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THE 



CATHOLIC WORLD. 



A 



MONTHLY MAGAZINE 



OF 



General Literature and Science. 



PUBLISHED BY THE PAULIST FATHERS. 



V,OL. I.XXVII. 
APRIL, 1903. TO SEPTEMBER, 1903. 



NEW YORK : 

THE OFFICE OF THE CATHOLIC WORLD. 

120 West 60th Street. 



1903. 

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CONTENTS. 



Apostle of the Little Ones, Thie Nine- 
teenth Century. — E, Uhlrich^ , 445 

Bamabo, Cardinal. — /?. H.^ D.D.^ . 74 

Beauty and Truth.— i'. F, JT., . . 490 

Beethoven, Ludwig Van. — Georgina 

Pell Curtis^ 515 

Breton Convent, In a. {Illustrated,) — 

Anna Seaton Schmidt ^ . . . 349 

Canadian Dialect Poet, A. — Thomas 

O'Hagan, M,A., Ph.D., . . .522 

Chateaubriand, Glimpses of. {Illus- 
trated.) — G, Lenotre^ . . . 731 

Christ's Triumphal Entry into Jerusa- 
lem, {Frontispiece.) 

Columbian Reading Union, The, 137, 281, 

422, 565, 711 

Comment on Current Topics, 133, 277, 418, 

5$5, 704, 849 

Deceased Paulists, The Memorial to 

the. {Illustrated), .... 87 

Dr. BrowDson, A Study of. — /. Fairfax 

McLaughlin, LL.D. . . . 310 

Dr. Elgar*s "Dream of Gerontius."— 

An Ursuline, 340 

Eastern Churches in Communion with 
Rome. {Illustrated.) — Lorenzo 
CRourke, 627 

Ecclesiastical Sculpture in America. 
{Illustrated.) — Sadakichi Hart- 
mann, 760 

Final Word on Socialism, The . Rev. 

W. J. Madden, . . . .723 

France, Later Words from.— W, F. P. 

Stockley, 219 

Germany and Russia at the Vatican. — 

/. T. Murphy, 427 

Ideal Fuel, The -Natural Gas. {Illus- 
trated.)— J. Tracey Murphy, . . 60 

Ignorance, or Bigotry, or Both, Is it ? — 

Mary Elizabeth Blake, , . . 194 

Irish Pipes, The Skirl oU—Shiela Ma- 

^<w» 753 

Irish Priest as a Novelist, The'.— Rev P. 

A. Sillard, 12 

Italian Girls, Charitable Work for, , 127 

lUly in Chicago. {Illustrated.)— Kate 

Gertrude Frindivtlle, . . , 452 

Italy, May Customs in. — Grace V, 

Christmas, ..... 155 

Joyce Josselyn, Smntr.^ Mary Sarsfield 

Gilmore, . 90, 227, 369, 497, 640, 796 

Klausen, A Little Tyrolean Paradise. 
{Illustrated.)— Charlotte H. Cour- 
sen, X87 

Leo XIII. the Great Leader.— ^«;. A. 

P. Doyle, C.S.P., .... 574 

Library Table, 128, 269, 412, 550, 698, 844 

Lives Hallowed by Faith. — Minna Clif- 
ford, 611 

Living Wage, The Employer's Obliga- 
gation to pay SL—Rev. John A, 
Ryan, S.T,L., 44 



Luca Delia Robbia, The Genius of. 
{Illustrated.) — Mary F, Nixon- 

Roulet 17 

Magdalen of Cortona, The. {Illus- 
trated.) — Rev, Father Cuthbert, 

O.S.F.C., 320 

Missions on the Congo, A Narrative of 

the. {Illustrated.)—/. B. Tugman, 783 
Musings. — Albert Reynaud, . . . 362 
Our Lady of the Fisl), {Frontispiece.) 
Papacy never Dies, The, . . .581 
Perdita's Choice.— Georgina Pell Cur- 
tis, 32 

Pigeons, Feeding the, {Frontispiece.) 

Pius X.— From Venice to the Vatican. 

A. Diarista, 7x5 

Pope Leo XIII., {^Frontispiece.) 

Pope Pius X., {Frontispiece.) 

Poppy Harvest, {Frontispiece.) 

Prayers, Old and New. — Rev. Lucian 

/ohnston, 587 

Protestants and the Pope, . . . 7x0 
Puzzle Explained, A. — William Seton, 

LL.D., 8x9 

Rattlesnake, The. {Illustrated.)— Wil- 
liam Seton, LL.D., .... 436 
Reflections for Ordinary Christians. — 

Albert Reynaud, . . . 462, 730 
Religion, Mr. W. H. Mallock's Defence 

oi.—Rev. fames /. Fox, D.D., . 143 
Roman Fountains. {Illustrated.) — E. 

McAuliffe, 209 

Roumanian Heroine, A. — B. Teeling, . 172 
Saint Denis and its Royal Tombs. {Il- 
lustrated.)— Mary Richards Gray, . 159 
St. Francis of Assisi, Poet and Lover of 

^zXwxe.— Francis D. New, A.M., . 768 
Sienese Treasures, The Historical Re- 
vival in. {Illustrated.) — F. W. 

Parsons, 465, 657 

Skinner versus Washington. — Rev. 

f antes J. Fox, D.D., . . . 286 
Social Unrest, John Graham Brooks on, 678 
Stone of the Lily, The.— -ff. E. Wade, . 332 
Strangers who were Welcomed, The. 

Mary F. Nixon-Rouht , . . . 477 
Sun's Place in the Universe, The. — Rev. 

George M. Sear le, C.S. P., . . i 
Unauthorized Dogmatism, The Perils 

ol.— Charles M. Westcott, . . 670 
Vale of Health, A. {Illustrated.)— F. 

Bert rand Wilberforce, O.P., . . 301 
Valparaiso^ An American Girl's Visit to. 

{Illustrated)— M. MacMahon, . 620 
Vaughan, Cardinal, .... 564 
Venerable Anne of Jesus, Second Foun- 
der of Carmel, 740 

Veuillot, Louis. {Illustrated.)— Rev, 

E. Myers, B. A., .... 597 
Views and Reviews, xio, 255, 390, 532, 

i 683, 826 r> 
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Contents. 



Ill 



POETRY. 



iEschylus.— ^«/. Julian E, fohnstoni^ . 285 
David and Goliath.— iV: /. Bell^ . .618 
Death, One Use of. — fames Buckkanty . 68a 
Easter Dawn, The,— J/tfry O'Brien^ . 89 
Gift, lYi^.-^Robert Cox Stumpy . . 300 
Heart I Need, lYa^ — Josephine Holt 

Throckmorton^ . . . .11 

Mary. — fames Reegan^ * . . . ao8 
New Century for Christ The.— Ztf<? 

XIIL, 571 



Paradoxes. — George H, Turner ^ . . 226 

Queen Beauty of Carmel, . . . 639 
Sea Gull, The.— ^«;. William P, Cant- 

welly 16 

Sigrn of Peace, The.— J/ary E, Gajfney, 818 

♦♦ Silent Music."— C. ir., ... 795 

Summer Woods, In the.— Z). A» Faber^ 488 

Religious Soul, The.— iV. .S". Pine^ . 435 

Wild Flowers, The, .... 59 



NEW PUBLICATIONS. 



Americans in Process, . . • • 394 

Anchoresses of the West, . . . 693 
Anglo-Saxon Century, and the Unifica* 
tion of the English-speaking People, 

The, 830 

Anthracite Coal Commission, The Re- 
port of the, 390 

Antidote, The, 404 

Art of Disappearing, The, . .116 

Barnes* bchool History of the United 

Sutes, 697 

Bethlehem, Was Christ Bom at ? . . X2x 

Beviarium Romanum, .... 693 

Beyond the Grave, 829 

Books of Devotion, .... 394 

Botony all the Year Round, . . 265 

Boy on a Farm, A, 837 

Castle Omeragh, 546 

Catholic London Missions, . . . 397 

Christian Apologetics, .... 838 
Christian Tradition, The, . . .122 

College Manual of Rhetoric, A, . . 112 

Compendium Juris Regularium, . . 263 

Creeds, The. ...... 262 

Dainty Devils, 546 

De la Connaissance de Dieu, . , . 685 
Die Irrlehrer im Ersten Johannesbrief, 686 
Discourses on Priesthood ; with Pane- 
gyric of St. Patrick, .... 547 
Documents Relatifs aux Rapports du 

Clerg6 avec la Royaut6, . . .261 

Encyclopaedia Britannica, . . 826 

England and the Holy See, . . . 400 

England's Cardinals, .... 691 

Etudes sur les Religions S^mitiques, . 257 

Euripides, 405 

Europe, the Holy Land, and Egypt, 

Rambles through, .... 404 
^vangile et Evolution, . . . .836 
Exercises Spirituels el Directoire des 
Heures Canonicales : Merits en espay- 

nol en Tan 1500, 694 

Francis Kerril Amherst, D.D., Lord 

Bishop of Northampton, . . . 832 

Gaxali, . . .... 258 

Geschichte der Altkirchlichen Littera- 

tur, X17 

Great Irish Famine of 1847, History of 

the 126 

Hail I Full of Grace, .... 266 
Hamack on the Essence of Christianity, 

A Reply to, 834 

Henchman, The, 115 



Historic Highwavs of America, . .112 
History of the Germany People at the 

Close of the Middle Ages, The, . 534 
Holy Scripture in the Public Worship 

of the Church, The Use of, . . 837 
Human Personality and Its Survival of 

Bodily Death, 255 

Introibo, 539 

Ireland, Leaders of Public Opinion in, 689 
Irish Mist and Sunshine, . . .115 

Jesus, The Friendships of, . . . 538 
Joseph Kardinal Hergenrdther's Hand- 

buch der allgemeinen Kirchenge- 

schichte, 118 

Journal Intime de Monseigneur Dupan- 

loup, 126 

La Bible et TAssyriologie, . . . 688 

La Bible et r£gyptologie, ... 688 
La Confession Sacramentelle dans r£g- 

lise Primitive, 119 

La, Controverse de TApostolicit^ des 

Eglises de France au XlXe. Sidcle, . 263 
Lad of the O'Freels, A, . . . .696 

Lady Rose's Daughter, .... 410 
La Penitence Publique dans T^glise 

Primitive, 119 

La Science de I'lnvlsible ou Le Mervell- 

leux et la Science Modeme, ,. . 119 
La Situation Politique Sociale et Intel- 

lectuelle du Clerg6 Francis, . . 264 
Le Fait Religieux et la Mani^re de I'ob- 

server, 685 

Le Roi du Jour, l*Alcool, . . . 264 

Les Latins, Peints par eux-m£mes, . 690 

L'£tat Mystique, ..... 539 

Lettres 4 un Protestant, . . . 402 

L'Ex^g^sede M. Loisy, .... 260 
Life and Destiny : or. Thoughts from 

the Ethical Lectures of Felix Adler, . 687 

Life of Leo XIII., 827 

Life of Leo XIll. and Histoiy of His 

Pontificate from Official and Ap- 
proved Sources, 842 

Lives of the Saints, Studies in the, . 532 

Living Lon^, The Art of, . . . 406 

London, Faith Found in, . . . 543 

Macedonia, The Tale of a Tour in, . 401 
Martvr of the Mohawk Valley, A, and 

Other Poems, 116 

Meditations, A Book of, . . .no 

Meditations on the Passion of Our Most 

Holy Redeemer, 838 

Middle Schools, The Making of our, ^<-> J98 i 

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Contents. 



Mis^res Humaines, 364 

New International Encyclopaedia, 548, 840 
Norsemen in America, The Discoveries 

of the, s6o 

Our Lady, The Girlhood of, . . . 409 

Pag^an at the Shrine, The, . . , 395 

Papal Claims, The Truth of, . . 405 

Pentecost, The Gift of, . . . . 392 

Philosophy 4, 397 



Philosophy, History of. 
Physics, Laboratory Manual of, . 
Portraitures of Julius Caesar, 
Praelectiones Philosophiae Scholastics, . 
Prince Charles Edward Stuart, 
Psalms and Canticles in English Verse, 

The, 

Queen of Angels, A Little Chaplet for 
the ; or, a Short Meditation for Every 

Evening in May, 

Quelques observations sur la dissocia- 
tion Psychologique, .... 
Reverend Mother Mary Xavier Warde, 
Right Honorable Max Mdller, The Life 
* and Letters of the, .... 
Ritualism, The Failure of, . . . _ 

Roderick Taliafero 695 

Royal Son and Mother, A, . . . zii 
Ruderick Clowd, The Rise of, . . 396 



543 
"3 
548 
687 
547 

532 



694 



123 
403 



St. Alphonse de Lip^uori (1696-1787), . 124 
St. Edmund, Archbishop of Canterbury, 365 
St. Margaret of Cortona, the Magdalen 

of the Seraphic Order, . . . 408 
St. Philip Neri, The Life of, . . .125 
St. Rita of Cascia, Life of, . . . 537 

Saint Teresa, 536 

Sealed Packet, The, . . . .111 
Short Lives of the Saints, . . . 695 
Short Rule and Daily Exercise, A, .126 

Sophocles, 405 

Spiritual Life, Helps to a, . . . 540 
Spiritual Outlook, The, .... 401 
Teachers' Hand-book to the Catechism, 535 

Theism, 683, 833 

Trait6 de Philosophie, .... 393 
Travelling in the Holy Land through the 

Stereoscope, 367 

*Tween You and I, 114 

Urbain IL, 359 

Veiled Majesty, The ; or, Jesus in the 
Eucharist, . . . . . . 542 

Whole Difference, The, . . . .115 

XVL Revelations of Divine Love 
Shewed to Mother Juliana of Nor- 
wich, 1373, no 

Ye arc Christ's, 543 

Zo51ogy, Studies in, . • . •113 



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^EASXER NUMBER. 9^ 





i^'i JPlaee In the Uni verse. 

£V^^EV. GEORGE M. 8EABLS, C S P. 

tdrt t Need. (Poem. ) 

lioSEPHINE HOLT THBOCKMOBTON. 

neat as Ifovelist, 

HEV. P. A. SILLABD. 

Gija (Poem.) 

HEV, WILLIAM P. CANTWBIiL. 

%^f Lucadella Robbia. (Illustrated.) 

'^ MAEY F, NIXGN-BGULBT. 

Ct^^l^ce. GEDHGINA PBLL CUBTIS. 

's Obligation to Fay a Living 

REV. JOHN A. BY AN, S.T.L. 

lowers. (Poem,) 
I Fuel— Natural Gas (Illustrated.) 

J, TSACEY MUBPHY. 

al Barnabo, b. h., d d. 

al to the Deceased Paulists. (111.) 
Da wo. (Poem ) maby O'BBIBN. 
osselyn, Sinner, 

MAEY SABSFIBU) QILMOBB. 



Pri<^y S5 Centa | #3 per Year. 



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Receipts, 1902. - - - - - fo, 495. 571-88 

Disbursements, 1902, ... 2,216,168.65 

Balance, ...... . • $1,279,40323 

Assets, January I, 1903, - - - - - - 15,699,212.40 

Liabilities, Reserve at 3, 3^» and 4 %, 44,730,963.00 

Claims by death, papers complete, - - - nbne 

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THE 

CATHOLIC WORLD. 

Vol. LXXVII. APRIL, 1903. No. 457- 




THE SUN'S PLACE IN THE UNIVERSE. 

BY REV. GEORGE M. SEARLE, C.S.P. 

GREAT deal has been said and written on the 
question, which is undoubtedly a very interesting 
one, of the plurality of inhabited worlds, and the 
subject might seem to have become pretty well 
exhausted. It would not be very easy to bring 
forward any really new argument on one side or the other, 
unless science should make advances which at present there 
seems no reason to expect. Still, as a stimulus has been given 
just now to the discussion by the ideas of Mr. Wallace as to 
the possible central position of our solar system in the universe, 
a few words on the matter may not be superfluous or un- 
welcome. 

In the first place, then, it should be understood that this 
theory of central position for the sun is not given out, by the 
eminent scientist just named, as something thoroughly verified 
or ascertained. It is only intended as a conjecture ; he only 
means that it may be true. For though it is certain, a priori, 
that the universe must have a limit, and fairly certain that with 
our large telescopes we now can see pretty nearly to that limit, 
it is also evident that our knowledge of its dimensions, its 
shape, and the arrangement of the bodies it contains, is, and 
probably will for centuries be too vague for anything like this 
to be announced as a definite result. It seems indeed that 
there will never be a possibility of obtaining the requisite 
knowledge by any method of scientific observation. The re- 

Thb Missionary Society op St. Paul the Apostle in thb^Statb 

OF New York, 1903 
VOL. LXXVII, — I 



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2 THE Sun's Place in the Universe. [April, 

motest stars would seem to be — ^just to name a figure — ten 
thousand times as far away as the nearest ones. But the ap- 
parent displacement of even these nearest onts by the motion 
of the earth in its orbit, which appears to be the only even 
tolerably accurate means of surveying available, is so small that 
to ascertain it with anything like precision requires an immense 
number of very careful observations; and the error in measur- 
ing one ten thousandth part of it, which no one would now 
dream of attempting, will probably always be very much larger 
than the quantity itself. And this measurement, probably im- 
possible even in a single case, would have to be made millions 
of times for our survey of the universe to be completed. 

How, then, it may be asked, can we make even the general 
statement of relative distance given just now ? We can only 
say that it is based on the relative brilliancy of the faint and 
the bright stars. A star of what is known as the twenty- first 
magnitude is estimated to give only one hundred millionth of 
the light given by one of the first magnitude; if, then, it is of 
the same intrinsic splendor — a fairly reasonable assumption on 
the whole — it must, by a well known law of optics, be ten 
thousand times as far away. This assumption is of course open 
to criticism ; but it does not seem that we shall ever get any- 
thing materially better. 

Still, if we wish to make any speculations at all, we must 
have some basis to build on ; and for want of a better, we must 
take this estimate of relative distance for the stars based on 
their relative brilliancy. Taking this, then, for granted, we will 
apply it to the spectacle which the universe presents to our 
eyes. As we have said, it is fairly certain that it is so pre- 
sented. The proofs of this obtained by observation are given 
in astronomical text-books, and we need not take up space by 
presenting them here. They do not amount to an absolute 
demonstration, but for a discussion as open to error as this 
must necessarily be, they may be considered sufficient. What, 
then, is it that we see spread before us in the heavens ? 

The most prominent feature suggesting in any way shape 
or construction is a great band of light, specially noticeable per- 
haps in summer evenings, which, if we follow it through the 
year (during which almost all of it can be well seen, even at 
this latitude), will be found to go right round the sky pretty 
nearly in what is called a great circle, like the earth's equator 



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t903.] THE SUN'S PLACE IN THE UNIVERSE. 3 

or one of its meridians of longitude. This band is commonly 
known as the Milky Way, or Galaxy. If we examine it with a 
telescope, — even a common opera or marine glass will give some 
idea, — we shall find that it is mainly composed of stars too faint 
and close together to be separately seen by the naked eye. 
These very faint stars are of course not seen in such abundance 
over the rest of the sky; but the brighter ones, visible as such 
to the naked eye, and even of less brilliancy, are pretty evenly 
distributed over the whole heavens. 

If, then, we take faintness as an indication of distance, as 
we have determined to do, we must necessarily believe that 
there are more stars at great distances from us in the regions 
of the Milky Way than elsewhere; or in other words, that as 
we look toward the Milky Way, the universe stretches farther 
away from us than in other directions. It appears, then, that it 
must be of a shape something like a round, thin slice cut out of 
the centre of an orange. With such a shape, the appearance 
presented would be just what we see, if we were located any- 
where near the centre of the slice. If we were near the cir- 
cumference of the slice, there would be a considerable difference 
of brightness and of closeness of the stars to each other in 
opposite parts of the Milky Way ; but such difference is not 
very noticeable. And if we were a good deal off toward one 
of its flat sides, the Milky Way would seem to be off on the 
other side of the heavens, as the earth's equator would seem if 
looked at from a point considerably north or south of the earth's 
centre. Also in this case, there* would be many more stars on 
the farther side of it than on the nearer one; byt no very 
marked difference is observable. 

Such then are the general reasons for assigning to the uni- 
verse a shape something like this, and for believing that we 
are, roughly speaking, in what may be called the central regions 
of it. Of course all this must be taken in a very vague sense; 
there is no reason to suppose that the slice is anything like 
accurately circular, or that its sides are flat. The edge might 
be quite irregular, and the sides quite bulging or uneven. Or 
there might be an approximately spherical mass round the cen- 
tre, surrounded by a ring something like that of Saturn. Some 
astronomers, whom Mr. Wallace follows, favor this view; but 
there is no really solid or convincing argument for it. 

That the region -of the universe in which we are located is in 



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4 The Sun's Place in the Universe, [April, 

a wide sense central, or that we are not, as it were, hanging 
on or near the outside limits of it, seems then reasonable and 
probable. But that we should be precisely at its centre is, 
from what has been said, evidently a matter quite impossible to 
prove. Indeed there is and can be no proof that there is any 
pDint which, in ordinary parlance, could be selected as its cen- 
tre. Of course it has what is called a centre of gravity, a 
point round which it would balance if subjected to equal and 
parallel forces on every unit of its mass; or — what comes to 
the same thing — a point from which the sum of the squares of 
the distances of every unit of its mass would be a minimum. 
But this point we could never, by any possibility, determine. 

That we are, strictly speaking, at the centre of the universe 
is, then, a statement which not only cannot be proved, but one 
which has no definite or intelligible meaning, unless we are de- 
termined to believe that the universe has a symmetrical shape; 
but for this there is really no evidence; and from what has 
been said, it should be plain that unless some entirely new 
method is discovered of measuring the relative distance of the 
stars it will never be possible to obtain any. 

There is, it is true, a rough method on which Mr. Wallace 
relies to some extent for his theory. It is that of the ** proper 
motion " of the stars. We find that some of the stars shift 
their places in the heavens from year to year with a regular 
and continuous movement. This proper motion, as it is called, 
is supposed to be due to the combined effect of a real move- 
ment through space of both the star and our own solar system. 
The effect of the latter would be, of course, to make the stars 
in the direction in which we are going open out, and those 
behind us close up ; those on our beam (to use a nautical 
term) would appear to be going backward, as the landscape 
does when we look out of the window of a railway car. By 
considering all the known proper motions some idea has been 
obtained of the direction of the real motion of our system, and 
even, by combining this with the little knowledge which we 
have of the stellar distances, of the velocity of that motion. 

Now, we may perhaps be justified in assuming that these 
proper motions of the stars give some idea of their relative 
distances from us. The nearer ones would, on the whole, seem 
to move faster than the more dist;^nt ones. And so far as we 
can ascertain anything in this way, it would appear that stars 



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1903.] The Sun's 'Place in the Universe, 5 

having a measurable proper motion are distributed pretty uni- 
formly through the space around us. On this Mr. Wallace and 
the astronomers on whom he depends base the idea which has 
been mentioned, of a spherical mass or cluster, surrounded by 
the ring of the Galaxy. But really the facts do not go far 
enough to establish it. For stars with a measurable — or at any 
rate a measured — proper motion, even outside the regions of the 
Galaxy, are only a small proportion of the whole; probably 
the immense majority are too far away to deduce anything 
about their distance in this way. This method really does not 
add much to that of parallax, first described. All that we can 
find by it concerns only that part of the universe which is 
nearest to us, probably only a very small proportion of the 
whole, and nothing about the construction or arrangement of 
the whole can be proved from it. The same result would 
probably be got for the small proportion which we can get at, 
in whatever way the whole might be constructed. 

We really then, as far as anything has been or probably ever 
can be learned on the subject, must content ourselves with the 
idea or belief that we are, very roughly speaking, in the cen- 
tral regions of the universe ; not, at any rate, hanging on to 
or near its limits. The centre, if we can call any point such, 
may be located at our system or at any of the stars we can 
see with the naked eye or with small telescopes. Some decades 
since, a well known astronomer thought, from the indications 
given by proper motion, that it might be at the group known 
as the Pleiades. 

There is one sense of the word '* centre " which we have 
not yet spoken of. If there is in the universe any body or 
group of bodies of immensely superior mass, such as to far 
outweigh all the rest taken together, as is the case with the 
sun in our own system, such a body or group of bodies might 
be called the centre, even if its location was very considerably 
to one side. The sun would still be the centre of our system, 
even if at any time all the planets were on one side of it. 

But it is very certain that our sun holds no such command- 
ing position in the stellar universe. In the first place, we are 
sure that other stars whose distances we know approximately, 
are very much more brilliant; Arcturus, for instance, is esti- 
mated in this way as being about six thousand times as bright ; 
and supposing the brilliancy of the surface to be equal to that 



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6 THE SUN'S PLACE IN THE UNIVERSE. [April, 

of the sun, this would make its volume, and presumably its 
mass or weight, about half a million times that of our little 
luminary. But probably its surface brilliancy is greater, so that 
this would be an over-estimate. 

We do not have, however, to depend on this method. There 
are double stars in plenty, the components of which we know 
revolve round each other; and we know, approximately, in 
some cases, their distance by their parallax, and consequently 
the real size of their mutual orbits. This gives us, directly, 
the gravitational pull exerted by each on the other ; and in this 
way we find that some other stars much exceed our sun in 
weight. 

The whole notion, then, of our solar system occupying in 
any way an exactly or specially central position in the universe 
must be discarded as resting on no solid foundation. Geo- 
metrically, it is a mere possibility ; physically it is out of the 
question. 

But now to come to the really important aspect of the mat- 
ter; to that which gives this theory of Mr. Wallace all the in- 
terest which it evidently excites. 

Every one, somehow, seems to feel that the locally central 
position in the universe which he claims for the sun would 
imply a special importance for it in the plan of the Creator of 
the universe. But really such a position seems, when we look 
at it rationally, to be an unimportant matter. In our own 
physical organism, we do not look on the brain as being an 
insignificant organ, because it is off at one end of the body, 
or the heart as being so because it is somewhat off to one 
side. The idea that a mere geometrical centre carries im- 
portance' with it seems after all rather a puerile one. We 
should not take much account of it in any construction or ar- 
rangement which we ourselves might contrive. The capital 
city of a nation may be preferably located at or near the cen- 
tre of its territory ; but this would be done in order to make 
it more easy of access to the nation itself, or more secure 
from attack from outside. No such reason- can be urged in the 
case of our great stellar system. 

The most important point of an organism may be located 
anywhere in it. That our sun should be in one point or 
another of the universe really has nothing to do with its im- 
portance. 



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'903.] THE Sun's Place in the Universe. 7 

This will probably be conceded by pretty nearly everybody, 
on sober second thought. And yet it will still seem to be- 
lievers and to those who wish to believe, a pity that astronomy 
cannot g^ve at least this little help, which they hoped might 
be one of its latest results. Formerly, they say, there was no 
trouble or difficulty, such as we have now. The earth was 
supposed to be the principal body in the universe; the sun, 
moon, and stars to be comparatively small bodies, hung in the 
heavens. But now you tell us that the sun is a million times 
as big as the earth ; and that there are other stars much big- 
ger than the sun. Our poor little earth is lost in the midst 
of these gigantic and innumerable orbs; why in the world 
should it have been selected for the great work which the 
Christian religion tells us was done here ? This idea that it 
was just in the middle of the whole mighty blaze of suns 
seemed to give some little dignity to it ; and now you will not 
allow us even that. Perhaps it does not, as you say, amount 
to much or even anything at all; but it did seem to help. 

Well, if it does help, astronomy certainly does not forbid 
any one to entertain this idea. We may be as near the centre 
as it is possible to get in this vast and necessarily more or less 
irregular swarm of moving bodies. Astronomy cannot prove 
it; but it can never disprove it. 

But, after all, it is better to get rid of the difficulty in 
other ways. To do so, let us look fairly at the difficulty, and 
see what it is. 

It seems to be unlikely that the Lord should select such a little 
spot of His vast universe, for the habitation of creatures whose 
nature He was to take on Himself; that^such wonderful works 
should be done here on this little undistinguishable planet, and 
that the rest of the universe should go for nothing in compari- 
son. Why should He make such an immense number of suns, 
which might all have systems of planets like our own, and 
make no use of them for purposes as important as any that He 
has in view here ? At least it would seem that He must have 
made them for the use of intelligent beings like ourselves; and 
if so, why are we singled out in this very extraordinary way ? 

This really does seem a difficulty; but let us examine it 
carefully. 

Would the difficulty exist if we were simply told that the 
number of the angels was so great that it would equal what 



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8 THE SUN'S PLACE IN. THE UNIVERSE. [April, 

we might estimate as the population of the universe? Theol- 
ogy actually does describe their number as being very great; 
but that seems to make no difficulty in the way of what it 
teaches with regard to the Incarnation. Why then should a 
difficulty come in simply because of an increase of number? 
If we were told that it was as great as just stated, it really 
does not seem as if there would be anything to cause a temp- 
tation against faith. 

Why then should there be a difficulty if instead of pure 
spirits like the angels, we substitute spirits united with bodies ? 
Even supposing that there are in the universe such an immense 
number as we have supposed, not of angels, but of embodied 
spirits like ourselves, why should not our own nature be se- 
lected for the Incarnation in preference to any other? Why 
should we be bound to suppose that these others should be 
subjected to sin or to death, or that they should need a special 
Redemption ? Why should the mere idea of their being united 
with bodies make such a difference? We accept the doctrine 
of the Church as to the angels without difficulty, and would do 
so no matter how great their number might be; where would 
the trouble come in if their nature were not angelic, but more 
like our own ? 

The difficulty then does not seem so very alarming, even 
putting it at its greatest. But is there any really strong reason 
for so putting it ? Why must we imagine this immense number 
of beings such as we have supposed ? 

Really there seems to be no reason, except that otherwise 
space, standing room as it were, would be wasted. 

This is an argument which appeals perhaps specially to 
those who live in large cities. With us, space is certainly 
very valuable. We would not. keep an acre, or even a yard of 
land, without intending to utilize it for standing or walking 
room. But does it follow that the Lord regards the matter in 
the same way ? Is it of such importance to Him ? 

Does He have our ideas of economy ? Evidently not, at 
any rate in this respect. On the surface of the sun, there is 
ten thousand times as much standing room as on the whole 
face of the earth, oceans included. But there is not an inch 
of it on which any one could stand. Can we imagine creatures 
living where metals are turned to vapor? Perhaps, but cer- 
tainly no better than out in the cold of empty space. And all 



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I903-] THE Sun's Place in the Universe, 9 

the stars that we see are just as impossible for habitation ; 
they are simply furnaces, heated beyond anything that we have 
here. 

And are they duly utilized, even as furnaces ? On this 
planet, we catch only about half a billionth part of the enor- 
mous heat our sun is radiating. Even all the planets together 
only collect a few billionths of it. The rest all goes to waste. 
The same is true, of course, of its light. And the same may 
be said, of course, of all the stars in this vast universe, even if 
they have systems of planets like our own. Evidently, Al- 
mighty God is not economical, according to our ideas. 

We say, "if they have systems of planets." Why should 
they have them ? Of course if the Lord does want people to 
live in His universe. He must provide some place where they 
can live. But evidently the mere fact that there is a material 
universe does not prove that He does want people to live in 
it, when the immense mass of it is so obviously impossible for 
habitation. 

But it may be asked, would not planets necessarily be 
formed, by the " nebular theory," or whatever you call it ? 
No, not necessarily planets like those in our system, with such 
circular orbits, and such possibilities for life. The actual evi- 
dence which we have by observation of the double stars shows 
that in fact as well as in theory the chances would be very 
much against such conditions ensuing. And even when they 
do, a nice balance is required, a simultaneous evolution of all 
the requisites, which might well occur only in one isolated 
case. This Mr. Wallace well shows ; and his authority is good 
on such matters specially. 

The fact of the whole matter is that we insist on pinning 
the Lord down to our way of looking at things. We forget 
that His ways are not as our ways, and His thoughts not as 
our thoughts. If we could fit up even a small universe, we 
should say, " somebody ought to live in this ; it is a pity that 
such good building and living space should be wasted." We 
should feel that if we could do it, we would have to create 
men to occupy the house prepared for them. The men would 
be made for the house, not the house for the men. Matter 
has value in our eyes, just because we cannot create it. But 
to God all these blazing suns are, for their own sake, of no 
more intrinsic value than so many tallow candles. He can 



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lO 



The Sun's Place in the Universe, 



[April, 



make one as easily as the other. And though the same is 
true of His spiritual creation, we cannot doubt that it is what 
the rest is made for, not it for the rest. It is what He has at 
heart. 

There seems then not to be the least difficulty in suppos- 
ing the whole truth to be contained in what theology teaches. 
God determines to create angels and men ; and a vast material 
and mechanical universe to manifest His power and His glory, 
and to some extent for the service of His rational creatures. 
Just where He puts man in this universe is a very slight con- 
sideration. He may not attach so much importance to elemen- 
tary geometry as we do. And quite a sufficient motive for the 
material creation is His own glory, and its present use ; though 
of course He may also design it for some ulterior purpose in 
which we ourselves are concerned. 

That there must be innumerable rational animals more or 
less like ourselves inhabiting worlds the very existence of which 
is by no means proved, is simply a bugbear which we make 
for ourselves. Astronomy does not force it on us; so far as 
it says anything, it is the other way. But even if our bug- 
bear be the truth, the difficulty, as we have seen, is not an in- 
surmountable, and indeed hardly a serious one. 




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I903.] 



The Heart I Need. 



II 



She P^BAi^iit I Heed. 

BY JOSEPHINE HOLT THROCKMORTON. 
I. 

IVE me the heart of a lion brave, 

Or of the warrior old and grave, 

To fight my battle of life. 




II. 

Give me the courage of the knights so bold 
Who fought and died in the tales of old, 
To fight my battle of life. 

III. 

Give me the soul of the sailor grim, 
Who faces death with fire and vim. 
To fight my battle of life. 

IV. 

Give me the faith of the Christian free, 
A heart, O Lord, that would die for Thee, 
To fight my battle of life. 




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12 THE IRISH Priest as Novelist [April, 




THE IRISH PRIEST AS NOVELIST. 

BY REV. P. A. SILLARD. 

[HE Irish Priest in fiction is not uncommon. He 
has figured in the pages of many novels, from 
the days of Lever and Carleton down to the 
last work of the late Robert Buchanan. But he 
has always been portrayed from the outside. 
The Irish priest as novelist is less common, and whatever views 
may be held as to the desirability of the clergy giving their 
time to novel writing, there can be no question that the Rev. 
Doctor Sheehan has made for himself more than a passing 
reputation in the domain of fiction. What imparts a special 
interest and value to his work is that his portraits of clerics, 
being studies from within, may be accepted as wholly reliable. 
In a country like Ireland, where the power of the priest 
counts for much, the portrayal of him as he is, not as he might 
be, nor as he would appear to a distorted fancy, is distinctly 
valuable ; all the more so as previous pictures from laymen's 
pens have not been free from a suspicion of unfriendly exag- 
geration, if not positive caricature. 

Dr. Sheehan is a parish priest in the county of Cork, and 
has had abundant opportunity for observing and studying his 
fellow-countrymen, and, possessing considerable literary talent, 
has already produced four books. Two of these, Geoffrey 
Austin and the Triumph of Failure (to name them in the order 
of their appearance), had at first little more than local celebrity ; 
but the fame of his third book, My New Curate (which rapidly 
ran into twelve editions), directed attention to them, and they 
have become popular both in Ireland and in America; but the 
striking qualities, sd remarkably evident in My New Curate^ 
are only dimly visible in them. 

In Geoffrey Austin we see traced the early years and mental 
training of a typical Irish youth, highly gifted, imaginative, 
and ambitious, but without any real religion. The Triumph of 
Failure takes up his history at the point where he is launched 



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I903.] THE IRISH PRIEST AS NOVELIST. 13 

on the world without money, position, or friends, to carve out 
his future as best he may, and it traces his path through disap- 
pointments and sorrows, and describes the reawakening of faith 
in his soul wherein it had slumbered. Both books have the 
faults inseparable from the tendenz romanz, and there is in 
them besides an ostentation of learning wholly unnecessary, and 
frequently irritating. They are lacking in that quality which is 
essential to secure independent and permanent appreciation — the 
quality of giving pleasure ; and this quality My Neiv Curate 
possesses in an abundant degree. 

It was first published as a serial in an American periodical, 
and even then aroused considerable interest; on its appearance 
in book form it, as has already been stated, rapidly reached its 
twelfth edition. Such an unusual success stimulates curiosity as 
to how far it is attributable to those scenes of clerical life being 
written by a cleric. It may be said at once that while this had 
much to do with it, a better and more vital cause of the at- 
traction lay in the true and graphic pictures of Irish life and 
character that the book contains. The interest is aroused on 
the first page, and the exquisite humor with which the story is 
developed must have come as a glad surprise to those who 
had deplored its absence in Dr. Sheehan's earlier books. 
The secret of the success is the intensely human interest 
which the reader is made to feel in the characters; they all 
live : the old parish priest. Father Dan (the typical Soggarth 
Aroori), the new Curate whom the Bishop has sent him (to break 
his heart, as he says) ; the elderly housekeeper ; the village folk, 
whom Father Dan has long ceased to try to rouse from their 
lethargy, and who, critical at first towards the new curate, later 
become his warmest admirers. 

The Irish peasant, so frequently drawn, and oftentimes so 
ruthlessly caricatured, is a subject of loving study to Dr. 
Sheehan ; he has looked deep into his nature, penetrated to 
his heart, to his very soul ; and who could do this if it were 
not the priest to whom the Irish peasantry turn at all times 
of deep feeling, of joy as well as of sorrow ? Their faith in 
the joys of another world, heightened by their sorrows in this ; 
their domestic love, which reconciles them to their hard lot; 
their pathetic hope in the coming of better days; their readi- 
ness to forget everything and give way to a wild, almost fierce. 



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14 THE Irish Priest as Novelist. [April, 

glee, which soon fades away into native melancholy, — all are 
portrayed for us with an artist's hand. The vividness of the 
pictures, the delicacy of the light and shade, are masterly; 
there is no exaggeration, no over- emphasis, but a truth of de- 
tail which is the outcome of long, close, sympathetic observa- 
tion. Sympathetic observation — that is the secret of his suc- 
cess. The Irish character is an enigma — an enigma worth 
solving, the key to which is true sympathy. Dr. Sheehan 
has this key, and with it he has opened a gallery into which 
it is well worth while to enter. His pictures are living pictures, 
showing us contemporary life and thought in Ireland as they 
can be found nowhere else. On his own ground Dr. Sheehan 
is unapproachcd by any living writer who has attempted the 
same theme. In an especial degree one feels that he has a 
grip of his subject, and an ability to handle it equalled only 
by his thorough knowledge of his clerical brethren. 

In My New Curate, for example. Father Dan, the parish 
priest of Kilronan, loved his people, and they loved him, and 
when in tardy recognition of his great merit his bishop desired 
' to elevate him to the dignity of a canon he sadly but reso- 
lutely declined the proffered honor, because he was "Father 
Dan" to his people, and they wanted him to be Father Dan 
to the end. The true note is touched here, as indeed all 
through the book. The bond between priest and people in 
Ireland is no common one, and not easily understood outside 
Ireland. That is one of the many causes of much misunder- 
standing amongst those who, with a very superficial acquaint- 
ance with the country and the people, form opinions based not 
seldom upon prejudice, often upon that ** incompatibility that 
exists between a slow, conscientious, Protestant, Anglo-Saxon 
race, and a quick-witted, Celtic, Roman- Catholic race, with dif- 
ferent characteristics, different ideas, different traditions, differ- 
ent aims." 

I said awhile ago that on his own ground Dr. Sheehan is 
facile princeps. The reason for the reservation is seen in his 
last work, Luke Delmege* wherein he has attempted, amongst 
other things, to depict scenes and characters with which he is 
less intimate. The weakest portions of this story are those 
wherein the action takes place out of Ireland. They have not 

• London : Longmans, Green & Co. 



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»903.] The Irish Priest as Novelist. 15 

the vraisemblance that hall-marks the others. The perfect 
felicity with which he describes Irish character, both lay and 
cleric, is even more marked, because more various, in this book 
than in its predecessor. His wide and exact knowledge enables 
him to depict with unerring touch the very different types of 
Irish priest whom he has here given us. Such creations as 
Father Pat, Father Tim, and Father Martin are marvels of real- 
ism, while the Canon, round whose relatives and their doings 
much of the story revolves, is inimitably described. 

But it is not alone for their faithful portrayal of character 
that these books are deserving of attention ; they discuss and 
throw light upon many things that are of perpetual interest to 
thinking men ; they have deep meaning, and are informed by a 
true philosophy as to the essential facts of life. 

Dr. Sheehan is not indifferent to the faults that exist in 
places that some would guard from criticism. Incidentally in 
Luke Delmege those whom it touches nearly have perceived 
some strictures on the system that prevails in the college at 
Maynooth, where vast numbers of the Irish priesthood are 
trained. That his criticisms were well directed was proved by 
the unfriendly reception they met with from those in whose 
interest they were made. Knowing how powerful is the influ- 
ence that they eventually come to possess. Dr. Sheehan would 
have the young clerical students educated and trained in -a true 
liberal spirit, freed from the trammels of fettering tradition. 
He brings things to the test of experience, and thus is enabled 
to detect, and he does not hesitate to expose, the weakness 
where it exists. " Prove all things ; hold fast that which is 
good." In the same spirit his contribution to the thought of 
the day when it turns towards the social and political aspects 
of Ireland is eminently worthy of notice ; and it is clearly be- 
cause he recognizes in the novel the greatest educational force 
in literature that he has selected it as the vehicle of his thought. 
He has looked with discerning eyes on the world moving around 
him, and can draw from it a lesson, and point, perhaps, a 
moral which, touched with gentle irony and sympathetic satire, 
makes delightful reading. These books have a value and at- 
tractiveness that the two earlier works would hardly have led 
one to anticipate. They are instinct with the movement of life 
around us; and, as has been said, they reflect and discuss 



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1 6 THE SEA GULL. [April, 

questions in the solution of which we are all interested. Dr. 
Sheehan's style is always good, and frequently rises to a high 
level of distinction. There is a quiet force in his writing that 
is distinctly impressive, and marks him as the foremost man 
of letters in Ireland to-day. Those who would know how the 
Ireland of his day looked to a learned and cultured man with 
the seeing eye and the gift of expression should turn to the 
pages of My New Curate and Luke Delmege* 




She Sea GULii. 

BY REV. WILLIAM P. CANTWELL. 
I. 

H restless bird, what dost thou seek? 

Thy soul is troubled as the sea: 
What urgent message wouldst thou speak ? 
Why hurriest on so eagerly ? 

II. 

Dost tell of storms that lash the main ? 

Of sailors 'gulfed in watery grave ? 
Alas ! thy tidings now are vain, 

For who these luckless ones may save ? 

III. 

Then stay thy wing and rest awhile 
Upon the dark waves' surging crest; 

While I my anxious heart beguile 
Aweary with its ceaseless quest. 

• These two books have been translated into French, and Mon Nouveau Vicairt and Luc 
Delmege have been received with great tavor by the French critics. 



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1903.] The Genius of Luc a dell a Robbia. 17 



THE GENIUS OF LUCA DELIA ROBBIA. 

' ^ BY MARY F. NIXON-ROULET. 

" Time with a stealthy hand has put to shame 
> The tints o^many a canvas rich of yore ; 

But they who bear the Delia Robbia name, 

Could they return and see their work once more, 
i^.-^ Should nothing find therein to mourn or to restore." 

N the ancestral home of his race in the Via San 
Egidio, where 

" . . '. the Arjio doubles, 
And Florence with her hoarded art 
J '"* Foxjigts old troubles/' 

Luca Aem j^obbia was born A. D. I4CX>, and after the tranquil 
customs of his day and race, untouched by modern hurry and 
desire for change, there he lived in the quaint old stone house 
for many years. It was not until 1446 that, with his brother 
Marco and his nephew Andrea, he removed to a newer house 
in a thoroughfare then called Delia Robbia, but which is now 
the Via Guelfa. 

It is^Tdifficult to gather definite information concerning many 
of the Renaissance artists. The noisome pestilence too often 
visited mediaeval cities, and everything upon which it had laid 
its devastating ^fipget: was burnt to avoid infection. Such family 
records as were not thus lost were destroyed in the frequent 
pillage of dwellings and churches which war, and more fre- 
quently internecine strife, engendered. But in fair and flowery 
Italy, land of sunshine and blossoms and art, the artist is 
happy in his whilom biographer, garrulous Giorgio Vasari, and 
to him we are indebted for most of the facts which have come 
down to us anent the life of Luca della Robbia. At the 
cavilling critic who would, in carping spirit, complain that the 
interesting Vasari was not always exact; that he let his heart 
run away with his head to the distorting of accurate truth at 
times; that he was more loving to his friends than just to his 
enemies, we would only say, with a shrug : " He is all the 
authority we have; he gives us dates and facts; his opinions 
matter little; we can judge for ourselves. What would you? 

VOL. LXXTII.— 2 

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The Genius of Luca della Robbia. 



[April, 





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Luca della Robbia. 



The sun gilds with glowing beauty the sombre evening sky; 
let Romance cast a little gleam upon the darkened middle 
age." 

Of the Florentine sculptor, Vasari writes with a touch [of 
that naivetd which marked the limes: *' Luca was most carefully 
reared and educated until he could not only read and write but 
also, according to the custom of most Florentines, had learned 



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1903] The Genius of Luca della Robbia. 19 

to cast accounts so far as he was likely to require them. 
Afterwards he was placed by his father to learn the art of the 
goldsmith. Having learned to draw and to model in wax, his 
confidence increased and he set himself to attempt works in 
marble and bronze. In these he succeeded tolerably well, and 
this caused him to abandon altogether the goldsmith's trade and 
give himself entirely to sculpture, insomuch that he did nothing 
but work with his chisel all day and by night practised his 
drawing. This he did with so much zeal that when his feet 
were frozen with the cold, he kept them in a basket of shav- 
ings to warm them, so that he might not be compelled to dis- 
continue, his drawings." 

Modern sybarites who have experienced the discomforts of 
these more picturesque than habitable marble- floored Florentine 
palaces of the olden time, wonder at the devotion to art dis- 
played by this early Tuscan sculptor — a mere goldsmith's 
apprentice the modern artist might deem him. But it is to the 
painstaking genius who despised not the day of small things, 
and to the earnestness of effort which stopped at n^i^ght, that 
we owe the splendid achievements of the past. Demosthenes, 
talking with his mouth full of pebbles above the ocean's roar; 
a Giotto drawing his sheep with a stick in the soil of a Tuscan 
landscape, as he watched his flocks where the azure sky lov- 
ingly smiled down upon fair Fiesole ; a boy Angelico trac- 
ing with awl his goldsmith gravures before San Marco's, convent 
shade, gaining skill and leisure to embody his pure thoughts 
of the Holy Mother in pure tones ; a Robbia freezing over 
each line and curve as he painstakingly wrought his way to 
expression of truth, — these great souls are the exponents of the 
axiom that " genius is only great patience " ; they exemplify 
the thought that naught can be accomplished in this world save 
by that labor which conquers all. 

Early in his career Ghiberti and Donatello largely influenced 
Luca della Robbia, the one giving him technical skill, the other 
vigor of handling; but later the sculptor developed his own 
originality and became an independent worker, showing his own 
strong personality. How strong that personality would be is 
evinced by his portrait by Vasari, now in the Palazzo Vecchio 
in Florence. Draped in a graceful mantle, only a portion of 
the figure is seen, and the fine head, wrapped in a unique 
artistic turban, is thrown into bold relief against a well- shaded 



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20 



THE Genius of Luc a dell a Robbia, 



[April, 




The Singing Children, Cathedral, Florence. 

background. The features are striking; the nose, but slightly 
aquiline, is of the softer Italian rather than the Roman type ; 
the eyes are half closed, deep-set, keen, thoughtful, rather 
than dreamy; the eyebrows perfectly formed, the ears large 
but well shaped ; the forehead is full ; the chin sharply pro- 
truding, the lips half parted and clearly moulded, and the 
expression intense. The whole face is striking and forceful. It 
is ^the face of a man whose character would be grand and lofty, 
and the life of Luca della Robbia corresponds to the character 
his face gives him. 

His appears to have been a rare personality. Truly loving 
by nature, he seems to have known no woman's influence in 
his life ; and it presents the rather uncommon picture of a 



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1903] The Genius of Luca della Robbia. 21 

deeply religious man of his day who loved no earthly woman, 
yet who was neither monk nor churchman. His family affec- 
tion was strong, and he devoted himself chiefly to his favorite 
nephew, Andrea. Him he loved somewhat to the detriment of 
his own sense of justice, which was strong; for, late in life, it 
is said that he feared he did wrong in imparting to Andrea 
alone the secret of his discovery of glazed enamel. This secret, 
rumor has it, he wrote down and placed in the hollow head of 
one of his cherubs, and curious seekers have broken many of 
the lovely little creatures in hope of finding so valuable a treasure. 

Robbia's friends appear to have been many and warm, 
probably because his temper was even. His disposition was 
quiet, cheerful, and pleasant, without jealousy, envy, or unrest. 
The story goes that it was he who succeeded in pacifying 
Michelozzo when that artist was enraged at the injustice of the 
cathedral canons at the Duomo, and there was ever after be- 
tween the artists a warm and tender friendship. 

Robbia seems to have led an uneventful life, its flight 
marked not at all by the tempests and passions of his warlike 
times, but only by his discoveries and experiments, as his art 
floated along in a steady stream from the goldsmith's graver to 
the sculptor's chisel, from marble to bronze, from bronze to 
terra cotta, through which medium we know him best. Clever 
as he was, he seems to have possessed in a marked degree the 
simple virtues of industry, frugality, and gratitude. The Mar- 
chesa Burlamacchi, in her charming book on Luca della Robbia 
writes, anent the latter trait of his character, that " haying been 
restored to health by the pure mountain air of Gavinani, near 
San Marcello, and having received much kindness from the peo- 
ple, he left, as a votive offering, two of his works to adorn the 
village church. The mountaineers still show with pride this 
token of the gratitude of the great artist who, although he lived 
in a period of sordid passions, was an example of virtue and industry. 

Closely interwoven with the life and work of his favorite 
nephew, Andrea, as is the work of Luca della Robbia, it is yet 
possible for a close and discerning student to distinguish the 
work of the older from that of the younger man. The tempera- 
mental differences between the two are clearly shown by their 
work. Andrea is a quicker modeller, somewhat lacking in 
originality, repeating his subjects over and over with but slight 
variations, and in the selection of his subjects showing the 

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22 



THE Genius of Luc a dell a Robbja. 



[April, 



spirit of a later age, as there were forty years difference be- 
tween him and the uncle who did so much for him. 

There is something gentle and pathetic in the story of the 
good old man, childless save for his beloved art, bestowing 
upon this son of his dearly beloved brother all the largesse of 
the great affection of a richly endowed nature, and one re- 
joices to read that Andrea was not ungrateful, but loved and 
tended his uncle until the old artist died in 148 r, honored ar.d 




Madonna of the Via dell* Agnolo, Florence. 
respected by all. He was buried in the Church of San Piero 
Maggiore, and there his epitaph reads : 

" Tena vivi per mi cara e gradita 
Che all'acqua e a' ghiacci como marmo induri ; 
Per que quanto mere cedi o ti maturi, 
Tanto piu la mia fama in terra ha vita." 

(O live for me, dear earth ! and may you vie 
With marble that can storm and frost defy ; 
So time the less you cede the more mature. 
My fame on earth the longer may endure.) 

Justly famous is the work of this fifteenth century Floren- 
tine sculptor, and the first important work of which we have 
record was executed in 143 1 for the Duomo in Florence, and 
is called the " Cantoria." Vasari writes of these ornaments for 
the organ of Santa Maria del Fiore: **The wardens commis- 

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1903] 



The Genius of Luc a dell a Robbia. 



23 



sioned them from Luca, who in addition to his reputation had 
a further recommendation from Messer Vieri de* Medici, an in- 
fluential and popular citizen by whom Luca was much beloved. 
These ornaments were placed over the door of .the sacristy in 
the above-named cathedral. 

"In the prosecution of this work, Luca executed certain 
series for the casement which represent the choristers, who are 
singing in different attitudes. To the execution of these he 




Annunciation of the Innocenti, Florence. 

gave such earnest attention, and succeeded so well, that al- 
though the figures are sixteen bracchia from the ground, the 
spectator can distinguish the inflation of the throat in the 
singers, and the action of the leader as he beats time with his 
hands. The various modes of playing the diff^erent instruments, 
the choral songs and the dances, are delineated by the artist." 
As a text for the ** Cantoria," which are divided into ten 
panels, Luca took the 150th psalm: 
** Laudate Dominum in Sanctis ejus; laudate eum in firmamento 

virtutis ejus. 
Laudate eum in virtutibus ejus; laudate eum secundum multi- 

tudinem magnitudinis ejus." 

The subjects of the bas-reliefs are taken from the last lines of 
the psalm. It is a pity that after the **Cantoria" Luca rarely 
produced any work wrought wholly in marble. 

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24 The Genius of Luca della Robbia. [April, 

Many and varied have been the vicissitudes of the " Can- 
toria." In 1688, when Prince Ferdinand© was married to Vio- 
lante Beatrice of Bavaria, the bas-reliefs were removed and re- 
placed with wood ornaments, which were fashionable at that 
time. The lovely singing children lay neglected for years in 
the cathedral until they were finally given to the Gallery of the 
Uffizi ; but the cathedral chapter quarrelled over them, wishing 
them replaced in their original place. Eventually the dispute 
was settled, and with the famous " Singing Gallery " of Donatello, 
the Robbias were placed in the museum of the cathedral, where 
they shine to-day in all their grace and ease of movement 

Of them Symonds says that " movements have never been 
suggested with less exaggeration, nor have marble lips made 
sweeter or more varied music; especially fine is the group of 
children singing and playing the organ and guitar. The 
anatomy of the childish forms is perfect, and the grace of the 
draperies and the ease of the rounded limbs, the sweetness and 
chann of the lovely childish faces, with the eager childish in- 
terest they display, each pair of rosy lips parted to do its best, 
shows Robbia to have been indeed a close student and a warm 
lover of childhood.*' 

Numberless other fine pieces followed these productions; 
but it was not until 1442 that Luca made his first trial of 
terra cotta covered with glazed enamel. This resulted in a 
frieze, a garland of flowers supported by cherub heads, made 
for the tabernacle of the Chapel of St. Luke, in the Hospital 
of Santa Maria Nuova, in Florence. Later it was transferred 
to the Church of Santa Maria a Peretala. 

According to Vasari : " Luca having made up the reckoning 
of what he received for his works in bronze and marble, per- 
ceived that he had made but small gains and that the labor 
had • been excessive. Reflecting, therefore, that it cost but little 
trouble to work in clay, which is easily managed, and that but 
one thing was required, namely, to find some method by 
which works produced in that material should be rendered 
durable — after having made innumerable experiments, Luca 
found that if he covered his figures with a coating of glaze 
formed from a mixture of tin, antimony, litharge, and other 
substances carefully prepared by the action of fire, the desired 
effect was produced to perfection, and endless durability might 
be secured for his works of clay." 



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The Genius of Luca della Robbia. 



25 




Bambino of the Innocenti, Florence. 



In substituting terra cotta for marble, Robbia's idea was to 
use for mural decorations a more durable medium than the 
frescoes and mosaics which had been used for church ornamen- 
tation, and he applied to sculpture the same principle which 
Bernard Palissy used for pottery a century later. Neither man 
pretended to originate the idea, for glazed enamel was used by 
the early Egyptians, Greeks, and by the Italians and Germans 
of the middle ages. Robbia, however, by chemical studies, im- 
proved so greatly upon the old processes that he may easily 
be regarded as the father of the art. Ruskin says : " Luca 
loved the various form^ of fruit and wrought them into all 
sorts of picturesque frames and garlands, giving them their 

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26 The Genius of Luc a della Robbia. [April, 

natural colors, only subdued, a little paler than nature." 
Flowers, wreaths, chestnuts, pine cones, foliage, floating angels, 
cherubs — all were combined with such rare ease and grace as if 
almost to seem 

** As wondrous magic of the artist's hand. 
Long stilled within the flowery citadel 
That leans above the Arno's current bland. 
Magic that can the umber earth compel 
To take sweet shape of rose and lily bell, 
In clustering fruit in hues not touched to fade.*' 

As to the Robbia flowers and fruits, Ruskin wrote : " Never 
pass the market of Florence without looking at Luca della 
Robbia's Madonna in the circle above the church, and glance 
from the vegetables underneath to Luca's leaves and lilies to 
see how honestly he was trying to make his clay like the gar- 
den stuff." This Madonna of San Pierino is one of the most 
remarkable of the sculptor's works. The gentle Madonna is one 
of the sweetest ever conceived, and the coloring exquisitely 
lovely. The eyes are dark blue, the eyebrows and lashes. pen- 
cilled with bluish gray, the pose dignified and graceful, the 
draperies flowing and easy, the expression modest, thoughtful, 
a trifle sad yet very womanly. The Child she holds to her 
breast is a wise little creature, his face shadowed and thought- 
ful, and the angels which float at either side are perfect in 
symmetry, grace, and an airy motion rarely beautiful. Luca 
loved to portray the Madonna, and his conceptions of her are 
so varied that one feels that he took no earthly model, but 
painted from his own pure soul and chaste imagination his ideal 
of the Virgin- Mother who blessed earth with her " Heaven- 
loved innocence." 

Very different from the Madonna of the Mercato is that of 
the Via dell' Agnolo, the masterpiece to be found above the 
door of a miserable house in a by- street of old Florence — a 
house probably once a chapel or oratory. This bas-relief is 
one of rare beauty, and shows the most perfect traits of Robbia's 
genius. The draperies are graceful, the figures natural, the 
composition simple, the leaves and flowers perfect in hue, the 
whole lunette showing the artist at his best, and a wonderful 
best it is. In the centre, under a marvellous half wreath of 



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1903.] The Genius of Luca della Robbia. 



27 




Madonna of the Adoration in the Academy, Florence. 

lilies and foliage, stands the Madonna. An angel on either side 
bearing a vase of lilies, from her arms steps the Christ-Child 
carrying a scroll upon which is written, ** Ego sum lux Mundi.'* 
She is not the pathetic Virgin of San Pierino, weighed down 
by the tragedy of the future ; nor is the Holy Child the all- 
foreseeing One of the former lunette. The Virgin is younger, 
more girlish, the sweetest, blithest young mother- maid e'er con- 
ceived, an indescribable charm about her, as there is in the child- 
ish form of the Christ, whose eager face expresses so much, 
and it is indeed, to quote Edith Thomas* beautiful poem, a 

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28 The Genius of Luca della Robbia. [April, 

" Robbia work of sparkling grace, 
A Virgin whose sweet eyes no giief foretell, 
A Child blithe stepping from her soft embrace, 
• Light for the world within his hands and on his face." 

Of a still different type is the sweet little Virgin of the 
Annunciation at the Florentine Foundling Hospital. Sweet and 
girlish, comprehending yet scarcely apprehending all of her 
destiny, she has neither the joyous grace of the Virgin dell' 
Agnolo, nor the tragic sadness of the Virgin of San Pierino. 
Kneeling at her devotions, a gentle, prayerful soul, she is sur- 
prised by the visit of the angel, a graceful creature, one of 
" Heaven's golden- winged host," whose eyes are rapt and earn- 
est, whose hand stretches out to her the fair lilies of the An- 
nunciation, and whose solemn lips bear the great message. 

In the clouds above, God the Father gazes down upon the 
scene, surrounded by countless little bodiless cherubs, beautiful 
in their varied expressions of infantile innocence. Very ap- 
propriate seems this framing of cherubs for the Hospital of the 
Innocenti — innocent ones, as the Italians gracefully term the 
foundlings — and even more appropriate are the Innocenti in the 
Loggia, those beautiful and almost beatified bambini. These 
swaddled children of the Innocenti were done at the time when 
Luca and Andrea worked together, and the credit of them is 
often given to the younger sculptor. He had not, however, at that 
time reached the full height of his genius, and it is probable 
that Luca guided the hand that wrought them and originated 
the idea if he did not complete the design. How charming 
they are, these darling children, all 

*' In azure and in white ; 
Above that portal all compassionate, 
Outreaching in their weakness and their might, 
The Innocenti keep their welcoming state, 
And for the city waifs, their human brethren, wait." 

It is impossible to conceive of any portrayal of childhood 
more perfect and more appealing than these bambini of Robbia's. 
Their faces are so childish yet so wise, there is in their forms 
not the gay abandon of Donatello's children, nor the suave 
grace of the ** Cantoria," but there is infinitely more of the 
mystery of childhood, its joy, its wistfulness, its wonder of the 



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1903] 



THE Genius of Luc a della Robbia, 



29 




Adoration at La Verna. 



future. They appeal to the heart as do few portrayals of child 
nature, and plead for their helpless brothers, the foundlings, as 
could neither tongue nor pen of to-day. 

The great popularity of the lily in Robbia's works may 
have been due to its being the Florentine emblem, or its snowy 
purity in contrast to the glossy green of its leaves may have 
appealed to him as a special symbol of the " lily among 
thorns," for in some form or another it appears in nearly all of 
his bas-reliefs of the Blessed Virgin. Particularly beautiful it 
is in the lovely Madonna of the Adoration, now in the Academy 
at Florence. Lilies twined with superb pine cones, glossy 
leaves, and bell-like blossoms wreathe the sculpture, while a 
spray of lilies so perfect as to seem almost alive grows upward. 



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30 THE Genius of Luca della Robbja. [April, 

the flowers bending their heads lovingly over the form of the 
little Christ- Child, whose tiny hand is so eagerly raised to the 
mother- face bending above him. The Blessed Virgin, her face 
a marvel of sweetness, tenderness, and adoring love, deeply 
tinged with sadness, kneels in an attitude, of rare grace, two 
angel hands holding a diadem above her head. The simplicity 
of composition in this " Adoration " is one of its choicest traits, 
in which respect it far outranks the Adoration at La Verna. 
This is a powerful bas-relief set in ornate pilasters, a border of 
cherubs framing the top. The Virgin is very beautiful and 
graceful, the Child one of Robbia*s best ; but the upper part of the 
picture is too crowded with figures — God the Father, the Dove 
representing the Holy Spirit, angels and cherubs — to seem at first 
sight wholly congruous. Upon further study each figure, how- 
ever, has its raison d'etre ; each is distinct, each pregnant with 
life and meaning; all reverently adore the Prince of Earth and 
Heaven. 

0.ie of Robbia's most remarkable groups is that in the 
Medici Chapel in Santa Croce (Florence). Angels crown the 
Mother of Christ, lovely floating angels with clinging draperies. 
At the right are St. Elizabeth, St. John Baptist, and another 
saint, and at the left St. Lawrence, St. Francis, and a bishop ; 
all are turned in adoration toward the Christ- Child, who stands 
on his Mother's knee, a lovely, wise little creature, though the 
Blessed Virgin is not so fair as many of Robbia's Madonnas. 
The picture is quoted by some critics as merely " in the Robbia 
manner," and many of the details point to its having been 
completed by pupils of the great teacher. The design was cer- 
tainly Luca*s, and his is the flower-work on the severely beauti- 
ful pilasters, and the cherubs in the background of pure blue, 
the blue of the soft Italian skies. 

Studying carefully the work of this great master, one realizes 
that from nature Luca always made his studies. His character- 
istics cannot be better described than in the words of the 
sympathetic Marchesa Burlamacchi: 

** In Italy at this time there was a growing love for the things 
of nature, and Luca realized the decorative value of the 
architecture of nature. He was a realist at the best. He 
painted nature well because he loved nature well, and because, 
in his simple innocence, he knew that for perfect decoration 
the artist must turn to nature and find in the flowers his lessons. 



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1903] 



THE GENIUS OF LUCA BELLA ROBBIA. 



31 




Our Lord, The Blessed Virgin, and Saints, Santa Croce, Florence. 

Therefore above the churches and the markets he set the 
emblems of the love of God and girded them with the visible 
sign of that affection that we have on all sides, framing his 
teaching of religion's deepest lesson with a rich frame of the 
fruits and flowers with which God had decoritfed the world J[for 
our delight. He originated works of the greatest beauty which 
sprang from a highly cultured activity, a knowledge of technique 
unrivalled in his own sphere of operation, and a desire to put 
his heart into his labor. 

The work of the man was but the exponent of his character. 
Like Galahad of old, 

*' His strength was as the strength of ten 
Because his soul was pure," 

and in the whiteness of his life nature wrought her fairest 
flowers, little children nestled close in their innocent purity, 
cherubs floated and angels hovered, and all the sweet and holy 
things of earth and heaven joined to minister to his genius. 



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32 Perdita's Choice. [April, 



PERDITA'S CHOICE. 

BY GEORGINA PELL CURTIS. 
I. 

[T was on the steps of the Bargello, where Niccolo 
de NiccoH, one of the greatest book-lovers in 
Europe, met the beautiful Piero de' Pazzi and 
persuaded him to abandon a life of pleasure for 
one of literature, that she stood one April morn- 
ing, the little Florentine, Perdita. At dawn she had walked 
into the city from the outlying country, the dew fresh on the 
violets in her basket; now at noon her flowers were sold, the 
last bunch having been bought by a young lady just entering 
the Museum as the bells of the city rang out the Angelus. 

Perdita, devout little Catholic, crossed herself, and folded 
her slender brown hands, the while she repeated the midday 
call to prayer; then turning down the street, with her empty 
basket poised lightly on her head, started for home. How 
pretty the young lady was who had bought her flowers ! 

"Inglese," thought Perdita, "and rich! The jewels on her 
hands sparkled like the sun as she took my violets. If only I 
had some money like that to help the little mother ! " 

The noon-tide sun grew hotter and hotter, but the young 
girl went on unheeding. Now she was out on the road leading 
to Fiesole, and had begun to climb the hill. 

"Your pardon, signorina," said a voice in Italian, making 
Perdita start and turn. Who could be addressing her as 
signorina ! 

She saw a dark, handsome man, neatly dressed, though not 
a gentleman if the child had known how to distinguish. To 
her eyes, however, he appeared very great indeed; but she 
remembered that both her mother and the good parish priest 
had warned her against strange men, so she drew back rather 
coldly. 

" You would like to earn some money for the mother and 
brothers," continued the stranger; ** You are poor and make 
but little selling flowers." 



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1^3-1 Perdita's Choice. 33 

"Yes," answered Perdita. How could the man know so 
much ? 

"It is very sad," he went on, "that the dear mother should 
ixeed so much and have so little. See, I know of a way in 
which you can grow rich, over beyond the ocean in America, 
where every one has money. If you will come with my wife 
and me, in a few months you can come back with gold and 
redeem the mortgage on the house, and then there will be no 
more care." 

How wonderful it all sounded, and how much the good 
stranger knew about their affairs. An overpowering desire 
seized the child; it all seemed so simple — ^to go for a time, to 
come back rich and able to make every one happy. Her eyes 
sparkled. 

"You are very kind, signor," she answered. "We are in 
great need, and things have been getting worse and worse. I 
will ask the mother and see what she says." 

" Do," said the man, " and I will see you to-morrow and 
get your answer." 

The mother and brothers listened with wonder-open eyes ; it 
all sounded so fair. Had they consulted the father to whom 
they went regularly for confession, he would have known better ; 
but alas! he was away and it never occurred to the simple 
peasants to go to some other priest. 

On the morrow Perdita was ready with her answer. She 
would go to America; but the signor's wife must first come 
and see her mother. They came together, the man and his wife, 
and as an assurance of their reliability presented the simple 
Italian woman with five dollars in Italian gold. After that all 
was haste, and Perdita felt as in a dream. For the last time 
she walked the streets of her " city glorious," visiting first one 
loved spot and then another, until the day when, settled in a 
third-class compartment, she steamed away from Florence. Her 
gaze took in the fast vanishing scene, and only the child's faith 
kept her up, as her eyes strained in the gathering darkness for 
one more look on the purple Apennines the while her heart 
cried out in the sweet Italian tongue — " a rivederla — a rivederla ! " 

Four days later they embarked at Havre, and within a few 
hours Perdita, homesick and miserable, was experiencing all the 
horrors of the transatlantic steerage. 

VOL. LZXVII.— 3 

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34 Perdita's Choice. [April, 

II. 

It was midsummer in New York. Uptown the city was 
nearly deserted. In Attorney Street the hot August sun beat 
down on the pavements, that reeked of garbage and filth. On 
either side of the street were tall tenements crowded to over- 
flowing, each floor holding as many people as could have been 
comfortably accommodated in the whole building. 

In a back room on the top floor of one of the poorest of 
the tenements about a dozen women were crowded together 
busily engaged in sewing. 

The heat was stifling, the air intolerable, and the light, re- 
flected from a brick wall built close to the broken and dirty 
windows, not sufficient to make it easy to work on the heavy 
black garments that each woman held. The women were mostly 
of the lowest type, heavy, sullen, and sodden, all save one, 
who sat furthest from the windows and in the worst light, 
which nevertheless revealed a delicate, flower* like face from 
which looked out eyes that spoke of anguish and pain. 

Alas! poor Perdita. Gone were her happy dreams and ex- 
pectations of what the new, unknown country would bring her. 
The child was crushed and stunned by her surroundings, home- 
sick and heart-sick, unable to speak or hear her own language. 
For four months she had been confined in the three rooms that 
made up the crowded home of the pe6ple she had been sold 
or rented to. Both they and the other women in the work- 
shop were Germans, most of them Jews, and too indifferent or 
apathetic to take any interest in the young girl. The ** signor " 
had been induced to part with her owing to the jealousy of his 
wife, who threatened to disclose all his dishonest dealings in 
the sweat-shop traffic if he refused. 

The young girl's ignorance of the language spoken by her 
fellow- workwomen saved her from contamination; yet at the same 
time could she have understood she would have learned her 
own independence, and that she could have recourse to law to 
be freed from her present bondage. 

During the four months of her incarceration she had worked 
steadily for fourteen hours a day, receiving no pay. 

Ill-fed, miserably housed, deprived of air and exercise, the 
wonder was she had not died. She thought of her mother and 
brothers, of the orchards and valleys, and far-off snow-capped 



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I90J.] PERDiTA's Choice. 35 

mountains of her native Tuscany, with a dumb anguish of recol- 
lection. Why had she come away ? And yet she had done it 
for the beat. One thing only was not dead — deprived of Mass 
and the Sacraments, the child still prayed; though could she 
have put her supplication into verse, it would have been in 
the language of the Breton peasant : 

" Saints of my countrj^ pray for me ; 
The saints of this countn^ know me not" 

Far off seemed the holy saints and the Blessed Mother in those 
days. 

One morning she was surprised to find that she was the 
only one working in the usually overcrowded room. It was 
the first Monday in September and Labor Day, a fact that her 
better informed companions had taken advantage of. After 
sewing steadily until noon, she stopped to eat the sausage and 
coarse black bread that made her midday meal. The woman 
with whom she lived put on her bonnet and went out, locking 
the door after her. 

Perdita put down her work and arose ; escape had hitherto*^ 
seemed impossible, but now a feeling of desperation seized the' 
young g^irl, as if she must find a way. Suddenly she started; 
at the other end of the room was a key in the h>ck of one of 
the closet doors that did duty as a bed- room. 

In a second Perdita had crossed the room, taken the key 
from the lock, and was back at the hall door. People who aim . 
to be overcareful have moments of extraordinary carelessness, * 
and it was so in this case ; the key that her jailer had Over- 
looked, fitted and turned in the lock, and cautiously the young 
girl opened the door. Then she paused ; she must have money 
or she could not get away, and yet she hesitated to take what^ 
had not been given to her. 

**I have worked for four months," thought Perdita, whose 
brain was clearing with reviving hope, " and without any pay. 
The good God will pardon me if I take what is my due." 

She shut the door and stole softly back into one of the 
miserable bed-rooms. Yes, here was her mistress' purse. 
Perdita took it, slipped it in her dress, and very softly stepped' 
out on the landing, shutting and locking the door behind her.* 
The hall was dark, and trembling for fear of meeting some one' 
she knew, the young girl softly descended the rickety stairs, 

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36 PjSRDiTA's Choice. [April,: 

amd in a few. moments was out on the street, walking rapidly: 
toinrard the north. The pavement swarmed with men, w.omen, 
aad <jhildren, but the very crowd helped her escape. No one', 
noticed her ,as she turned into Houston Street and started west ;. 
surely her guardian angel was leading her! After the n)onth$. 
ef confinement her limbs w^re stiff; but hope buoyed her up, 
and it was not long before she reached the Bowery. Here she 
paused; thep almost unconsciously she turned south again, and 
at Grand Street some instinct made her hail a passing car, and 
sBe was soon speeding toward the Pennsylvania Railroad ferry. 
Totally unacquainted with the money or customs of the country, 
the young g^rl, nevertheless, knew enough to hand the con- 
ductor some money, which was fortunately a dime and not a 
penny, so her ignorance escaped comment When they reached 
the river she drew a long breath of delight. Whither should 
she go ? As if in answer to her thoughts her ear was greeted 
by the soft, melodious language of her native Italy, and turning 
qpickly, Perdita saw a little group of two women, a man and a 
child, standing near her. Here, indeed, was salvation, and in 
a< moment's time the poor child was pouring forth her tale to 
sympathetic but by no means surprised listeners, who were 
only too ready to aid her to the best of their ability. They 
proved to be a party of emigrants starting for the far West 
The man had a brother in Montana who had prospered, and 
sent for him to join in his work. Perdita readily agreed to 
accompany them. Any thought of returning to Italy at present 
she put out of her mind, so great was her fear of encounter- 
ing the ^'signor" on the long journey alone, and of being 
again taken into bondage. The purse she held proved to have 
enough for an emigrant ticket, and within an hour she was on 
a Pennsylvania Railroad train, flying over the flat Jersey marshes^ 
with hope, joy, liberty new born in her heart. 



III. 

A little town in Montana near one of the Indian missions, 
this was the place to which the emigrants had come. How 
pure and sweet the September air was after the foul atmosphere 
of Attorney Street, how blue the sky, how kind the people she 
was with! They proved to be Italians of more than ordinary 
intelligence, though not from her part of Italy. Pasquale's 



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1903.] Perdita's Choice. 37 

brother met them, and conducted them to a little cottage on 
the outskirts of the town. He had excellent work and pay as 
a contractor, and was able to promise his brother steady em- 
ployment. 

" I must work, too," thought Perdita ; so before long she 
was established at the Indian Mission, some miles distant, where 
there was work in plenty for willing hearts and hands under the 
supervision of the devoted sisters. They had a school for Indiaa 
children, and Perdita's duties were to clean and take care of 
their rooms. Everything was rough and primitive, lack of funds 
making the simplest living and plainest building necessary ; but 
the young gfirl gradually came to understand and appreciate the 
magnificent work. 

Her first care, after recovering from the fatigue of the long 
journey, was to get Pasquale to write a letter to her mother; 
that done, her mind was at rest. In spite of past hardships she 
believed that God had led her to this country, and that there, 
was work for her to do. 

Pure air, good food, and kind treatment soon transformed 
her into her old self. Her eyes were as bright, her color as 
fresh, and her step as elastic as on that memorable April morning 
when she sold violets on the Bargello. But she could not for- 
get the months of bondage and misery. How many of her 
country-women, she wondered, were in a like situation ? All 
could not escape, as she had done. Might not many lose their 
religion, or take to a life of sin under the stress of such appal- 
ling hardships ? 

She learned to speak English, and after that went to con- 
fession — the first time in over a year; only to the good father 
did she tell her desire to return some day to the great city in 
the East, and try to uplift and liberate the women torn from 
their home and country under false promises, as she had been. 

It was two years from the time of her coming to the mis- 
sion and she was now eighteen year old. Taller than most of 
her country-women, slender, brown-eyed, she looked the imper- 
sonation of sweetness and beauty. The sisters loved her, the 
little Indian children adored her, and the mother in far off Italy 
had been made happy by accounts of her well-being, and by 
regular remittances from her slender earnings* All this time 
^he young g^irl had a purpose: the determination to fit herself 



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38 PERDiTA's Choice. [April, 

in every possible way for the work she had in mind. She 
learned the history, customs, and laws of her adopted country, 
.and the domestic arts of cooking, sewing, and mending. Every- 
thing she could acquire she picked up readily, storing it away 
for future use. Attached to the mission was a handsome youth 
• of twenty, the offspring of a marriage between an Italian father 
and an Indian mother. The father's language and physique had 
impressed themselves most strpngly on the child, although with 
it he had the mother's patience and powers of endurance. . Edu- 
cated entirely at the mission, he had proved an apt pupil, show- 
ing traits of character and personality that made the devoted 
and overworked Irish father hope he might follow in his foot- 
steps. 

The boy inherited the poetic and spiritual nature of Italy, 

:without its passionate temper and lack of self-control. He had 

early imbibed a full knowledge of the degraded position held 

4 by his mother's people, and that their only uplifting could come 

through the religious education g^ven them by the church. 

It was while he was still undecided about his future that he 
met Perdita and loved her. All the romance of Italy, joined 
to the faithfulness and patience of the Indian, was bound up in 
his devotion to her. 

It was not difficult for Perdita to love him in return, al- 
though as yet no word had passed between them. 

And so matters stood the third summer of her coming to 
Montana; she was now nineteen and Giovanni was twenty-one. 
One August afternoon two of the nuns took the younger chil- 
dren into the country for a picnic. The delicious air of late 
summer, the fields and roadsides covered with golden-rod, all 
combined to put the party in high spirits. Perdita and Gio- 
.vanni were everywhere among the children until after the mid- 
day repast, when the little ones, tired of games, sat down 
around one of the sisters to listen to a story. The father took 
Giovanni for a walk, and Perdita, released from any duties for 
the moment, started toward one of the near-by hills, where she 
knew some particular kind of wild flowers grew that she was 
anxious to take home for the good Sister Superior to use in 
dressing the altar. 

The road was familiar to her, and two miles of rapid walk- 
ing soon brought her almost to the centre of a range of foot- 



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1903.] Perdita's Choice. 39 

hills through which flowed a stream of water, bn the banks of 
which grew some . star-like white blossoms among the coarse 
grass. So deeply engaged was the young girl in gathering the 
flowers and .laying them carefully in her basket, that she did 
not notice a dark, funnel-shaped cloud that had come suddenly 
.out of the north-west and was advancing rapidly toward her. 



IV. 

A sudden rush of cold air, and a darkening of the atmos- 
phere, first warned her of approaching danger. She had 
hardly time to grasp hold of the lower branches of a near-by 
tree when the wind was whirling around her, the dust, leaves, 
and flying dibris almost blinding and choking her. Then, above 
the howling of the storm, she thought she heard Giovanni's 
voice calling her — " Perdita," he shouted — "Perdita!" Vainly 
she tried to answer, at last taking refuge in prayer, and even 
as she did so she heard a crash as if the tree she had hold of 
had been struck; the next moment the branches in her hand 
.gave way, the young girl was thrown against the trunk of the 
.tree, and in the same moment lost consciousness. 

When she opened her eyes it was to see a fair, lovely face 
bending over her. In Perdita's mind there immediately arose 
some confused remembrance of having seen the face before, but 
excessive weakness brought on a fainting fit. When for the 
second time she opened her eyes, she was able to notice her 
surroundings, and see that she was in a beautiful room, with 
some one, evidently a nurse, in attendance. In a faint voice 
she asked in Italian where she was; the nurse came forward 
and then, seeing she had not understood, Perdita repeated her 
question in English. 

"You are in good hands," said the nurse. "There was a 
terrible cyclone, and although you were only on the edge of it, 
you were injured and brought here. Now you must sleep, and 
when you are better you shall hear all." 

In a few days the young girl began to improve rapidly, 
and in a week she was up and able to hear all that had hap- 
pened. A severe cyclone, limited as to area but disastrous in 
its effects, had passed across . the outlying country. She was 
not directly in its path, but near enough to feel some of its 



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40 Perdita's Choice. [April, 

force ; and the breaking of the branches she was clinging to 
had thrown her against the tree, injuring her head and causing 
unconsciousness. She had been found by a gentleman and his 
daughter, who had been driving through the hills and had 
escaped the path of the cyclone; they had lifted her in their 
carriage and brought her to their home, where she now was. 
Perdita learned with deep emotion that the two sisters and their 
little charges who had come out on the picnic were right in 
the full p^th of the tornado, and that not one of them escaped. 
Where was Giovanni ? She remembered the sound of his voice 
(as she thought) calling her during the storm. Then there was 
a return of the curious recollection she had had when she first 
regained consciousness and saw Katherine Morgan bending over 
her. Suddenly one day light flashed on her. It was on the 
steps of the Bargello in Florence, where she had sold her 
violets to a visitor just entering the museum, and the young 
lady in question — English, as she had thought — was her hos- 
tess, the daughter of one of the richest men in Montana I 

Strange as it may seem, Katherine Morgan also remembered 
the incident, and her interest in Perdita deepened. She heard 
all her history, even to the young girl's desire to go back to 
New York and work among her country-women in the slums. 

"It will be a hard and trying life," she said. "Have you 
thought of that ? " 

** Yes," answered Perdita, " but the good God will be with 
me, and if I can relieve some of the suffering that I know 
exists, I shall be repaid." 

" I would like to help her," said Katherine Morgan to her 
father that evening. " Providence seems to have twice brought 
her in my way, and the work she has in mind is a splendid 
one." 

*' Do whatever you like," answered her father, " though I 
think she is young yet for such a choice. The girl is beautiful 
enough to marry any day." 

"There seems to be a lover," said Katherine, "but she has 
lost sight of him in the general confusion, and is not well 
enough yet to go in search of him. I sent word to the sisters 
who are left at the Indian mission that she is here safe; but 
they have had heavy losses themselves, and beyond a grateful 
message of thanks through the messenger, we have heard 
nothing further." 



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1903.] Perdita's Choice. 41 

It was a month before Perdita was fully recovered, and able 
to leave her kind friends. Katherine Morgan drove her over to 
the mission — a distance of five miles. It was a warm, sunny 
October day as the young girl caught sight of the mission 
buildings. Knowing how many of the children had been lost, 
she expected to find the place almost deserted ; instead of which 
it was crowded with strange faces. Many of the new children 
had lost their parents in the recent cyclone, while others had 
long been waiting for admission. 

The daughter of the rich Montana banker took it all in : the 
devoted and tireless work of the sisters, and the never-ending 
need of the Indian mission. She left, promising to see Perdita 
soon again, and drove home with her mind full of the sisters^ 
noble self-sacrifice, and of Perdita's plan. 

A Catholic herself, Katherine Morgan realized with a sigh 
how much good could be done if all Catholics were as 
s]rstematically generous as her father. Her mind went over a 
list of men and women she knew who gave little or nothing to 
assist the crying need at their door. 

Meanwhile Perdita inquired eagerly for Giovanni; but no 
tidings of him had reached the mission. Father Ryan had been 
found and had recovered from the shock of the storm ; but 
could only recall that he and the young man had become 
separated in the dust and wind. It was not until a week later 
that Giovanni walked in the mission gate one morning, pale, 
emaciated, and showing what he had been through ; but patient, 
trustworthy, and loyal as of yore. He was received with ac- 
clamations of joy, and eager inquiries as to where he had been. 
On the evening of the cyclone he had been found insensible 
by a party of Indians, who conveyed him to the Reservation 
and nursed him until he was sufficiently recovered to leave. 
He still needed care, which Perdita and the good sisters were 
only too ready to g^ve him. Another winter thus passed at 
the mission; these two souls, linked in a high purpose, being 
led little by little to see and fit themselves for their life's work. 



It was nearly a year later that one summer evening two 
figures were mounting one of the Montana foot-hills together. 
The girl of twenty and the young man of twenty- two, had both 



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42 Perdita's Choice. [April, 

been made older and graver by the experiences they had passed 
through. It was a different Perdita from the girl of sixteen 
who had walked the streets of her native Tuscany, yet there 
was the same child- like purity of brow, the same tender, serious 
eyes that Katherine Morgpan had noticed four years ago. 

As they reached the brow of the hill, and the horizon 
stretched out before them, all crimson and gold in the west 
with its light reflected on the trees and hills, the young people 
turned toward each other. They had loved well and faithfully, 
and now the time had come when they had decided to part. 
Something of the glory of the sunset, a reflection, as it were, 
of its eternal peace, was in Giovanni's face as he spoke to her 
in the language neither of them had ever forgotten. 

" Perdita mia," he said, " I have brought you here because 
I know what your plans are, and I want to tell you .mine. 
Up to the time of the cyclone I had no thought beyond 
winning you for my wife, and settling down near the mission to 
work under the sisters; but that day of the terrible storm 
altered everything save my love for you. Face to face with 
eternity we learn something of the realities of life, and it was 
so with me then." 

"Yes," answered Perdita, 

They had sat down side by side on the fallen trunk of a 
tree, and behind her was the sunset that was reflected in her 
lover's face. 

"When I recovered consciousness," proceeded Giovanni, 
"and found I was being cared for by my mother's people, I 
began to notice their poverty s^nd their isolation. It seemed to 
me they had not even as matiy advantages, or as many avenues 
of employment open to them as the negro, and yet they are 
living in the country that has been theirs hundreds of years." 

"They need uplifting," said Perdita. 

"Yes," continued Giovanni, "so it seemed to me. I re- 
membered how Father Ryan said that the harvest was ready, 
but the laborers were few ; and then I also remembered that 
when I called to you in the storm I made a vow to give my 
best and dearest to God, if only you and I were saved. And 
then it came to me like a lightning flash that that best and 
dearest was my own life and my love for you." 

"Ah! Giovanni," said Perdita, "surely the good God has 
led us both. I thought I heard you calling in the storm, and 



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1903.] Perdita's Choice. 43 

I asked the blessed saints to bring you to a haven of safety, 
even if I never saw you again." 

There was silence for a moment and then Giovanni ended 
with almost boyish tenderness and enthusiasm : 

"And so, Perdita, when you go to the East to begin your 
life-work, I shall begin mine : I am going to study for the 
priesthood, so I can work among my mother's people. There 
are so much misery and suffering among them, so much degra- 
dation, and such ignorance of our holy religion, there is work 
. ready for me everywhere, and for other men, when they come." 

"May God bless and guide you!" said Perdita. 

The sun went down as they sat there with clasped hands; 
then, in the gathering darkness, they arose and walked slowly 
back to the mission gate, in their hearts a great love,; an en- 
during hope, and a brave renunciation. 

It is ten years later. In the far west Father Giovanni 
works among his poor Indians, with the patience of his 
mother's race, and with the deep faith and sanguine hopeful- 
ness of bis father's forebears in sunny Italy. The tired sisters 
turn to him for renewed courage and perseverance, the little 
children love him with unerring childish instinct 

In the great city to the East, right in the heart of the 
Italian district, a sweet-faced Italian woman presides over a 
large building that has been remodelled from a tenement, and 
made into a comfortable home. Helped in her start by money 
from her generous friend Katherine Morgan, the work had now 
become almost self-supporting. The calls on Perdita's time 
and patience are endless; but she is happy, for her work has 
.been a magnificent success, bringing her the love and gratitude 
of thousands of her country-women, and the devoted co-opera- 
tion of the fathers in near-by and surrounding parishes. 

Does this story seem chimerical ? Is it too high an ideal to 
expect of a low-born Italian and an Indian half-breed ? Let 
those who doubt go South and West and learn for themselves 
of the refining influence exerted on the mind, speech, and 
character of the children committed to the charge of these 
women who are indeed the "salt of the earth." 



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44 THE EMPLOYER'S OBLIGATION. [April, 

THE EMPLOYER'S OBLIGATION TO PAY A LIVING WAGE. 

BY REV. JOHN A. RYAN, S.T.L. 
THE BASIS OF RIGHT. 

J HE right to a living wage, like all other moral 
rights, is based on man's rational nature. To 
this standard all human conduct, if it is to be 
moral and reasonable, must conform. The lower 
human activities must be subordinated to the 
higher ; the animal faculties must be so exercised as to 
promote the proper activity and development of the moral, 
intellectual, and spiritual faculties. Such, in brief, is the 
natural moral law. The immediate reason for this law is found 
in the intrinsic superiority of the higher or rational portion of 
human nature. Man's rational nature has a value, an excel- 
lence, a sacredness in itself, independently of any temporal uses 
which it may serve, and is in itself worthy of consideration 
and reverence. Ultimately^ to be sure, this intrinsic worth of 
personality has its source in the Divine Reason. Now, it is 
impossible for man to treat his rational nature with due respect^ 
to develop his personality in a moral and reasonable way, un- 
less he has access to certain external conditions, certain oppor- 
tunities of action. If human beings lived apart from, and 
totally independent of one another, the possession and use of 
these conditions would never provoke conflict. Each person 
would live out his own life without interference from the others. 
Since, however, men do and must live in society, the possi- 
bility of disagreement arises, and with it the need of an ad- 
justment of conflicting activities, and a rational distribution of 
those conditions and opportunities of life which God has be- 
stowed upon all men in common. The primary principle 
governing the use and distribution of these goods is that each 
man must treat not only his own but his neighbor's personality 
as a thing sacred, and worthy of being cherished in itself and 
for its own sake. This is the great principle of the dignity of 
personality, which received its flrst adequate expression cen- 
turies ago in the moral teaching of the Catholic Church, and 



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^903.] The EMPLOYER'S Obligation. 4i 

which Kant has popularized in modern times in the. dictum;/ 
"Treat humanity, whether in yourself or in others, as an endj 
never as a mere means." According to this law, therefore 
(which, of course, finds its ultimate sanction in God), men are 
bound to deal with external goods and opportunities in such a 
way as npt to deprive any person— except through his own 
fault — of the means required to develop his rational nature. If 
this is not done human personality is violated, and the moral 
law is broken. Now, this moral power or prerogative, this 
moral title or claim, which each individual has to the means of 
personal development, constitutes what is known as a moral (as 
distinguished from a legal) right. It is merely a necessary 
means to th^ development of rational nature. And since all 
men are «qual in the essentials of rational nature, the right to 
the external conditions of personal development inheres in 
every individual. 

WHAT THE RIGHT MEANS IN THE CASE OF THE LABORER. 

Among these conditions must be numbered the possession 
of such material goods as are required to enable a man to live 
decently as the head of a family. Without this much of the 
earth's bounty, right and reasonable life becomes for the aver- 
age man so difficult as to be practically impossible. God's 
material gifts, therefore, ought, as a matter of justice, to be so 
distributed as to provide every adult male with this reasonable 
minimum. In the case of the laborer this means a family liv- 
ing wage. Society has distributed the functions of industry, 
and limited the laborer's opportunities in such a way that his 
right to a decent livelihood must be realized through his wages 
or not at all. Absolutely speaking, particular individuals are at 
liberty to seek a livelihood in some other way; but the wage- 
earners as a class are compelled by the very constitution of 
present industrial society to continue as wage-earners, and con- 
sequently to depend exclusively on their wages for the means 
of existence. Hence the laborer's right to a decent livelihood, 
which be enjoys in common with all men who perform a rea- 
sonable amount of socially useful labor, becomes in the concrete 
conditions of our time the right to a family living wage. 

UPON WHOM RESTS THE CORRESPONDING OBLIGATION? 

The obligation corresponding to this right falls in a general 

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46 THE Employer's Obligation. [April, 

way upon society, since society confines the laborer's wealth- 
getting activities to the sphere of wage-earning, and is the 
beneficiary of his toil. As a matter of fact, however, society 
has transferred the obligation to a special agency, namely, the 
employers or directors of industry. Thus the distributive func- 
tion of the industrial organism has been specialized, and the 
indefinite and general obligation attaching thereto has become 
definite and specific. The employers are the distributors of the 
social product, and upon them falls the obligation of assigning 
his just share to the laborer. 

True, society has not, either in its political or industrial 
capacity, explicitly commanded the employer to pay' a living 
wage ; but this negligence, whether right or wrong, wise or un- 
wise, does not release the employer. No formal leg^islative 
enactment is needed to impose this obligation. It arises out 
of the very nature of the employer's position in the industrial 
organism. Society charges him with the wage-paying function, 
and he accepts the charge. He is bound, therefore, to exer- 
cise it in conformity with the dictates of reason and justice. 
To deny this is to imply that rights can exist without correla- 
tive duties. To assume that nowhere in society is there a con- 
crete, living obligation corresponding to the laborer's right to a 
decent livelihood, is in effect to declare that, so far as our 
industrial relations are concerned, we are living not in a condi- 
tion of order but of anarchy. 

TWO WAYS OF CLASSIFYING THE EMPLOYER'S OBLIGATION. 

According to the view just outlined, the employer's obliga- 
tion to pay a living wage has a social character, and belongs 
to the sphere of distributive justice. It is also commonly re- 
garded as a duty of commutative, or strict justice, inasmuch as 
it arises out of a contract between individuals. The employer 
is bound by the law of strict justice to give an exact equiva- 
lent for the service that he receives, or, as it is generally ex- 
pressed, to remunerate la'bor at its full or just value. This does 
not mean economic or market value ; for wages are practically 
always equal to the value of labor in this sense. What is meant 
is that labor ought to be paid for at its ethical value, which is 
determined by the social estimate of what is fair. Now, the 
social estimate, it is maintained, always rates labor as worth at 
least a living wage Elsewhere I have tried to show, that the 



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1903.] The Employer's Obligation. 47 

''social estimate" is indefinite and of little use as a moral 
guide. (See the Catholic University Bulletin^ April, 1902.) We 
do not know whether it adjudges a man's labor in all cases as 
worth a living wage, and even if we were assured that it does, 
we might perhaps not be ready to accept its decision as final. 
We might insist on examining the reasons upon which it is 
based, and the character of the social body from which it proceeds. 

As a matter of fact, the defenders of this view do not con- 
sider labor in the abstract When estimating its just value 
they take into account the fact that it is the output of a per- 
son. (C/ Vermeersch, Qucestiones de Justitia^ pp. 557, seq.) 
The human dignity of the laborer is introduced into the equa- 
tion, and the value of his labor is estimated accordingly. Un- 
derstood in this way, the contention that labor, or rather, the 
laborer, is worth a living wage is altogether valid. Human 
labor-force should be dealt with and measured as the attribute 
of a person, a rational creature who has an indestructible right 
to live a decent human life. Consequently the employer may 
not lawfully impose upon him wage conditions which will make^ 
the exercise of this right impossible. This principle holds good 
whether the laborer is engaged in producing marketable utili- 
ties, as in the case of the factory hand and the conductor on a 
street railway ; or in rendering his employer direct personal 
service, as exemplified in the functions of a valet or a coach- 
man. In both instances the man who works full time expends 
all his labor-power for the benefit of his employer, and is by 
the very terms of the labor contract deprived of any other 
means of getting a livelihood except his wages. Consequently,, 
if the employer does not pay a living wage he ignores the 
human dignity of the laborer and violates one of his most im- 
portant rights. 

Both of the foregoing arguments are based on the dignity of- 
the laborer as a person, his moral equality with 2^11 other per- 
sons, and his equal right with his fellows to as much of the 
earth's material goods as is needed to safeguard the sacred- 
ness of personality. In one word, they are arguments drawn 
from the laborer's individual rights. The conclusion to which 
they lead, namely, that the employer is bound in justice to pay 
a family living wage, is likewise obtained when we take the 
view-point of society. If social order and well; being are to be 
maintained, if society is to live in a condition of normal health,. 



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46 THE EMPLOYEFUS OBLIGATION. [April,; 

that.portioa of it known a& the ;workingmeri will necessarily 
have to be providied with a wage that will enable them to live 
decently, to marry, and to support a family in reasonable com- 
fort and security. When these conditions are wanting the 
welfare, and even the existence, of society is threatened. Hence 
the employer, who has been entrusted by. society with the 
wage-paying function, is obliged to perform this function in a 
manner consistent with the social welfare. ;^ 

THE laborer's PRODUCTIVITY AN UNKNOWN QUANTITY. 

Those who deny that the employer is bound to pay a living 
wage maintain that the laborer's productive power, rather than 
his essential needs, is the true measure of his rights in the 
matter, of remuneration. All productive agents should be re- 
warded in proportion to the amounts that they produce; and, 
since the actual wages of labor conform, roughly speaking, to 
this standard, the laborer who does not receive a living wage 
is not treated unjustly. So runs their argument. Now, the 
contention that a man has a right to all the wealth that he 
produces is valid in the case of goods that he creates exclusively 
by bis own efforts. When, without any assistance from others, 
a man turns out a product through the use of land, tools,, or 
machinery owned by himself, he has undoubtedly a right to 
the whole of that product It is understood, of course, that he 
does not appropriate so much land as to prevent any of his 
fellows from exercising their natural right to the use of the 
earth. For if he do not observe this condition the entire 
product is not his; a portion of it is due to labor that he has 
expended on the property of some one else. It must never be 
forgotten that man does not create goods outright, but merely 
produces utilities by transforming the raw material of nature. 
Since the latter is the common heritage of the race, no man 
may rightfully utilize it to the prejudice of the. rights of his 
fellows. However, the amount of land, and capital likewise, 
that one man can personally use is so limited that the condi- 
tion in question will generally be realized. The general propo- 
sition that a man has an exclusive right to all that he person- 
ally produces may, therefore, be safely affirmed. None of his 
fellows (abstracting from cases of extreme necessity) can estab- 
lish a title to it; for it is in no way due to them, nor to any 
property that they own, nor to any violation of their rights. 



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I903-] ^-^^ Employer's Obligation, 49 

The product in which the laborer and his employer are 
interested is not, however, of this character. It is brought into 
existence by the joint contribution of four causes : the employer, 
the laborer, land, and capital. Every part of it is due in some 
measure to each of these factors. Each is in its own order a 
cause of the whole product ; for in the absence of any one of 
them the product would not exist On the other hand, no 
factor is the whole cause of any portion of the product. 
Consequently, no portion of it can be set apart and attributed 
exclusively to any one factor. The amount of product due to 
undertaking ability is not physically distinguishable from that 
due to labor, land, or capital. What part of the factory- made 
shoe, for example, has been produced exclusively by the 
employer? But it is sometimes asserted that we can ascertain 
the productive importance of each factor, and distribute the 
product among them accordingly. This also is impossible. 
There is no scale or test available by which the relative 
importance or productive contribution of the various factors 
can be even approximately measured. The employer's pro- 
ductive importance — for it is in his interest that the attempt to 
apply this test is oftenest made — is assumed to be indicated by 
the share of the product that he actually receives. This infer- 
ence from income to productivity is evidently a particularly 
clumsy instance of the logical fallacy known as "the vicious 
circle." {Cf. The Social Problem^ by John A. Hobson, p. 160.) 
" What determines the employer's remuneration ?" ** His pro- 
ductivity." " How can we ascertain the productivity of the 
employer ?" " By referring to his remuneration." Those who 
take the trouble to get behind formulas and catchwords, and 
to examine the actual working of industrial forces, know very 
well that the income of any factor is determined by suppl)*^ 
and demand, or more precisely by the scarcity of that factor 
relatively to the scarcity of all the other factors. In a word, 
the income of a factor depends upon its "indispensableness," 
to quote Professor Smart, and not on any proportion to its 
productive efficiency.' {Distribution of Income, pp. 237, 238.) 
When undertaking ability was less plentiful than at present 
employers in competitive enterprises received larger rewards. 
Hence, their former incomes must have been in excess of their 
productive importance, or their present rewards fall below it. 

TOL. LXXVII.— 4 



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so The Employer's Obligation. [April, 

Either hypothesis leads to the conclusion that income is not a 
reliable measure of productivity. 

Undoubtedly, the employer is in most cases a more impor- 
tant factor in production than the laborer — that is, than any 
single laborer. This is easily shown by picturing the loss that 
a business would suffer if the employer and one of his unskilled 
laborers should change places; or, by comparing the respec- 
tive consequences, if they should successively withdraw from the 
business. We have no means, however, of estimating the 
relative productivity of labor in general and directive ability in 
general. In his Labor and the Popular Welfare Mr. Mallock 
has made an ingenious attempt to show that by far the greater 
part of the product of modern industry is due to mental 
ability (or simply Ability, as he writes it), and that labor gets 
more, instead of less, than it produces ; but he has not been con- 
spicuously successful. He ignores almost entirely the advances 
that labor has made in skill during the last century, exaggerates 
the mental endowments of inventors, and beyond broad general- 
ities gives not a shred of evidence for his assertion that the 
employer, or undertaker, is as exceptional and as productive 
as the inventor. The latter contention may or may not be 
true, but it is impossible of demonstration, and in Mr. Mallock's 
hands it remains an empty assumption. {Labor and the Popular 
Welfare^ passim, especially pp. 212 seq.) Similar assumptions 
arc numerous in this work. The whole theory has been cleverly 
and effectually refuted by John A. Hobson in the Contemporary 
Review for August, 1898. 

AND PRODUCTIVITY SEEMS TO BE INFERIOR TO EFFORT AS A 
MEASURE OF JUSTICE. 

Even if it were true that the employer ascertains the pre- 
cise productive contribution of each factor, and rewards them 
accordingly, the distribution would not necessarily be just. 
Why should productivity be taken as the standard of justice in 
apportioning the product? It would seem that the productive 
efforts and self-sacrifice made by the different factors — or rather 
by the owners of the factors, for land and capital are not 
responsible entities— instead of the results of their efforts, is 
the just measure of their remuneration. Abstracting from their 
respective needs and aMuming that both do their best, there 
seems from the view-point of the individual to be no ethical 



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1903] The Employer's Obligation. 51 

reason why a stronger, more skilful, or more intelligent worker 
should receive a greater recompense than his les9 efficient fellow. 
If the superior productive efficiency of the ^iormer is due to 
native ability or to better opportunities, and Ij^ot to self-denifil 
or to exceptional eflForts to improve himself, his share of the 
product ought not, as a matter of distributive justice, be 
greater than the return made . to the man whdj^e smaller effi- 
ciency is due to natural inferiority or to lesser opportunity. 
The latter has done his best,; and the former can g^y no more. 
There exists in all of us an ineradicable sense of j:Ustice which 
suggests that where a reward for exertion is to be iipportioned 
among several persons the distribution ought to' be, jipade. on 
the basis of the personal merit, good will,i $elf- Sacrifice j rhohe^t 
efforts, of the participants; that, in a> word, it should- be 
determined by conditions which they have themselves created, 
and not by aptitudes and qualities for which they are not 
personally responsible. Certainly this is the standard by which 
we hope to be rewarded by the All- wise Judge in the life 
beyond. " From him to whom much has been given much 
shall be expected," suggests the ideal measure of remuneration 
from the view-point of individual -desert. To be sure it is 
difficult to estimate the respective efforts of different men, and 
there is a very good social reason • for taking into account 
productivity — what society looks for are results, and it uses the 
means apparently best adapted to that end — but as a matter 
of abstract distributive justice the fairer standard would seem 
to be efforts. 

Therefore, to the objection that the employer is not bound 
to pay a living wage, but merely a wage proportioned to pro- 
ductivity, the answer is that the productive importance of the 
various factors cannot be ascertained; that the present distribu^ 
tion, which is sometimes assumed to be in accordance with 
productivity, is in reality governed by supply and demand ; and 
that personal effort seems to be preferable to productivity as a 
measure of individual desert. And we shall have occasion pres- 
ently to see that productivity is in any event subordinate t*" 
the standard of needs. 

WHAT IF THE EMPLOYER CANNOT, OR THINKS HE CA 
PAY A LIVING WAGE? 

In case the employer has not the means to pa' 

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52 The Employer's Obligation. [April, 

wage, the obligation to do so will be suspended; for it cannot 
continue actual in the face of physical impossibility. On the 
other hand, the inability of one or many to fulfil the obligation 
will not free those who are in better circumstances. (C/. Ver- 
meersch, Qucestiones de Justitia, pp. 579, 580.) The obligation 
rests upon each employer individually, and is as much a personal 
matter as is the duty to pay his ordinary debts. 

'* Cannot pay a living wage," is, however, fatally ambiguous. 
To one it may mean that if he pays a living wage he will be 
unable to increase his personal expenditures, or better his social 
position; to another, that the profits remaining will not be a 
fair remuneration for his expenditure of skill, energy, and directive 
ability ; to a third, that he will have nothing left with which to 
extend his business or to make new investments; to a fourth 
that he will not receive a fair rate of interest on the money 
that he has invested in his business. None of these interpre- 
tations is legitimate, and none of these purposes will justify 
an employer in ignoring the duty in question. The first is 
inadmissible because it implies a desire to subordinate the 
essential needs of the laborer to the employer's accidental 
needs. An increase In the latter's personal or family expendi- 
tures means, generally speaking, the acquisition of goods that 
are not strictly necessary for decent and reasonable living. 
This the employer may not lawfully do at the expense of a 
decent livelihood for his employees. Employer and employee 
are equal in personal dignity, and their essential needs are of 
equal worth and moral importance. A fortiori, the essential 
needs of one are morally superior to the accidental needs of 
the other. The laborer's need of the essentials of moral and 
reasonable life is more important in the moral order than the 
employer's need of life's conveniences or superfluities. Conse- 
quently, in dividing a product which has been brought into 
being by their joint efforts, or in determining the remuneration 
of personal services, the former's right to a living wage takes 
precedence of the latter's right to a higher standard of living. 
The employer is bound to give the laborer's essential needs as 
much consideration as his own, not merely because the laborer 
is his fellow-man, a creature of equal moral dignity with him- 
self, but because, in addition to the tie of human brotherhood, 
the laborer is united to him by the wage contract. By the 
terms of this contract he implicitly forbids the laborer to have 



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1903.] THE EMPLOYER'S OBLIGATION. 53 

access to any other means of safeguarding his human dignity. 
Hence the command of the moral law which requires the em- 
ployer to treat the laborer as a person, means in the concrete 
that he shall enable the latter to realize his right to a decent 
livelihood. 

Of course, it is right that the employer also should gain a 
decent livelihood from his business. This means not merely 
goods absolutely necessary for right living, but also such as are 
conventionally necessary. As conventional necessities vary ac- 
cording to a man's station in life — the position that he holds 
socially and economically and the kind of living to which he 
has been accustomed — a decent living for an employer ought, 
as a rule, to include more of the good things of life than in 
the case of an employee. In both cases it corresponds to the 
standard of life peculiar to the class. Nor is any injustice done 
to the laborer by this rule. The absolute necessaries of life, 
namely, a reasonable amount of food, clothing, shelter, educa- 
tion, and recreation, are substantially the same for both; their 
conventional necessities differ on account of the different stan- 
dards of life to which they have become accustomed. The 
hardship that would follow upon a loss of conventional necessi- 
ties would be approximately the same in both cases. '* Noth- 
ing can be more unequal than to treat unequals equally/' said 
a distinguished Austrian jurist. The rule here laid down pro- 
fesses to treat men unequally in an aspect in which they are 
de facto unequal. Hence the employer may with justice take 
from the product a sufficient amount to maintain himself and 
his family in reasonable conformity with the standard of living 
that he has come to look upon as proper to his station. 

" In reasonable conformity " ; that is to say, until he has 
paid all his employees a living wage, the employer is bound to 
refrain from all luxurious expenditure. The term, luxury, is, 
indeed, very vague and very relative. No rule applicable to 
every class can be framed to mark off sharply luxuries from 
conventional necessities. Moreover, the different social classes 
in American life merge into one another bjr insensible grada- 
tions, and men frequently regard the grade just above them, 
rather than the one in which they actually live, as the standard 
to which their expenditures ought to conform. In spite of these 
difficulties, some general observations may be made which are 
sound and helpful. Until the employer has paid his men a 

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54 THE Employer's Obligation. [April, 

living wage he is morally bound — not by the law of temper- 
ance but of justice — to confine his expenditures to the reasona- 
ble» moderate needs of himself and family. He ought not to 
go beyond the moderate satisfaction of physical, intellectual, 
moral, and spiritual wants. He ought to avoid all lavish feast- 
ing, all extravagant forms of amusement, and all ostentation in 
dress, equipage, and household appointments. In general, he 
ought to forego all expenditures that minister to idleness, sen- 
suality, frivolity, vanity, and display. His right to satisfy any 
of these wants from the proceeds of his business yields to the 
right of his employees to the conditions of a decent livelihood. 
The second ground upon which the employer bases his 
claim to be remunerated at the expense of a decent livelihood 
for the laborer, is his superior skill and ability. In reality this 
is an appeal to his superior productivity; for exceptional 
powers can claim an exceptional reward only when they issue 
in results. While productivity, as already shown, is impractica- 
ble as a general standard of distribution, it is tolerably clear 
that the employer, as a rule, does contribute more to the pro- 
ducts than any single laborer. Yet if effort and self-sacrifice 
constitute a fairer measure of justice than productivity, the em- 
ployer's claim to an exceptional reward must be set aside; 
for he does not usually, as compared with the laborer, make 
exceptional efforts or sacrifices. However this may be, both 
productivity and ^effort are secondary standards of justice and 
secondary titles to property. Men do not lay claim to goods 
merely because they have produced them, but because they 
need them. If the needs did not exist the appeal to produc- 
tivity would never have been made. Hence the title of needs 
is the end to which the title of productivity is only a means. 
If human needs had no moral value and were not the source 
of rights, productivity would have no moral character and 
could give rise to no rights. The standard of productivity 
must, consequently, be measured and justified by the end to 
which it is a means, ^nd without which it would have no 
validity. Now, if the end for which the employer desires a 
remuneration in proportion to his skill be the essential n^tds of 
personality, his appeal to productivity is superfluous; for the 
needs themselves constitute a valid right to the reward that he 
seeks. If the end be — as is overwhelmingly probable — his 
non-essential needs, the. appeal to productivity is vain; for it 



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1903.] The Employer's Obligation. 55 

is an attempt to subordinate the right of his employees to a 
decent livelihood to his own desire for the superfluities of life. 
This, as already pointed out, is a violation of the moral law. 
The situation may be summed up as a conflict between two 
titles of right, namely, productivity and needs; the former, 
being secondary, must yield to the latter. The essential needs 
of personality constitute the primary measure of distributive 
justice and the supreme right to property. 

The foregoing reasoning makes it evident that the laborer 
may not lawfully be deprived of a decent livelihood in order 
that the employer may increase his investments. This is a 
need even less important than the need oi increasing personal 
expenditures. Finally, the claim of the employer to a fair rate 
of interest on the money that he has invested in his business 
is likewise invalid when it conflicts with the laborer's right to 
a living wage, and for the same reason — it puts the non- 
essential needs of the employer above the essential ^eeds of 
the laborer. As this particular claim holds an important place 
in industrial discussion, the grounds upon which it is based 
may profitably be examined. 

THE ETHICAL BASIS OF INTEREST. 

The claims of capital ^re frequently stated in such a way 
as to convey the impression that it stands on the same moral 
footing with the laborer and the undertaker. Capital is per- 
sonified. Now, it ought not to be necessary to insist that capi- 
tal is not a moral and rational being, and cannot, tlierefore, 
establish any moral claim to a share in the product. It is not 
a producer in the sense that the laborer and the employer are 
producers, nor has it any moral and rational needs to be sup- 
plied out of the results of production. Whatever ethical claim 
it has to a portion of the product must be made on behalf of 
its human owner, and in terms of his rights. The usual argu- 
ments for the capital owner's right to receive interest are, that 
to the owner of a productive thing belong its fruits, and that 
interest is a reward for the abstinence practised in accumulat- 
ing capital. 

The axiom, res fructificat domino (" property fructifies to its 
owner"), is by no means a self-evident moral proposition. 
Originally it was a statement of legal rather than ethical rela- 



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56 THE EMPLOYEJtS OBLIGATION. [April, 

tions— of what was customary rather than of what ought to be. 
It has some moral validity, to be sure, but not as much as it 
is assumed to have by those who substitute the solemn and 
dogmatic utterance of handy formulas for the more laborious 
processes of thinking. Against the latter class — and their num- 
ber is legion — it is a pleasure to be able to quote such a writer 
as Father Rickaby, of the Society of Jesus. Writing in The 
Month (vol. xci. p. 153), he maintains that while "natural 
property " fructifies to its owner, " artificial property," that is, 
capital, does not thus fructify when the owner is not the sole 
cause of the fruit or product. When a man so directs the use 
of his capital that, after paying a living wage to all the laborers 
employed on it, and taking a fair wage of management for 
himself, a surplus remains, he is morally bound, says Father 
Rickaby, to administer that surplus for the benefit of his em- 
ployees, as well as of himself. Now, if the employer has not 
an exclusive and unconditional right to the earnings of capital 
which remain after the laborers have received a living wage, it 
is evident that [his claim to interest before such payment is 
made rests upon a very insecure moral foundation. 

Concerning the second title to interest, it must be noted, 
in the first place, that the accumulation of a great part of the 
capital now in existence has not cost its owners any f^l pain 
of abstinence. Some of it has been inherited, and some of it 
saved out of incomes that were in excess of ^1 the existing 
wants of their receivers. Those who have inherited the wealth 
that they now use as capital practised no self-denial in acquir- 
ing it, though some of them, namely, the beneficiaries of small 
legacies, undoubtedly did so when they converted it into Capi- 
tal, instead of consuming it immediately. On the other hand, 
the man with a very large income, say, half a million or more 
per year, exercises no remarkable self-restraint, suffers no nota- 
ble pain of abstinence, when he devotes a goodly portion of it 
to the purposes of production. So far as this kind of saving 
is concerned, Lassalle's caustic comments on the ** abstinence 
theory" are fully justified. 

Not all capital, however, is of this character. Much of it 
represents a real sacrifice of desires that clamored for satisfac- 
tion when the saving took place. Yet there seems to be no 
good reason for maintaining that interest is required as an ade- 
quate recompense for even this kind of saving. It is, of course. 



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I903-] THE Employer's Obligation. 57 

impossible to define the exact economic equivalent of a given 
amount of saving, but I am inclined to the view that Mr. Devas 
is not far wrong when he declares that the saving which issues 
in the existence of capital '' is amply rewarded without any 
need of interest or dividends. For the workers with heads or 
hands keep the property intact, ready for the owner to assume 
whenever convenient, when he gets infirm or weak, or when his 
children have grown up and can enjoy the property with him." 
(Political Economy^ second edition, p. 507.) Savings cannot be 
hoarded, in any appreciable amounts, in the form of money. 
They can be continued in existence only when embodied in 
material goods, such as land and the artificial instruments of 
production. The part of it that is converted into capital- in- 
struments cannot be preserved for any length of time except 
through the labor of those who work with or upon the capital, 
and replace it as it wears out. And this care and conservation 
of capital would seem to be a sufficient recompense for the ab- 
stinence exercised by its owners in accumulating it;- hence, as a 
matter of justice between individual and individual, there seems 
to be no clear reason why the owner of capital should draw' 
interest He cannot claim it as the certain equivalent of labor 
performed or inconvenience suffered. It is not his by any title 
of personal desert. 

The statement is frequently made that the taking of interest 
is socially justifiable, since without it not enough capital would 
be provided for the needs of the community. Whatever may 
have been true of the past, it is doubtful whether this stimulus 
to saving is any longer necessary. Not a few economic thinkers' 
are of opinion that the practice of savinjg has been overdone! 
At any rate, to assume that if interest were abolished all classes 
would diminish their savings, is to take a very superficial view 
of the matter. The change would affedt different classes in dif- 
ferent ways. Pepsons enjoying incomes in excess of their cur- 
rent wants would continue to save through sheer necessity, and 
the desire to add to their possessions ; those who save chiefly 
to provide for future wants would have additional motives for 
continuing this course ; while only those who have already made 
provision for the future, and who save mainly to enjoy a steady 
income from investments, would be tempted to increase con- 
sumption at the expense of saving. And it seems quite proba- 
ble that whatever diminution would take place in the saving of 

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58 THE Employer's Obligation. [April, 

the third class would be offset by the increase in the savings of 
the second. (C/. Hobson; The Ecofiontics of Distribution ^ pp. 
257-265; Webb, Industrial Democracy ^ pp. 622-627; Nicholson, 
Principles of Political Economy^ i., pp. 393, 394; Marshall, Prin- 
ciples of Economics, first edition, pp. 396-399.) 

The foregoing analysis shows that the receipt of interest, 
even on capital which the owner himself manages, has neither 
the individual nor the social justification that it is frequently 
assumed to have. At the same time, the system is so firmly 
established and sanctioned by industrial usage that no man who 
contents himself with a moderate rate of interest can be justly 
accused of dishonesty or extortion, — provided that he has paid 
a living wage to every man who, under his direction, works in 
connection with his capital. 

This obligation extends likewise to the shareholders in joint- 
stock companies. Since the direction of the business rests ulti- 
mately with them, they are the real employers, an4 they can- 
not decline the responsibility of dealing justly with the company's 
employees. Each of them is bound to use what power he pos- 
sesses in the company's councils to bring about this result. He 
may not shift the responsibility upon the impersonal character 
of the corporation. Of course the responsibility in question 
rests in an especial manner upon the board of directors and 
other executive officers. They are bound to pay a living wage 
to the laborers before they distribute dividends to the stock- 
holders. 

To conclude : the employer's obligation to pay a living wage 
rests ultimately on the human dignity of the laborer. A human 
bsing is something more than an animal; he is a person, and 
as such has certain moral claims which his fellows, are bound 
to respect. To deny or to ignore this vital fact of the sacred- 
ness of personality is to destroy the basis and possibility of 
moral rights. If personality be not sacred and inviolable, not 
only oppression of the laborer, but theft, adultery, and murder 
are legitimate ; ,for the rights violated by the last three acts 
rest on precisely the same basis as the right to live decently. 
Whatever difference exists between any two of these rights is 
one of degree, not of kind. This abstract right of the laborer 
to a decent livelihood for himself and family becomes in the 
actual conditions of present society the right to a family living 
wage. The practical, average possibilities of the situation leave 



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, 1903] The Wild Flowers. 59 

him no other means to realize the right in ^question ; conse- 
quently, if the existing industrial organization is reasonable and 
legitimate, his claim to a living wage is reasonable and legiti- 
mate. Turning to the objections urged against our argument, 
we find that, as a general standard of distribution, productivity 
is impracticable, and in any case is less consonant with our 
moral ideals than the standard of effort and self-sacrifice. Some 
of the common interpretations of '' inability to pay a living 
wage " must be rejected because they subordinate the essential 
needs of the laborer to the non-essential needs of the employer. 
In other words, they violate the moral law by treating the 
laborer as a mere means to the employer's welfare. The most 
important of these interpretations, namely, the one arising out 
of the claim to take interest, is, moreover, notably weak in the 
grounds upon which it is based. Finally, the phrase *' a family 
living wage " means in terms of money not less than two dollars 
per day, or about six hundred dollars per year. (See the April, 
1902, issue of this magazine for statistics in support of this es- 
timate.) In their recent testimony before the Anthracite Coal 
Commission, Mr. John Mitchell and Dr. Peter Roberts placed 
the minimum cost of maintaining a miner and his family at six 
hundred, and five hundred and seventy-five dollars per year, 
respectively. 



THE WILD FLOWERS. 

rj^RIM ghosts of burnt-out forests, bleak and lone, 
^ Stand bare against the crimson of the sky: 
Great boulders in their stoic grandeur lie; 
Whilst, here and there, beside some, mighty stone 
A wild rose in its rarest beauty blown, 
A g^oup of daisies, and blue " maiden's eye," 
And soft white immortelles that never die, 
And ferns and thistles in confusion thrown ! 
Deserted birch-thatched cabins face the sun; 
Their owners long have vanished, one by one : 
Far in the distance lies each Indian grave 
Where the blue waters of the Huron wave. 
They were the wild flowVs flung with careless art. 
The strange wild children of the forest's heart. 



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Upper Works of a 10,000,000 cubic foot Gas Welu West Virginia. 



THE IDEAL FUEL-NATURAL GAS. 

I 

BY J. TRACEY MURPHY. 




HAT does the ; average citizen know about natu- 
ral gas ? Little, probably. Still, it is one of 
the great sojirces of light, heat, and power in 
this country.^ Mr. F. H. Oliphant, the govern- 
ment geologist, calls it the ideal fuel, while the 
majority of Americans probably thought that anthracite coal 
was the fuel beyond compare. The value of the natural gas 
used in the United States last year was probably more than 
half that of the petroleum,' yet with what reverence we think 
of the Standard Oil Company and its famous mercantile com- 
modity, and how indifferently we pass over the odd allusion 
we see made to natural gas. 

Think what it would hiean if we had natural gas in New 
York. It would light and heat our houses. There would be 
no defective flues. It would cook for us without smoke or 



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I903-] The Ideal Fuel — Natural Gas. 6i 

cinders or smell. Coal cellars might be turned to a new use; 
the coal-box, which the ingenuity of man endeavors in vain to 
render artistic, would go for ever. Factories would bum the 
ideal fuel and the soft-coal nuisance would be unknown either 
as an actuality or a menace. 

A novel experience it would be to have gas derricks and 
screaming gas wells in our neighborhood. When a gas well 
" comes in/* it is with boom like to a cannon. Then it roars 
with a terrific shrill, metallic sound that is deafening in the 
immediate neighborhood. Drillers stuff their ears with tow 
when the drilling bit strikes the "pay sand," the friable rock 
under which the gas is found. Those who have not taken this 
precaution and on >vhose tympanum • the shriek of the out- 
pouring gas strikes for the first time often lose . their Jiearing 
for a week or more. The well after being ".brought in " 
" blows " for some ten or twelve htrurfe while the casing tubing 
and cap are being adjusted to control it; and for milcst ini every 
direction the community learns — from this terrific siren blasts— 
that a new source of riches has been tapped in the earth's womb. 

The advantage of natural gas for manufacturing, purposes 
may be judged from the fact that'Plttsbui"g, the great steel and 
iron manufacturing city of the Unitfed States, consumes about 
half a billion cubic feet of natural gas every twenty- four hours. 
The Carnegie plants alone consume nearly joo,qo6,ooo cubic 
feet a day. For domestic purposes natural gas is [furnished to 
the consumer at about one-quarter the cost of coal gas. In 
heating power it has an advantage of thirty per cent, over the 
latter, and when burned under an incandescent mantle it' fur- 
nishes what is claimed to be the most economical and most 
desirable of all lights. How big the field is in this particular 
direction is seen in the fact that' the Standard Oil Company is 
at present spending millions of dollars on the laying of pipe 
lines to carry natural gas to Toledo, Cleveland, and other large 
cities from the^ wells in Ohio and West Virginia, hundreds of 
miles distant. 

Professor F. H. Oliphant, the geologist who compiles the 
United States Government Statistics on Natural Gas and Pe- 
troleum, says : 

" No other fuel, natural or artificial, has the value and con- 
venience of natural gas. All other fuels require a large amount 
of labor to fit them for combustion, and most of them must be 



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62 THE Ideal Fuel— Natural Gas. [April, 

converted into gaseous form before they can be consumed. 
Natural gas, however, has reached that form, and is in condi- 
tion to take to itself the amount of oxygen necessary for com- 
bustion. The great natural reservoirs require only to be pierced 
by the drill when the gas may be brought to the surface, 
where it is at once ready to be used as fuel or to become a 
direct source of power in the gas-engine. No preparation is 
necessary for its combustion and no residue is left 

" It is easily distributed in pipes to points of consumption 
many miles distant, and no known method for the distribution 
of power equals in economy that of the transportation of a 
gaseous fuel in pipes. 

"The great natural reservoirs of this ideal fuel, so far as 
known, are found on the north-western flank of the Appa- 
lachian mountains, extending from northern- central New York 
to central Tennessee, and on the summit of the great Cincin- 
nati arch in north-western Ohio and northern Indiana. It is 
more or less associated with the pools of petroleum found 
within these areas. These two fields furnish about ninety- 
seven per cent, of all the natural gas produced in the United 
States. Outside of these fields there are smaller fields of natu- 
ral gas in Kansas, Colorado, California, Illinois, Missouri, Texas, 
and South Dakota." 

Natural gas is combustible gas formed naturally in the earth. 
It is sometimes found issuing through crevices, but is generally 
obtained by boring. Natural gas has long been used in wes- 
tern China and elsewhere. It was first utilized in New York in 
182 1, and began, about 1874, to be of importance commercially, 
especially in the vicinity of Pittsburg. 

The area over which natural gas and petroleum are ob- 
tained in quantity and the conditions of their occurrence are in 
most respects essentially the same, but the principal source of 
the gas in Ohio and Indiana is a formation lower down in the 
geological series than that furnishing it in Pennsylvania. In 
the former States the gas comes from the Trenton limestone, a 
group belonging to the Lower Silurian; in the latter, from the 
Devonian. The natural gas burned at Pittsburg contains about 
sixty- seven per cent, of marsh gas, twenty- two per cent, of 
hydrogen, five per cent, of an ethylene compound, three per 
cent of nitrogen, together with a small percentage of carbonic 
acid, carbonic oxid, olefiant gas, and oxygen rock-gas. 



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I903] 



THE IDEAL FUEL— NATURAL GAS. 



63 




The Thick Pall of Smoke caused bt Use of Soft Coal. 

A correlation between natural gas and petroleum is univer- 
sally admitted, but there is a strange conflict of scientific opin- 
ion as to the origin of both of them. Without entering into 
the arguments that are variously brought forward to prove that 
natural gas and petroleum are an animal, vegetal, or mineral 
product, it may here be stated that the bulk of scientific opin- 
ion favors the theory of animal origin, and that the following 
conclusions are in this connection fairly generally accepted : 

1. Saurians, fishes, cuttlefishes, coralloid animals, etc., espe- 
cially have authentically contributed to the formation of petro- 
leum, though soft animals without solid frame, of which no 
authentic determrnable remains are left behind, may also have 
co-operated. While coal has been formed by the transforma- 
tion of vegetable substances, petroleum and the allied bitumens 
originated from animal substances. 

2. The nature of the conditions under which petroleum could 
be formed - from animal remains is unknown. 

3. Petroleum has been formed in all ages of the earth's 



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64 THE IDEAL FUEL— NATURAL GAS. [April, 

history of which animal remains exist. The archean strata are 
free from petroleum. 

4. Petroleum could accumulate and be preserved in the 
original deposit only, if during its formation it was shut off 
from escape. 

5. The formation of petroleum has been effected without the 
co-operation of an uncommonly high temperature ; and 

6. It has taken place under high pressure, the influence of 
which on the chemical process is not known. 

7. The deposits of petroleum are partially original (primary) 
and partially secondary. The latter may be or were connected 
with the former. 

So much specifically for petroleum. For natural gas the 
same materials and similar processes are presupposed. The 
accumulation of both also took place in the same spaces, 
' frequently in such a manner that the gas occupied the higher 
and the oil the lower sections of the same rock stratum. No 
process bSnifg' known by which petroleum can be formed from 
^'•» natural gas while the separation of the latter from the former — 
even at the ordinary temperature — is a well-known fact, it is 
very probable that petroleum is the primary and gas the second- 
ary product. 

The recognition of the commercial value of natural gas 
quigkly followed that of petroleum. When the use of petroleum 
was limited, very primary methods for obtaining it were in 
vogue. At first the oil collecting on the surface of the water 
was skimmed off and purified by heating and straining. Later 
on, shallow pits were dug in which the oil issuing from the 
lower rock strata collected and was kept for use. 

The Namu Indians and the Persians of the Caucasus were 

in the habit of soaking up the oil with cloths, dipping it out 

' with earthen pots. With the increasing consumption of the oil, 

the shallow pits were gradually changed to wells (30 to 100 feet 

deep), from which the oil was raised by hand or animal power. 

The oldest traces of obtaining oil by mining are found in 
Japan, where from a very remote period wells have been dug 
.and tunnels have been run into hillsides for oil. 

In the United States several different methods for obtaining 
oil were employed before wells were drilled. In the Ohio oil 
districts shafts were found, apparently made by the French. 
They were probably unsatisfactory in results. 



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1903.] THE Ideal Fuel— Natural Gas. 65 

Artesian wells formed the transition to the present deep 
borings. Although not employed for petroleum and gas alone, 
their use for these purposes is as old as the primary methods 
previously mentioned. In China the Jesuit missionaries found 
artesian wells in full operation. These wells were drilled for 
brine and natural gas, the latter being frequently accompanied 
by petroleum. Abb^ Hue, in his work on China, describing the 
methods of drilling wells, says: "The wells are usually from 
1,500 to 1,800 feet deep and only 5 or 6 inches in diameter." 
A heavy rammer, weighing 300 or 400 lbs., was used, worked 
by a lever and operated by two men. " When the rock is good 
the work advances at the rate of two feet in twenty-four hours, 
so that about three years are required to dig a well." 

In the United States the first artesian well was drilled in 
1809 and furnished, besides a very large volume of gas, a great 
quantity of oil. 

The success which attended the drilling of artesian wells 
gave, indirectly, rise to the drill. In the summer of 1858 
Colonel E. L. Drake attempted to sink a shaft for oil on 
property of the Seneca Oil Company. Being thwarted by water 
and quicksands, he hit upon the expedient of driving an iron 
pipe from the surface to the solid rock, when after four months 
he was rewarded by "bringing in" the first drilled oil well in 
history, and making way for the immediate tremendous develop- 
ment of the oil business. 

At the present time three drilling systems are used ifi 
boring for natural gas or oil. They are the rotatory, the per- 
cussive, and the free-fall system. For the rotatory method the 
drilling instrument is a screw auger, a common round earth 
auger, or else a diamond or steel crown drill, to which a con- 
tinuous supply of water is forced down to keep the crown cool, 
and which carries off the debris formed by the erosion of thfe 
strata by the crown. 

The ordinary percussive drill is in the form of a chisel, and 
is used at the end of an iron or wooden rod. In its simple 
form it is adaptable only for slight depths. 

The free-fall drill is the style in common use, and is suit- 
able for all kinds of drilling. It is swung upward and down- 
ward by a walking-beam. 

For natural gas, as for petroleum, there is no such thing as 
positive surface indications of the precious fluid underneath. 

VOL. LXXVII.— 5 ^ , 

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66 THE IDEAL FUEL— -NATURAL GAS. [April, 

The prospector must take his chances and drill He may strike 
a " dry hole " or he may get oil or gas, or both ; again, the 
quantity of gas or oil that he strikes may mean a fortune, or 
it may not be sufficient to pay the expense of drilling the well. 
This expense is from $4,000 to $10,000. Nowadays the same 
individual or company is often simultaneously an oil operator 
and a gas operator, and whichever of the two is found at the 
'bottom of the well is welcome. In other cases, an oil operator 
will conclude agreements with a gas operator so that when, as 
the result of drilling by either of them, oil is found, the oil 
operator takes over the well and pays the expenses of drilling, 
and when gas is struck the gas operator does similarly. 

The first step of the gas or oil miner when he has chosen 
the spot where he desires to sink a well, and when he has 
made the necessary preliminary arrangements by purchase, lease 
or royalty, is* to make his contracts for what is termed the 
" carpenter's rig." This comprises all the woodwork over the 
mouth of the well, affording shelter for the workmen and the 
•appliances necessary to the convenient handling of the well- 
driller's tools. The chief feature of the rig is the derrick. 
This is a tall pyramidal wooden frame, 60 to 85 feet high and 
12 to 15 feet square at the base. 

' When the rig is built and the boiler and engine set up, a 
pipe eight or more inches in diameter is driven through the 
soft upper formation. This pipe keeps the earth from caving 
in and the water from seeping in literally. The pipe is driven 
in exactly as piles are driven. When the first solid rock has 
been reached the drilling proper begins. This is done with a 
"string of tools." The string consists of the centre bit, the 
auger stem, the jars, and the sinker bar. These tools hang in 
the order named, the centre bit being the lowest. This is a 
•bar of iron four or five feet long with a sharp steel cutting 
edge on the lower end. The bit is screwed into the auger 
stem, a round bar two to four feet in length. Then come the 
jars, which are two pieces of metal so constructed that a sud- 
den jar will be imparted to the tools at every upward and 
downward motion as the drilling progresses, serving to loosen 
the centre bit if it should become wedged in the hard rock. 
The sinker bar is fourteen or fifteen feet long and used simply 
to give additional weight to the other tools. The string of 
tools is some sixty feet long and weighs about a ton. The 



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1903] 



The Ideal fuel— Natural Gas. 



67 




Relative Absence of Smoke when Natural Gas is Used. 

cable holding the string of tools runs up over a pulley at the 
top of the derrick and down to the large wheel at its foot. 
Upon this wheel it can be coiled to draw the tools out of the 
well whenever it is found necessary to sharpen or replace the 
bit or clean the bore of the pulverized rock at the bottom. 
This cable is fastened at the end of the walking-beam already 
mentioned. By the upward and downward swing of this walk- 
ing-beam, amounting to two feet or more, the tools are lifted 
and dropped at the bottom of the well. The connecting link 
between the walking-beam and the cable is the temper-screw, 
which lowers the tools a little at every stroke. The debris re- 
sulting from the drilling operation is held in suspension at the 
bottom of the well, water being poured in for the purpose. 
When a considerable quantity of broken rock has accumulated, 
the tools are withdrawn and a "sand pump" inserted which re- 
moves the liquid mud and sand from the well. 

As drilling progresses the well is cased or lined with tubes 
of gradually diminishing diameter to keep out water from the 
boring and prevent the well being ultimately "drowned out." 



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68 THE IDEAL FUEL— NATURAL GAS. [April, 

When the piping of gas was shown to be practicable, its 
great value for industrial purposes was immediately recognized 
and the demand for it in the Pennsylvania areas was instant 
and enormous. The first gas piped any considerable distance 
was from the Harvey well, in Butler County, Pa. In 1875, 
seventeen miles of six-inch pipe were laid from it to the mill of 
Spang, Chalfant & Co. at Eva, near Pittsburg. The gas was turned 
into the pipe in October, 1875, and traversed the 17 miles in 20 
minutes, the pressure at the wells observed being 119 pounds. 

The first use of gas in glass-making was at the Rochester 
Tumbler Works at Rochester, Pa. In 1883, J. B. Ford, at the 
Pittsburg Plate Glass Works at Creighton, Pa., succeeded in 
securing a supply of gas for his glass-works, since which time 
these works have been run entirely by natural gas. 

It was not until 1883, with the piping of the gas of the 
Murraysville district to Pittsburg and the striking of gas in the 
Wdstinghouse well, at Homewood, Pittsburg, that natural gas 
began to be extensively used as fuel. Prior to this time its 
use had been exceptional and at isolated works, but with the 
piping of this gas and the striking of the Westinghouse well, 
the extension of its use became instant and well-nigh universal 
for manufacturing purposes in the neighborhood of Pittsburg. 

An automatic regulator, invented in 1883 by George West- 
inghouse, Jr., had also an important influence on the extensive 
use of natural gas, as previously the great and often irregular 
pressure in the well and in the mains had rendered its em- 
ployment difficult. 

Mr. Oliphant, the famous oil and gas expert, writes in his 
government report for 1901 : "As a source of heat natural 
gas is unrivalled in the household, as it is also in the work- 
shop in the generation of steam and in varied metallurgical 
operations ; and as a source of light, even in its crude state, it 
will in many cases give a very fair illumination, which is much 
improved by the use of an argand burner and chimney. How- 
ever, it remained for the Welsbach mantle, now in such uni- 
versal use throughout the area supplied by natural gas, to pro- 
duct from natural gas the most perfect and economical of lights. 

" As a source of power it stands at the head of the list for 
economy, both as to expense of installation and expense of 
operation. The natural- gas engine is used most extensively in 
the petroleum fields for pumping the petroleum to the surface 



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1903.] The Ideal Fuel— Natural Gas. 69 

in the thousands of small producing wells. In very many in- 
stances the flow of natural gas from the upper strata, above the 
petroleum-producing rock in the well, is sufficient to supply a 
gas-engine to pump a cluster of from six to thirty wells. 

" It has been supplying the power for a very large number 
of factories and operations in the gas belt; and lately it has 
been extensively applied in creating the power by which the 
natural gas itself is compressed from a low to a high pressure 
when the original pressure has failed and the pipes are insuffi- 
cient to deliver the necessary quantity of gas at the well pres- 
sure. A number of these compressors work up very close to 
1,000 horse-power, with an economy that enables 8 to 10 cubic 
feet of natural gas to develop a horse-power for an hour, a sav- 
ing of from 40 to 50 per cent, over high-duty steam-engines." 

The appliances for consuming the gas have been greatly 
improved since the introduction of the meter. The pipe- line 
companies have also greatly improved their methods, in secur- 
ing better joints, in shutting off wells that were not needed to 
keep up the pressure in the mains, and in manipulating the 
wells themselves. 

The value of the natural gas consumed in the United States 
in 1901 was $27,067,500, which, at 15 cents per 1,000 cubic 
feet, is equivalent to 180,450,000,000 cubic feet. If it were pos- 
sible to store this gas in a cube, the density throughout being 
equal, its sides would be 5,530 feet in length, or 250 feet 
greater than the sides of a cubic mile. If 20,000 cubic feet of 
natural gas be taken as equal to one ton of coal, 8,458,600 
tons of coal, valued at $3.20 per ton, would be required to 
yield the sum of money for which the natural gas sold.' 

It may also be interesting to note that the value of the 
69,389,194 barrels of petroleum produced in the United States 
during 1901 was $66,417,335, and that the value of the 
natural gas amounted to 40.7 per cent, of the value of the 
petroleum for the same year, and that, further, when the fuel 
value of the coal and wood displaced by natural gas in 1901 — 
which amounts to $32,445,156 — is considered, this estimated 
value of natural gas is nearly 49 per cent, of the entire value 
of the crude petroleum produced in the same year. 

There were 11,297 wells producing natural gas at the close 
of 1901, of which number 74 were not turned into the gas 
mains, and 2,088 producing wells were drilled in the same year ; 



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70 



The Ideal Fuel— -Natural Gas. 



[April, 




The Duquesne Furnace, Pittsburg, Pa. 

there were 453 dry holes or non- producers, and 1,084 were 
abandoned. In 1900 there were 10,293 producing wells, of 
which number 24 were shut in; 1,759 wells were drilled in the 
same year; 359 were dry holes, and 991 were abandoned. 
There were very nearly 800 miles of pipe laid during 1901, 
the mains varying from 2 inches up to 20 inches. This 
brought the total up to 21,848 miles of natural-gas mains of 
from 2 inches to 36 inches diameter in use at the close of 1901. 

It is to be noted, however, that as the statistics are com- 
piled only on the reports sent by producers to the Government 
Geological Survey, and as these reports are not complete re- 
turns, the figures here given are an understatement as to the 
quantity and value of the annual production. 

It is estimated that fully 1,000,000 domestic fires are sup- 
plied by natural gas, and that 4,000,000 people are furnished 
with this ideal fuel and light to gladden their homes. 

There was a considerable increase in the value of the natural 
gas consumed in Pennsylvania, a slight increase in Ohio, and a 
large increase in West Virginia and Kansas. 



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1903] 



The Ideal Fuel — Natural Gas. 



71 



The following is a table of government statistics of natural 
gas in the United States in 1 901, as reported by 1,5 45 persons, 
firms, and corporations : 



-.0 

w O 

^' o 



o ^ 



H n ?^ ?«^ 2: ^ o 5* 2J 



(A 



»* W O 



s 



i» 









«4 ^ b ^ VO 



T* JT^ "T* i/i ' 



1-4 o>» 
M M NO wn •^'' vn M 

M 4^ 4^ M ■-• OOVJ OOVO 
Ul I ^ VO OOLO 10 M ON O Q 9^ ■-* 
■-• O>iO>»O000vjN^ OONO VO M 



=;J5 J? 



8 I 1 1 1 ! 1 1 1 I «- = ^ 


I3 




1 1 1 1 1 U 1 1 1 - 1 1 


^ C/) 


1 

3 



1-* 
NO 


M 1 1 1 I 1 I ►..^.rrHg' 




ST 

tn 

C 

•a 

13 


^ WVO ^wn ! 3 S-SS- 
« 1 1 1 OOVO vj>OM0N«O00«'J" '-^ 


1 



M wn M v^ ■-« V] 

*•* 0\4^ VI 'oo'^ T) NO 

•M 1-4 to \0 OnCo 10 OOUn \0 4^ 1^ 

10 10 M ON^ 04 MV^t^ MVO v^Co 

00*0 ^ 1)0 'cs^^ Vn 4^ ^b Oi To 0» 'on 

I00QQ^^^OjmO40vO»0>-i 
v«OOOOnOv«o OOCO un O 00 



10 

00 

00 


. "^ 4^ "0 M OOVO 

|OMV^v]pvpvp^-^00 pNf^ 

wn 10 M '-^ vO OnOj On VI OnvO *^ 
Co vj VI 00 ON On 1^ ONVn wn vn 10 Cf\ 




- n 

II 





-w- 



8^ 



^ K> 4^ ON^ 

«-• ON^bslo " '^ " 
_ OOwn \0 " 

oj 'oo'ooTj *^ 

10 O 10 wn 
00 O ^^ ^^ 



»0 On OOwn \0 4^ •-« 

-. ;^\o 



M vj 
vj 00 
ONV-n 



0\ On •- vO vj 
O Onvj 10 vn 
M O U> wn OC 



NO 
NO 

OOVO NO On 



fttrq y O -J 

£/! O ' 



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10 



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«-• 10 NO On^ >• on 00 
10 O NO oi « A OnnO 



M M M vyi O t^ ON^'v vn vn 



Co 00 00 Q 



00 O ' 



) Q4^CO\OCOUi^ O 
I ONIOUn^ OnOOQvj 
i4^OnOMO-^»0O 



°" 2 



H 
OS 



^3* P 1^ 






With regard to the chief States producing natural gas it 
may be noted that West Virginia is the hope of the future for 



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72 The Ideal Fuel— Natural Gas. [April, 

the continued supply of gas fuel to Pennsylvania and Ohio. 
Its rock-bound reservoirs lie deeply buried in the folds of 
strata over many square miles that have recently been proved, 
by wells of remarkable volume and pressure, to contain great 
reservoirs of this most precious fuel. 

During the last year Lewis, Harrison, Marion, Monongalia, 
and Wetzel counties have produced some remarkable wells from 
the Gordon sand, the Stray sand, the Fifth, and the Elizabeth 
or Bayard sands, which are from 2,7CX) to 3,2CX) feet in depth, 
and have a volume of from 10,000,000 to 15,000,000 cubic feet 
in twenty-four hours, and a rock pressure of from 1,000 to 
1,300 pounds per square inch. The other counties that have 
more or less natural gas are Tyler, Ritchie, Doddridge, Mar- 
shall, Wood, Wirt, Roane, Calhoun, Boone, Mingo, Kanawha, 
Logan, and Gilmer. 

A number of the largest natural-gas companies in western 
Pennsylvania get more or less of their supply from West Vir- 
ginia, and as there are several of them extending their lines 
farther south, as well as enlarging them, the indications are 
that the years to come will see very large quantities of natural 
gas supplied by this State to Pennsylvania and Ohio. There is 
more natural gas consumed uncredited in this State in the 
development of the petroleum than in any other. 

One of the great centres of gas production in Ohio is the 
Sugar Grove Field, 150 miles to the south-west. A number of 
additional towns were supplied from this field during the last 
two years, and this has caused a great reduction in its pres- 
sure, which has declined from 750 pounds to the square inch 
until the average pressure was less than 160 pounds at the 
close of 1 90 1, although there was an average pressure of 350 
pounds at the close of 1900. This shows the immense drain on 
this pool, which must have supplied over $1,500,000 of the 
total $2,147,215 prpduced during the year 1901. There was a 
new pool of natural gas developed in Morgan Township, Knox 
County, from the same horizon as that found in the Sugar 
Grove field. 

Natural gas is found over a very large area in the western 
portion of New York in a number of different sands and lime- 
stones. The counties of New York State producing natural gas 
are Allegany, Cattaraugus, Erie, Livingston, Niagara, Onondaga, 
Ontario, Oswego, Seneca, and Steuben. The value of the 



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1903] 



The Ideal Fuel — Natural Gas. 



n 



natural gas produced in 1901 was $293,232, being a considera- 
ble decrease as compared with the year previous, while the value 
of the amount consumed was $1,694,925, showing that only 
about 18 per cent, is produced in the State. The number of 
wells producing at the close of 1901 was 580, as compared 
with 535 at the close of 1900. There were 1,096 miles of 
natural-gas mains from two inches and over in use in New York 
State at the close of 1901. 

No other State increased as largely in the production of 
natural gas as Kansas during 1901, and south-eastern Kansas 
seems awakening to the fact that it has buried under its fertile, 
gently undulating surface reservoirs of the most valuable fuel, 
and is capable of furnishing large quantities to private con- 
sumers and manufacturers at low prices. 

The chief natural-gas district in Canada is in the province 
of Ontario. The Welland County field in Ontario, near Buffalo, 
continues to furnish gas to Buffalo, N. Y. The Essex County 
field formerly, furnished a large amount of natural gas to 
Detroit, Mich. There is some natural gas found in the oil 
region between Petrolia and Sarnia, which is mostly used in 
gas-engines that are pumping oil wells. 

The value of natural gas piped from Canada to the United 
States and consumed in the cities of Detroit and Buffalo dur- 
ing the year 1901 amounted to $361,719, as compared with 
$672,362 in the year 1900, a decrease of $310,643. The sup- 
ply was shut off from Detroit, Mich., the latter part of August, 
1 90 1, by order of the Canadian government, which accounts in 
part for the large falling off in the amount exported into the 
United States during 1901. 




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74 Cardinal Barnabo. [April, 




CARDINAL BARNABO. 

A REMINISCENCE. 
BY R. H., D.D. 

PROUT the middle of the century just passed (from 
1855 [to 1 861), as an alumnus of the college, I 
lived under the same roof and came into occa- 
sional contact with this great man, the chief in 
those days of the Sacred Congregation of Propa- 
ganda. In reviving his memory I write of him only as he was 
known to us students, with whom he often mingled familiarly. 
I know nothing and state nothing of his official career except 
that it was conducted amid the travail of great issues for religion 
in Rome and abroad, and was marked by signal skilfulness and 
success. 

Indeed, it may be truthfully averred that there was not 
one, in the long line of cardinal prefects of Propaganda, all 
equally eminent in station and title, more eminent in character 
and powerful in action than Cardinal Barnabo. 

But, little knew, little recked we, students of that day, of 
the solemn deliberations and decisions of the Consistorial Court 
holding its sessions over the way on its side of the quadrangle 
facing our class-rooms. Cardinal Barnabo was to us the 
Students' Cardinal. In this character alone he was known and 
beloved by us all. As such he is well remembered still by the 
small remnant of living alumni who once enjoyed his gracious 
converse. 

He would throw off at intervals, and for moments all too 
brief, the cares of his high office and come across to mingle 
with us in chapel, in refectory, at recreation. In old Rome he 
would appear among us to relieve our routine and lighten 
our labors. In old Tusculum, during our long, bright autumn 
holidays, he would often come suddenly upon us, enlivening 
the whole scene with his presence and lavishing on us treasures 
of wit, eloquence, poetry, and practical wisdom. He was a man 
of many and great parts, only revealed in those familiar social 
gatherings when the stern duties of office were laid aside for a 



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1903.] Cardinal Barnabo. 75 

passing moment. In all he did or said he was at all times 
simple and grand, exalted and lowly. This is what I meant 
when calling him the Students' Cardinal, and the term will be 
made more clear presently when I come to particulars of his 
intercourse with the college. 

But here I deem it the place to note the relation of the 
College of Propaganda, a complete establishment in itself, with 
the Sacred Congregation of Propaganda, of which it is a sub. 
ject appendage. , 

It is not apparent that the foundation of a foreign mission- 
ary college in connection with the Sacred Congregation was 
contemplated in the original design of the said congrega- 
tion. Indeed, the two establishments were instituted at dif- 
erent periods by different Pontiffs. The Sacred Congregation 
of Cardinals de propaganda fide was established by Gregory 
XV. (1622). The College of Propaganda was founded by 
Urban VIII. (1644), and its management was entrusted by him 
to the aforesaid congregation. Hence the college is called Col- 
legium Urbanum and the students sign themselves A. C. U. — 
/. ^., Alumnus Collegii Urbani, So the college grew rapidly by 
the side and into the heart of the congregation. But its direct 
management is in the hands of a rector and his various assis- 
tants. Its professors are ecclesiastics from the city, of noted 
scholarship in the various branches they teach from lowest 
grammar to highest dogma. They do not reside in the col- 
lege. They have nothing to do with its management. They 
come daily at their appointed hours, give their lessons or 
lectures, and then retire to their homes. Even the confessors 
are non-resident, and have no concern 'whatever with the ex- 
ternal discipline of the house. These are the cream of the 
spiritual directors and devout men of the city. They hear and 
counsel their student penitents, and go their way till next week, 
or some intervening great festival demand their presence again. 
There is, however, a resident padre spirituale^ whose duty it is 
to preach a short sermon to the whole college every Sunday 
and give religious instruction to the students in grammar or the 
humanities. Some of them are very young. He may also be 
chosen by any individual student as confessor, and in that and 
other spiritual respects he is a most useful personage as a resi- 
dent in the college. But he has nothing whatever to say in 
the matter of order or discipline. There the rector is absolute 



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76 Cardinal Barnabo. [April, 

and supreme, subject only to the cardinal or his secretary, who 
never interfere except in some rare instance to support the 
rector's authority. 

All this may appear discursive, but it is not so. I wish to 
make it plain how the Cardinal Prefect may, and usually does, 
hold himself entirely aloof from the ordinary life of the students, 
and, on the other hand, how he may cultivate, if so disposed, 
a certain intimacy with them, and appear among them oc- 
casionally. His position entitles him to take upon himself the 
functions of the rector, the spiritual father, the professor, acting 
the part of one or other, or all, even though only for a brief 
moment. This the regular Cardinal Prefect rarely or ever docs. 
But Cardinal Barnabo often did so, to the immense enjoyment 
and profit of the whole college. This is why I have called him 
the Students' Cardinal. I have, of course, no experience of 
those who preceded or succeeded him. But I have known, as 
a visitor to Rome in after days, every one of the latter and have 
held converse with them — Cardinals Franchi, Simeoni, and Ledo- 
chowski — and I know from students of their time that they 
confined themselves wholly to the work of the Sacred Congre- 
gation and rarely appeared on the college side of the quad- 
rangle. 

And now, to come to particulars of Cardinal Barnabo's in- • 
tercourse with the * college, in recounting which I shall be ex- 
cused, I hope, if the above paltry pronoun obtrude itself oc- 
casionally. These are reminiscences, not oral or written tradi- 
tion. Memories can neither be recalled nor recorded without 
the interference of the inevitable ego. 

With these, perhaps unnecessary, remarks I proceed to give 
my impressions of the great cardinal and relate the incidents 
connected with him that came under my notice. 

I first met Monsignor Barnabo, as he then was, in the 
private sitting-room of his predecessor. Cardinal Franzoni. This 
was on the bright morning of my first arrival in Rome in early 
September, 1855. I had already gone straight from the stage- 
coach station (there were no railways then in the Papal States, 
scarce any in all Italy) to St. Peter's and had heard Mass 
there in the Capella Borghese. On entering Propaganda I 
found the college deserted. Not a sound, not a footfall but 
my own, awaked the echoes in those sombre corridors. All 
the students, superiors, servants, were away in Frascati for the 



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1903.] Cardinal Barnabo, 77 

summer holidays, not to return till October. For about two 
hours I roamed those empty halls. 

At length a person appeared whom I took for a sort of 
under-sacristan. His soutane, quite plain in cut, was glossy 
and greenish with age and use. There was no vestige of dig- 
nity or authority about him. How well I knew and admired 
him later on as Don Domenico Veglia, the learned, kindly, 
wise, and witty Vice- Rector of Propaganda ! Where is the 
student of those days, among the few now living, who, seeing 
these lines, will not bare and bow the head to his memory 
and breathe a prayer for his eternal rest ? Through devious 
ways he led me up the grand staircase through the silent 
halls, up another mean and narrow stair leading, as I after- 
wards knew too well, to the infirmary. Opening a side door 
at the top we found ourselves in a narrow passage, then sud- 
denly in the great consistory room, then in the ante- room, and 
finally in the cardinal's private sitting-room or study. There 
Don Veglia, retiring, left me. It wai a small room but lofty. 
At the head of an oblong table in its centre sat his Eminence 
Cardinal Franzoni. At each of the sides was an ecclesiastic — 
under secretaries or minutarets. At the other end, facing the 
cardinal, sat a distinguished-looking priest in plain, black cas- 
sock, without a vestige of the purple. His torso was massive, 
and the head even larger proportionately. As he sat, one 
would take him for a tall man when on his feet, but he really 
was somewhat under the middle height. His brow was broad 
and high beyond the common, the nose long, thin, and slightly 
aquiline, the mouth wide, compressed, and firm, the eyes light 
gray and rather small, hair light brown turning gray, complexion 
of a healthy pallid hue. This man, then Monsignor Secretary, 
became in two months from that date Cardinal 6arnab6, Prefect 
of the Sacred Congregation of Propaganda. 

Cardinal Franzoni received my letters and put me a few 
questions, not searching nor embarrassing. He was a spare, 
feeble-looking man nearing, probably, his seventieth year. He 
had finely chiselled, patrician features, and looked the saint he 
was and all Rome held him to be. Neither in the spirit nor 
the flesh did he show kindred with this earth. He was tender 
and paternal to me, and dismissed me soon, saying, with a 
subtle smile, " Now you know French well enough ; go, learn 
Italian." I never saw him again. About two months after 



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78 Cardinal Barnabo. [April, 

this interview all the other students, torches in hand, followed 
his bier in the dead of the night, amid a pelting rain storm, 
out beyond the city walls to the Campo Santo at San Lorenzo, 
where Pius IX. also lies at rest with many a saint and martyr. 
The cardinal died of low fever turning into that dread disease, 
the scourge and terror of Rome in those days, called "febbre 
perniciosa " in Italian ; in English, more forcibly, '* black 
death." 

When we returned from vacation in Frascati in October, no 
appointment of Cardinal Prefect had yet been made. This, 
however, was not permitted to interfere with the ordinary rou- 
tine of our college life. . Yet a vague sense of uneasiness, a 
strong ripple of conjecture pervaded the whole house. So much 
depended for us on the character arid the personal connections 
of the new Cardinal Prefect. He himself might be a kind of 
hidden Divinity to us, confined to his consistorial shrine and 
leaving the college to plod its way under the care of the Rec- 
tor. But he would assuredly call around him new assistants, 
trusted and tried servants in his former office and household. 
Among those would be a new secretary who would be ex- officio 
moderator of our studies and president of the professorial staff. 
Almost as certainly there would be a new Cardinal Economo, 
whose influence would reach the refectory and govern the sup- 
ply system — a matter of supreme interest to all students in all 
colleges under the sun. There was but one sentiment through- 
out Propaganda as to the election of the new Cardinal Prefect. 
Monsignor Barnabo was the man we all wanted, from rector 
and professor down to cook and scullery man. But the elec- 
tion to this office, though consultatively in the hands of the 
members of the Sacred Congregation, is really in the hands of 
the Pope alone. It was not usual to nominate him from the 
body of the Cardinals of the Sacred Congregation. It was 
unheard of to uplift the monsignor secretary, whose sole eccle- 
siastical titles, in the case of Barnabo, were those of mon- 
signor, an honorary title at best, and Canon of St. John in 
Lateran (a high rank but conveying no official status outside 
that church), at one bound to the dignity of Cardinal Prefect 
of Propaganda. The position of secretary of Propaganda is, 
indeed, what is called a " cardinalitial post," and sooner or 
later leads to the red biretta. But it does not, even then, in- 



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1903.] Cardinal Barnabo. 79 

volve membership, much less prefecture, of this Sacred Congrega- 
tion. Usually the secretary, having become cardinal, is transferred 
to some other Congregation of Cardinals. Besides, the secre- 
tary of Propaganda is almost always either an archbishop or a 
bishop. The cardinal prefects have always before, without ex- 
ception I believe, held episcopal rank. This rank Monsignor 
Barnabo did not possess when secretary, and could never be 
induced to accept after he became Cardinal Prefect. He re- 
mained always a simple priest in orders and cardinal priest of 
the title of Santa Susanna. Not even Pius IX., his beloved 
master, intimate friend, and fellow- townsman (they were both 
Umbrians from about Sinigaglia and true types of the Roniag- 
nuolo), could induce him to change his resolve in this matter. 

So his chances seemed slight. But all at once the college 
was electrified with joy when his appointment as Prefect was 
made and proclaimed. 

We had a grand fete that day. The new cardinal came to 
dine with us. Jacovacci, our maestro di capella^ a composer 
whose name would be immortal only that his modesty was im- 
measurable, had a grand hymn ready for the occasion. The 
professor of rhetoric, who was a poet, composed the words. 
Our select choir tried to sing it, but the body of the students 
struck in, spoiled its harmony and scattered its beauties to the 
winds. 

After this came the cardinal's reception to the ilite of 
Rome in the grand rooms connected with the consistorial hall. 
We were present at this too in turns of cameratas — just a walk 
through to see the brilliant display and no more. The cardinal 
was in undress; that is, in society dress. He wore a very 
dark brown — not black — dress- coat with large lappets trimmed 
with gold lace and with a single row of gilt buttons. A regu- 
lar eighteenth century coat it was, with its regular accompani- 
ments, silk stockings (red of course) and buckled shoes. He 
remained all the time uncovered, and never moved from a pil- 
lar against which he kept his back, and behind his back his 
hands. This, to prevent the hand-kissing universal in Rome 
from all below to all above— even from children to parents 
when they meet at morning and part at night. Thus ended 
the cardinal's appointment and installation. Next day all were 
at work, he harder than any, as though nothing had happened. 
I shall have no more to say of him in his official capacity. 



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8o Cardinal Barnabo. [April, 

Before long the cardinal began to mingle amongst us stu- 
dents. It was his delight and his frequent custom to celebrate 
the Communion Mass for us on a Sunday or special holiday. 
Immediately after Communion he would address us in what the 
Romans call a '' fervorino " ; that is, a devout and ardent ap- 
peal to the heart on the greatness and grace of the Blessed 
Sacrament. In this particular style of address I never met his 
equal anywhere, though I heard the best and holiest men in 
Rome of my day. His knowledge of the Sacred Scriptures and 
the Fathers, and his manner of welding them into his own dis- 
course without effort or display, was amazing. The man him- 
self seemed on fire with devotion, and I never witnessed any 
one celebrate Mass with such vivid faith and complete absorp- 
tion of soul and body in the great act. Once, at least, he 
practically conducted the whole annual retreat for us in Fras- 
cati. Padre Pio, the saintly Passionist of those days, was 
appointed for the work. But, on the second day, out came 
the cardinal from Rome and took up the morning and after- 
noon instructions (two practical lectures called in Rome " Ri- 
forme"), leaving to the padre only the night and early morn- 
ing meditations. Here the cardinal was in his element, and 
soon made it our element also. In nothing was he more emi- 
nent than in common sense, knowledge of men and affairs, and 
experience of the human soul and its devious ways. I used to 
take down those discourses in writing in my room while they 
were fresh in my mind. I bitterly regret they are not to 
hand, but hidden somewhere among the debris of a life's 
memoranda. While, in the chapel in Rome, the cardinal could 
melt the heart by the suavity and sweetness of his word, here,, 
on retreat, he was engaged in forming our spirits for the com- 
ing conflict of life, and he was all power, prudence, and pith. 
At all times, outside his hours of devotion, there was some- 
thing about him of the military commander — the French com- 
mander, whose soldiers are ''mes enfans" and he to them 
" mon capitaine " or " mon colonel." And for this feature of 
his character there was an excellent reason. When a mere 
boy — scion of a noble family of the Romagna — he formed one of 
many such young lads taken hostages by Napoleon I. to extort 
compliance from Pius VI. with certain points of the Emperor's 
policy, particularly that of the exclusion of England from all 
commerce with the territories of the Holy See. 



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1903.] Cardinal Barnabo. 81 

Young Barnabo was brought to France and went through 
the course of military training at 3t. Cyr. This seems to 
account for his prompt and energetic bodily movements and his 
quick decision on all matters brought before him. Whether or 
not he afso learned at that school the proper use of his fists 
when occasion called for it, it is certain he possessed that 
noble art It was well known to all Rome — though he sought 
to conceal it — that, returning from a visit to Padre Pio, who 
was his confessor, at the Passionist Church of SS. John and 
Paul, he was attacked by two burly ruffians just under the 
shadow of the Coliseum. They denunded his watch and money, 
and proceeded to lighten him of both. Two scientific blows, 
one landing under a chin, the other behind an ear, sent both 
assailants sprawling in the dust. They rose, when they could, 
and ran away. He was only monsignor then, but I am quite 
sure " it was in him " even after he became Cardinal Prefect 
One of our greatest joys in Frascati was when he came out on 
a social visit, merely to spend the day. Then, after a specially 
good table, we had coffee altogether in the gran salone over- 
looking the boundless Campagna lying at the foot of our Villa 
Montalto and stretching away to hazy Rome and the dimmer 
sea in the distance. 

There were good music always and songs for the occasion, 
and addresses in verse, good and bad, but our best Now, the 
cardinal was not only a cultured poet but an improvisatore. 
To every address he would reply, on the spur of the moment, 
in classic Italian verse, excellent in thought and rhythm. Some 
of the best of these were set to music by Jacovacci. Living 
students will remember his hymn on the beauties of Frascati 
commencing — 

" Di Montalto 1 verdi boschetti " ; 

and another, when some student addressed him as our '' Graa 
Pastore " : 

" Quando nel' vostro canto 
Voi mi chiamaste grande 
Come Sol che luce spande 
O suol ch' ingemma il fior 
Grato lo son* e contento 
Le pur falso h I'accento 
Che vi seduce il cuor. 
• fl • ' • 

▼OL. URiVII.— 6 

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82 Cardinal Barnabo. [April, 

Se quel Pastor son lo 
FigH c' uniam' insiemi 
Per iodar sempre Iddio 
Ch^ il lesto e vanita." 

Over forty years have passed, but I remember that scene, 
and this much of his improvisation, as though they were of 
yesterday. 

This sketch grows long, but I have not much more to add 
to it. 

Only three times did I communicate with the cardinal directly 
and personally. I have mentioned the stairs leading to the college 
infirmary. It was also a back way conducting from his emi- 
nence's apartments to our side of the quadrangle, to the class 
halls and the chapel. It was my duty in the last years of my 
stay in college to transact the business and see to the minor 
wants of my own camerata of which I was bidello. On win- 
ter nights when all were about to retire to rest I had often to go 
to the infirmary kitchen for hot drinks (aqua d'orzo^ barley water) 
for one or other complaining of cold. Whoso would know 
what it is to be chilled to the marrow should spend ^ winter 
in a Roman college of those days. Well, I frequently met the 
cardinal, as I went up or down this back stairs, with a lighted 
eerino in his hand. Every night, as soon as the house was still 
and all supposed to be in their beds, he came that way to 
reach the organ loft of the dark and silent chapel and end his 
laborious day by a visit to the Blessed Sacrament. For the 
first few of those meetings nothing passed between us except a 
" Felicissima notte, figlio," and my response, " Felicissima notte, 
Eminenza." 

One day, however, my prefect of camerata asked me did I 
not often meet the cardinal on the stairs and whether I gave 
him the customary reverence by kissing his hand. I replied no ; 
that we only passed with a "Good night." "Well," said the 
prefect, "I may tell you that his Eminence asked the rector 
'who is that long, swaggering fellow who passes me at night 
as cool and independent as you please?' You had better," 
pursued the prefect, " kiss his hand when next you meet him ; 
he does not care for this, yet he noticed its omission." The very 
next night I met the cardinal on that narrow stairs, he coming 
up, I going down holding a steaming kettle of aqua d'orzo. 



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1903.] Cardinal Barnabo, 83 

I went for his hand to kiss it. " E — e — eh," he roared out, 
"mi voi scottare" — "What! do you want to scald me?" 
Then, with a kind smile, "Don't mind it, son. Good- night, and 
God bless you." And he drew his hand from behind his back 
and placed it on my bowed head. 

The next time I communicated with him by letter. I held 
a place in the college for a certain foreign diocese. But in 
my last year the president of the college in Dublin where I 
had first studied wrote inviting me to come there and take a 
professorship. He would settle it with my bishop, etc. The 
offer was tempting, and after some thought I decided to accept 
it. But then, I felt it would be hardly fair to have occupied 
the post in Propaganda for six years and then at last with- 
draw my services from the diocese that sent me there. So 
without using any influence, or consulting any one, I wrote 
the cardinal direct, petitioning for the continuance to my dio^ 
cese of the place I held, and, as I was about it, I asked also 
for a new place in the college for the diocese neighboring 
my own, which was badly equipped and needy. In a very 
short time I received an official letter from his Eminence 
granting both requests, and I immediately forwarded it to my 
bishop. 

Those places have since sent out several good missionary 
priests and furnished my own diocese with a bishop. I note 
this fact to show how quickly Cardinal Barnabo recognized and 
rewarded a good motive, how generous he was in giving, how 
approachable and free of formalities when a worthy object was 
proposed to him. 

The last time I came into personal contact with Cardinal 
Barnabo was when I took my degrees. He headed the table 
where sat the fourteen professors, members of the faculty. I 
had passed all but one and he was a supplente^ as it was 
called, or locum tenens, for the professor of canon law, who 
had been for some time ill. He was a very young man 
anxious to distinguish himself, and I was another and younger 
man anxious to get away. We had a disagreement. Mean- 
time the cardinal was chatting merrily with the professors near 
him at the other end of the long table. He, too, had had 
enough of it. Noticing the contention between the supplente 
and me, and tired of the delay, he cried out, "What are you 
two arguing about down there ?" The supplente replied, " This 



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84 Cardinal Barnabo. [April, 

young man does not answer my question " (it was one about 
conditions between the contracting parties that annul the con- 
tract), and he repeated the question for the cardinal. ** Well, 
what is your answer?" said his Eminence to me. I repeated 
it as I had before given it and stuck to it. "That is a suffi- 
cient answer," said his Eminence ; ** the examination is closed.*' 
I retired while the vote was being taken and, called by the 
junior professor, I returned and knelt before his Eminence. 
** You have them all," he said, laying his hand on my head, 
"and now you barely know how to study." 

A picture of Cardinal Barnabo is a difficult thing to find. 
Only through a ruse, of which he was utterly unconscious, 
could a portrait of the man be obtained. It was the custom 
of the students in their last year to secure, and carry home 
with them, photographs of the whole college of their day, 
grouped in catneratas^ and of the superiors singly in cabinet 
size. But Cardinal Barnabo could never be induced to have 
his portrait taken. In vain we besieged the rector, Tancioni, 
who was a great personal friend of the cardinal, to persuade 
his Eminence to gratify us in this matter. The cardinal would 
not hear of it. At length one day when his Eminence came 
to dine with the students, on occasion of a college festival, the 
rector quietly introduced a good photographer and planted him, 
in college costume, at one of the tables commanding a good 
view of the cardinal in a good light. As his Eminence was 
seated at table it was only the bust and head that were pre- 
sented, and so nowhere to-day will a fuller portrait of his 
figure be found. That was absolutely the only picture of 
Cardinal Barnabo ever taken, and I believe he never knew that 
his person, or the portion of him then visible, had been thus 
kidnapped. The rector took every precaution that his amiable 
subterfuge should not come to the cardinal's knowledge. Yet 
a few replicas of the photo were produced and a few oil paintings 
taken of it. I was a witness of this little by-play and was aware, 
with all the rest of the catnerata, of the reason and motive of it — 
the profound humility and self-effacement of this great man, 
unconscious of his gifts and merits, and of the grandeur of his 
own soul. 

One of the old paintings taken from that photograph— the 
only one I ever saw either in Rome or America — hangs in the 



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1903.] Cardinal Barnabo. 85 

sitting-room of the Paulist Fathers in New York. It is a faith- 
ful likeness, though there are a dulness and heaviness about the 
expression of the features that were not natural in the original. 
He seems much older too than when I first saw him in Cardi- 
nal Franzoni's room. That was only a few years before the 
taking of the picture; but a few years of his responsibility, 
with the ardor he gave to it, quickly converted mature manhood 
into age. The picture at the Paulists is treasured there as a 
dear memento of one who — placed in the City of Rome in the 
highest station, except one, that the Church of Rome can con- 
fer — was the loyal friend, the liberal benefactor, the strpng 
protector of the Paulist Congregation He «tood by it in troublous 
times. He cheered it onward amid the gloom of suspicion s^nd 
the stumbling-blocks of prejudice. He cast his broad mantle 
over it when the darkness and the coldness of death encom- 
passed it. During all his life he made himself its surety and 
its saviour. 

And here I close this too meagre sketch of a man mighty 
in' his soul and in his life-work. He would not, in life, have 
desired even this much of a memorial to his name. He sought 
only the kingdom of God and asked not that aught else in this 
world should be added thereunto. 

Would that some one of the few now remaining on whom, 
as on myself, the light of his life was shed in those bygone 
days — some one better equipped than I for the task — were in- 
spired to enlarge this picture and give color to its crude out- 
line ! No more instructive or interesting work could be pre- 
sented to the Catholic or- the general public than the full story 
of the life and times of Cardinal Barnabo 




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The Memorial to the* Deceased vPauLiSts;: 



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1903.] THE Memorial to the Deceased Paulists. 87. 




THE MEMORIAL TO THE DECEASED PAULISTS. 

MEMORIAL to Father Hecker and other deceased 
Paulist Fathers has recently been completed at 
the entrance to their great, massive stone church 
in New York. While it fills one of the large 
doorways of the south tower, yet it reveals some- 
thing of the nature of a chapel. The alcove is about six feet 
wide, seventeen feet deep, and twenty feet higlv and it is spanned 
by a Romanesque arch resting on marble piHars with modified 
Byzantine capitals. Just outside the columns are two polished, 
memorial tablets of Vermont marble extending from the base, 
to the level from which the arch is sprung. At the to|>. of.the 
tablets are trefoils symbolical of the Trinity and of the Christus*^. 
Below this are the names of the priests of the church who havci 
died. Beginning on the left is the name of Isaac Thomas Hecker, ; 
and on the right is that of Augustine Francis Hewit. Beneath 
these leading names on the left is a space left vacant, in which 
will be carved the name of George Deshon, the present 
Superior- General, and then follow the names of Robert Beverly 
Tillotson, Algernon Aloysius Brown, Charles Redmond Crosson, 
Martin Joseph Gasserly, Alfred Young ; and on the right, Francis 
Augustine Baker, Adrian Louis Rosecrans, Louis Gregory 
Brown, Edward Bernard Brady, Russel Aloysius Nevins, to be 
followed by the name of Thomas Verney Robinson, who died 
on February i6, 1903. 

Flanking the arch above is the inscription: "To the Paulist 
Fathers who have gone before us with the sign of- the faith, 
and whose bodies rest in the vaults below^ this memorial is 
erected." 

In the recess, of the doorway is a panel of the Crucifixion, 
life-size, wrought in wood by the burning point and illuminated 
with gold. On either side, at the foot of the Cross, are adoring 
angels, one uplifting the Chalice, with the inscription " My 
Blood is drink indeed " ; and beneath the other, elevating the 
Sacred Host, with the inscription " My Body is meat indeed." 
Above the Crucifix is the figure of an ascending dove, and over 



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88 The Memorial to the Deceased Paulists. [April, 

that the Triangle symbolizing the Trinity, and the Alpha and 
the Omega.. 

The whole is the design of William Laurel Harris, who has 
charge of the mural decorations of the Church. 

Mr. Harris has earned for himself, in the artistic world an 
enviable reputation for the very excellent work that he has 
done, and this latest masterpiece of his skill is bound to attract 
national attention. While it is a suitable memorial, executed 
with rare ability, it is also a unique specimen of devotional 
art. It creates an atmosphere of prayer right at the very door 
of the Church, and is, moreover, a very fitting reminder to the 
people of the labors of the Fathers who have served their 
spiritual interests in this Church.. 

The Memorial Chapel is a part of the scheme of decoration 
that is transforming the Church of the Paulist Fathers into one 
of the most attractive churches in the country. 

In the beginning the great size of the Church, together with 
its large unadorned wall -spaces, gave the edifice a cold, for- 
bidding aspect. Biit as time has gone on the warm coloring, 
together with the devotional paintings, has created an atmos- 
phere of prayerfulness, so that there is no more devotional 
church in the country than this one. What intensifies this 
effect is the fact of the solid stone walls shutting out the city 
noises, and the light coming from above leads the soul heaven- 
ward in prayer. The mural paintings of Mr. Harris are one of 
the most beautiful features of the Church. 




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1903.] The Easter Dawn. 89 





©HE GASiFBr^ Dawn. 

BY MARY O'BRIEN. 
I 

lHERE woke the Dawn. 

Fixed were its dim gray wings 
And stilled in flight, 
Like morn whose soul still clings 
To fading night. 
Why doth it pause across the sleeping sky? 
So might thy sons, blest Israel, breathe; ''Ah, why?" 

II. 
There woke the Dawn. 
It bade the mist-veiled flowers 
To rise from sleep; 
Then fell o'er all Earth's bowers 
Its myst'ry deep. 

Why doth the hills expectant watch the sky? 
So might thy sons, dumb Israel, pray : " Ah, why ? " 

III. 
Calm waits the Dawn. 
A sudden mighty breath ! 
A conquered tomb ! 
Now is thy death, O Death, 
Past all thy gloom. 

The Crucified from sin's fell doom is freed ; 
Blest God ! — ^yet sleeping Israel pays no heed ! 

IV. 
'Tis still the Dawn. 
O tears of death and night 
And faithless fear, 
Ye shades of Calv'ry's height, 
How come you here ? 

The Light that flashed above the dreaming sod 
Shines o'er us still, — the veiled Face of God. 



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(JOYGB JOSSELYN, SlNNBI^. 



BY MARY SARSFIELD GILMORB. 



Part III. 

AT THE TURN OF MATURITY. 




CHAPTER VII. 

"AND SO THEY WERE MARRIED." 

JOYCE'S instinctive suspicion as to the missing Hans' 
whereabouts proved one of such truthful intuitions 
as souls in sympathy sometimes experience. Half 
in romantic sentiment in its morbid phase, half 
in the despair of the niaterialist when temporal 
fortune deserts him, Hans had stolen away from the bed of 
death, and set his face towards Oakland. He did not question 
the motives impelling him ; in truth, he was but sub-conscious . 
of his destination and intention. He realized only that he was 
ruined, — ruined ! The catastrophe seemed final, eternal ! 

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. 

Joyce Josselyn, born and brought up amidst all the narrowing restraints of New England 
farm-life, conceives the idea of going to college. His father Hiram considers chat college was 
intended for the sons of the rich and that no son of his should waste his youth in college, and M 
Joyce chose to sulk a good stout horsewhip was the best cure for the youngster's fftubbom ten- 
des. Joyce finds a sympathizer in his desire for learning in Father Martin Camith. 

Chapter II. is a touching family scene between the irate Hiram and the recalcitrant Tojrce, 
which concludes in Joyce receiving a flogging with the horsewhip and leaving home. Chapter 
III. introduces Mandy Johnson as the boy s sweetheart, whom he meets as he is turning bis 
back on the home of his childhood for ever, and they make promises of fidelity. 

In the first chapters of Part II. Joyce as a college student is presented to the various per^ 
sonalities who make their home in Camithdale, the manor-house of Centreville, and there is 
given an insight into the social life of a college town. 

Joyce was graduated with highest honors. Commencement Day at college. Father 
Martin is there for the first time since his own graduation. Dr. Castleton, the president, 
awakens into the spiritual sense. Joyce having outgrown Mandy Johnson, by conmion con- 
tent their life-ways separate. Joyce enters the world. He accepts the offer tendered to him to 
be sub-editor on a Western paper, and in this capacity, on the morrow of his graduation, he 
enters the vigorous, bustling hfe of the energetic West. At the moment of his departure he 
calls on Mrs. Raymond and a significant interview takes place, in which the influence of a wo- 
man of the world enters his life. On the journey to the West Joyce has a long talk with Ray- 
mond, in which the latter gives his views on various matters, and states the terms on which he 
engages Joyce. Arrived in San Francisco, Joyce sends an exuberant telegram to his mother. 
Joyce enters social life and takes part in a ball at the Golden Gate Ranch. Mina and Joyce 
are drawn unto each other, while Raymond's wife talks of divorce. Mina and Raymond, land- 
ing at Island Rock, are both drowned. Joyce endeavors to save them, and narrowly escapes 
with his own life. After Raymond s death Mrs. Raymond removes to San Francisco, pendmg 
the settlement of her husband's estate. Pearson, having assumed control of the Fioneer, has 
a stormy interview with Joyce. Mrs. Raymond suddenly decides to sail for Europe ; Joyce, fail- 
ing to agree to her plans, decides to remain with the Pioneer. Stephen proposes to Gladys. 
Joyce meets with the great temptation. Pearl Ripley, a Comedy Girl, enters into his lue. 
Womanhood has lost something of its spiritual beauty as the result. Later on he is lured into 
a scheme of stock gamblinj?. Stephen engages in social work, and tastes some of the higher 
things of life. He meets Gladys after the promised year's delay ; while Mrs. Raymond, a 
restless woman of the world, comes into Joyce's life again. Joyce is about to declare his 
love for Gladys when the news comes of a mine swindle Joyce saves Hans from despair, but 
comes again under the sway of Mrs. Raymond's power. 



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I903-] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 91 

From side-street to thoroughfare, from car to ferry, from 
ferry to shore again, was a headlong and purely mechanical 
progression. Faces strange and familiar impressed him but 
vaguely, like shadows that flit through a dream. The gentle- 
eyed stars, the sad sea and the night-wind, seemed more close- 
ly akin to him than indifferent humanity. Life's agonized 
hours come vestured in loneliness. Therein human tragedy lies. 

In the starlight, the home of Hans' heart looked its fairest 
Recent rains had but freshened its vigorpus verdure. Here and 
there were bare stalks, vivid foliage, frost- nipped blossoms; 
but, as a whole, the estate was unblighted by winter. The 
white house in its centre looked an ideal '• Love's Cottage.'* 
Yet Hans, whose shock of loss had left hope behind, came no 
longer to claim, but to renounce it. 

Against the white gate he leaned long and listlessly, scan- 
ning the familiar scene before him with leave-taking eyes. 
Then, semi-circling the house with laggard footsteps, he reached 
the rear acre, — his " mother's garden." But the bent, old 
brown-faced figure in the short skirt, the blue apron, the close 
cap he remembered, never would potter here now, — never prune 
the clambering vines, or watch the young sprouts growing: — 
never sit at night by the inner hearthstone, knitting socks for 
him and his children. All her prayers and hopes rendered null 
and void, — all the hoard of her life-long toil and self-denial 
lost, — lost through his fault and folly ! 

" Mutterchen ! " he sobbed, tearlessly : and all affection, all 
remorse, all pain and despair were in the cry. Then, with the 
sullen defiance of utter hopelessness in his face, he retraced his 
steps towards the highway. 

But as the gate clicked behind him he glanced over his 
shoulder. Then unshed tears, warm as life-blood, obscured his 
vision. If the fall of his castles of filial affection was bitter, 
what was the blight of his dreams of love? How sweet it had 
been to fancy Katrina's light step through the rooms, down 
the stair, out upon the green- trellised porch, down the steps to 
the bordered paths, the level lawn, the star and heart-shaped 
beds brilliant even now with hardy flowers! How her yellow 
hair would have matched the sunbeams of California's golden 
mornings, her blue tyts the skies, serene yet changeful, — her 
fresh young face the lilies and roses it had been his labor of 
love to train for her. How, on happy holidays, the songs of 



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92 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner, [April, 

the birds, now with heads under wings, had suggested the 
music of glad years to come, when he and Katrina should 
share their home-nest with dear little human fledgelings ! All 
that was pure in the man's heart, all that was sweet and sim- 
ple and selfless, all that was tender and human with the sanc- 
tified humanity of the love that God destines, seemed, in his 
distorted judgment, to be mocked maliciously. He pressed 
towards the water-front where it stretched deserted, apart from 
the boats and wharves^ 

It was a blind lead that Hans was following, — the morbid 
impulse of the melancholy strain in the blood of the Teuton, 
when sapped of the religion that recognizes in even the most 
overwhelming of temporal misfortunes a grace to be smiled at 
through tears. Long since, alas ! religion and Hans had parted 
company. But his mother and Katrina still prayed for him. 

As the wind skimmed the bay, legion drowned stars scin- 
tillated. In Hans' eyes, as he paused, was the fixed gaze of 
the fatalist. He knew now, why he was here, — what occult 
force had impelled him. The golden-haired Lorelei was calling 
him — 

" Hans ! " 

Swinging along from the pier, with the speed of prophetic 
dread^ Joyce was startled, rather than surprised, by the sight 
of Hans' solitary figure in its ominously despondent attitude. 
Even as it slowly swayed seaward, his firm hand gripped it, 
and Hans was hurled safely inland ! 

''Hans!'' he repeated, as instinctively, rather than with 
deliberate intent, Hans opposed dumb resistance to rescue. 
Joyce's voice, by moral force, achieved instant victory. In its 
imperativeness was a note surpassing mere human protest. The 
Creative Will, the Divine Arraignment, thrilled the mortal 
chords of their chosen instrument. Accused, judged, convicted 
even by his own guilty soul, Hans cowered in humbled silence! 

"Come," commanded Joyce, discreetly ignoring the tragical 
circumstances, and quelling emotion by his commonplace ac- 
cents.- " I 've no time to waste, — we *11 talk on our way back. 
I 've followed you to make you my messenger to the Pioneer, 
Tell the boys that not one of them is to lose a dollar ! On this 
assurance they can live for a day or two, till I post you with 
all the details." 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 93 

But Hans only stared in stolid silence. Momentarily, his 
usually quick intelligence was blunted. Moreover, his convic- 
tion of loss still stunned him. Joyce's public assumption of 
financial responsibility, — the multi-millionaire's vow by his be- 
loved son's death-bed, — had been but as empty words in Hans' 
ears, — pretty, platitudes of no practical value. If hope dies 
hard in the human breast, it is equally hard to resurrect it! 

" Oh, don't you understand ? " demanded Joyce, impatiently. 
" We will call in all shares at their purchase- value ! If you 
gain nothing, at least you will lose nothing by me. But small 
thanks to me ! Thank poor — Dick ! " 

As his voice broke, his pretence of tolerance vanished with 
it. His own joyous vitality made him contemptuous of a man 
who in his youth and strength, could hold the boon of human 
life lightly. His eyes flashed on Hans like flames of scorn. 
TMfey were scathing his guilt and cowardice. 

''Dick!'' he cried. "Had his death-bed to-night, then, no 
lesson for you ? What would he not have given for your vigor 
and health, — for your man-life's glorious chances ? " 

** He — was — rich," was Hans' sullen answer. 

*' Rich ? Yes ! And what did his riches do for him, but 
dishonor his manhood, and cut off his young life ? The earners 
of bread fill their parts in the world; but what part had he 
filled, when his short call came to him ? Do you remember 
his death-cry ? ' // didn't pay I ' Is there no moral there for 
us, Hans?" 

Silence, — shamed, sulky silence on the part of Hans. Joyce 
affected obliviousness no longer. 

" How would suicide pay you, — body or soul ? " he thun- 
dered. " How would it pay the dependent women to whom 
you owe support and protection ? Where is yoUr honor to 
desert your mother and sweetheart, — you, to whom they en- 
trusted their little savings ? To . leave them destitute, — you, a 
son, a lover ! I am disappointed in you, Hans : ashamed of 
you ! " 

''But I can't bring them out," Hans pleaded, helplessly. 

" Yes, you can bring them out, too ! Hang it, can't I get 
it through your pate that you have lost nothing, — nothing? 
But what if it were otherwise ? Have n't better men than 
you had to begin life over ? Look at me, out of the Pioneer^ 
and with every dollar of my private means now public pro- 



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94 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [April, 

perty ! But am / flinging myself to the devil ? Nix, I 'm aihre 
and kicking! You chicken- heart, live up to your manhood!" 

" Manhood ! " echoed Hans, passionately. His torpor was 
ended, his temper aroused. Thoughts long rankling in silence 
strained fiercely to voice themselves. Joyce's challenge had 
rung to his heart. " Manhood ? " he repeated, with bitter satire. 
''Ach, yah, — manhood! Are brain and brawn and a heart, a 
man's measure, then, in this day of the world, — in this coun- 
try?" 

"Yes, they are, you mad pessimist; — as they always have 
been, as they always will be ! " 

'^ It's a lie!'' Hans' excitement condoned its expression. 
" Is mere manhood respected while it lacks means to back it ? 
Has it a footing and voice with its generation ? Can it found 
home and family, and insure sons a future ? Nein, mein Herr ! 
The man's day is over ! " * 

''Hans,— " 

" Humanity,^-does it count, under foot of Society? Has 
manhood its chance, where the wealth-line discounts it ? Brute 
human, and gentleman, — so mankind is divided ! " The cursed 
gold-race is the death of the middle-man, I tell you! Yet 
what choice, but to join, — and lose it ? " 

There was a sob in his voice, though his eyes burned drily. 

"Oh, big houses, fine tables, tailor's clothes, aren't our 
prizes," he cried. " Simple lives for us plain men ! Work and 
hardship agree with us. But life 's vital, it 's human, it 's 
manly things, — men must have them ! And, by heaven, they 've 
got their cash-price ! " 

" Hans, Hans, this is the refinement of social anarchy, — " 

" Anarchy for the knave ; and ' Social Equality ' is the cry 
of the fool ! ' Honor to just inequality^' is the cause of the sane 
man. But its hope was the democracy ! The plutocracy kills 
it The man must go down, before — money ! " 

"Hans—" 

But Hans was oblivious to all save his grievance. Inter- 
ruption and argument were alike futile, inconsequent His life- 
problem clamored for solution. 

" Money ! " he cried, recklessly. " Sehr gut^ then let it be 
money! We must run with our world, — and worship its idols! 
But it takes money now to make money, already ! That 's the 
curse, the dead-lock, the despair of it ! " 



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I903-] JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. 95 

The awful riddle of the majority, — the vital difficulty of the 
great middle -class! What possible solution for all ages and 
nations, — for peace and good- will among men ? 

The night, momentous for Hans in its mortal issues, was 
recording a finer spiritual crisis for Joyce. Catastrophe after 
catastrophe had awed and humbled him. From the heights of 
fortune, he had been hurled to the deeps of ruin, to the verge 
of dishonor, with a suddenness alike appalling and incredible. 
Within these great wheels of material fatality, subtler wheels 
seemed to grind his spirit. Through the night's strange vicissi- 
tudes ran a single motif! They were no fugitive notes, many- 
keyed and discordant, but perfect chords of minor harmony. 
The downfall that was the penalty of his own reckless ambi- 
tion, — poor Dick's fatal accident, — Hans' soul- slaying despair, — 
and now, man's wild heart-cry against man's inhumanity, — as 
effects, these suggested a common cause! What was- it, — and 
what was the cure of it ? 

Even as Hans was speaking, light had dawned upon Joyce, — 
such spiritual light as the unspiritual recognize but dimly. 
Nevertheless it dissolved the densest shadows bewildering him, — 
as the first star illumines the night. 

" Hans," he cried. Hinging his arm * about Hans' big shoul- 
ders, — " you 're wrong-headed but right- hearted, and the heart's 
the main thing! Wealth does serve Society at the cost of 
Humanity ! There is something rotten in the whole world's 
Denmark! But to go wrong with wrong, — to turn deserter in- 
stead of hero, — rights nothing, and only nlakes bad worse ! " 

" Was, then ? " demanded Hans, with reviving interest. 
With death cheated, And his finances intact if not augmented, — 
perhaps most of all, because Joyce's arm was around him, — 
despair was rebounding to hope. 

Joyce hesitated. He did not know how to word it, — the 
new thought within him, the sweet grace enlightening him. He 
knew only, that Dick's first and last soul-cry haunted him : 
that the stars and the winds and the sea seemed to thrill with 
it: that it rang in his soul as life's universal Solution, — the 
Divine- human Name of Christ! 

" Well, look here," he began, diffidently. " We 're all wrong 
together, — rich and poor, man and master, — because we 've 
strayed from first principles. We 've got to turn back to A- D, i 
to get righted ! Yes, sir ! There 's no other way ! " 



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96 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER, [April, 

Starward, seaward, through the night dark yet glowing, his 
eyes gazed earnestly, with a new, tender reverence in them. 
His voice seemed to harmonize with the music of Nature ; 
human tones do, when the soul is their keynote. 

" Your socialism," he went on, " has taught me one lesson, 
Hans ; and poor Dick's death has taught me another. The first 
is, that the one perfect Socialist came out of Nazareth ! Vital 
force, dynamic power, good and justice, are in Him ! The 
second is, the memory that Dick died in His Name ! Now, it 
.appeals to my intelligence, my philosophy, my logic, that the 
Name to die by, is the Name to live by! Hans, the best men 
and women I know, do live by It, — and by glory, their Chris- 
tian lives 'pay * / " 

" GoU in Himmel ! " exclaimed Hans, in incredulous surprise. 
With the spiritual sensitiveness and sympathy latent in all 
music-loving races, he comprehended Joyce's thought, — assimi- 
lated it, — responded to it; — but it was only as a gay young 
worldling that he had known his friend, hitherto. Even such 
soulfulness as German rationalism accepts intellectually, he had 
not ascribed to the dashing young speculator. 

"Right you are," assented Joyce, in a tone lighter than his 
thought. 

"* God's in His heaven. All's right with the world!' 
When real things go wrong, — well, we Ve left God out of it ! 
And that's what's the matter with us!" 

*' Und — warum — nichtf" meditated Hans, after perplexed 
hesitation, — gesturing inquiry to the murmuring sea. Joyce's 
solution, although unexpected, yet had the reminiscent charm 
of familiarity. Long ago, God and heaven had been realities. 

Like a fair dream remembered, the faith of Hans' childhood 
recurred to him. How the mother-face — plain and worn even 
in its youth — had been glorified, as its smile blessed his kneel- 
ing figure. How he had loved the pious shrines, the choral 
service, the holy festivals of Catholic Germany ! But the 
schools of his boyhood stimulating intellect rather than spirit, — 
the rationalistic atmosphere of his impressionable youth, — the 
shallow philosophies of his military conlrades when compulsory 
conscription claimed his service, — and later, the socialistic ten- 
dencies oi his age and class, all too soon had set Biichner and 
Bauer against Genesis and Christ's Vicar, and substituted 
Feuerbach, Hartmann, and their prolific kind, for the four great 



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1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 97 

Christian Evangelists ! Then the New World's Republic had 
fanned smouldering ambition to fire, — such fire as scorches the 
soul. 

" Come," said Joyce, descending from his unaccustomed 
heights with relieved alacrity. " A spurt to the boat, Hans, 
and back to town with me ! I must keep an appointment, 
though it's well on to midnight I owe you one, for trotting 
me way out here ! " 

Hans turned from his vision of Lethe without reluctance. 
Life attracted him newly, since Joyce's words had reconstructed 
it. That the Christ he had been wont to relegate to the 
Scriptures and churches, to priests and women, to ignorance 
and childhood, had been a Socialist, was a novel thought that 
yet seemed corroborated by early lessons recalled. All at once 
he remembered the Birth in poverty, the Youth as a carpenter's 
son, the Ministry to the multitude, the Death of the Innocent 
as a malefactor ! Was it not thus that all reformers, all ideal- 
ists were destined to perish, — martyrs to causes blood -drenched, 
yet by death unvanquished, — victorious victims of the impotent 
hate of the world? Suddenly the stars seemed illumed by the 
Star of Bethlehem. In contrast, the dark waters he had sought 
made him shudder. The most perilous of all temptations had 
passed from Hans for ever. Mother- prayers, maiden-prayers, 
thus won answer. 

With a hasty glance at his watch as he landed, Joyce sprang 
into a cab, bargaining that the pace should be a "record- 
breaker." Unexpectant of admission at such a late hour, yet he 
felt in courtesy bound to honor Imogen's summons. But even 
as he ran up the steps, the door opened hospitably. ''The 
ladies awaited Mr. Josselyn in the library ! " 

However true may be the refrain of the sad old song, — 
" For men must work. 
And women must weep,** — 
yet that while men serve, women only stand and wait, is a 
truth of still deeper pathos. The sorrow that weeps, ebbs with 
its tears ; but the tearless suspense of the heart that waits, is the 
woman's keenest agony. Thus the hours that had been so full of 
engrossing action for Joyce, had been to Imogen but a time of 
enforced passivity, during which conflicting thoughts had rein. 
She was facing a fate she cojuld not control; and her imperious 

VOL, LXXVII. — 7 

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98 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. ^ [April, 

nature rebelled against her impotence. She had seen Joyce ex- 
alted to the heights of her desire for him ; and just as the way 
of love without undue sacrifice of pride had seemed clear, sudden 
mischance had hurled him far below his original level. His 
honor was compromised ; his little fortune, though but a drop 
in the bucket of his indemnity, must be surrendered; and even 
his professional position already had been stript from him by 
the wrathful and hasty Colonel ! But Imogen's fancy had 
strengthened beyond the power of worldly adversity to blight 
it. The woman's weird that makes " the world well lost for 
love," had come to her; and to dree it was her bitter-sweet 
fate! 

As she pondered her problem, — so complex in the social, 
so simple in the human sense, — little by little her keen regret 
for Joyce's downfall lessened. Was his ill wind not blowing her 
the good she craved ? That his simple, admiring, grateful af- 
fection for her was still the sentiment of a boy, rather than the 
passion of a man, Imogen was too astute not to recognize; and 
the recent tete-a-tete which had transferred Gladys' violets to 
his buttonhole, had convinced her that she had a dangerous 
rival. Therefore there was compensation even for humbled 
pride in the realization that Joyce's difficulties could be utilized 
to forge him fast to her by the fetters of dependence and in- 
debtedness, — delicate advantages which Gladys would be the 
last to dispute. 

But as Imogen was nothing if not farseeing, she had been 
at pains to frighten Gladys from the field in advance, thus 
obviating all possibility of future emulation. With malice pre- 
pense, she had hinted broadly during their homeward drive, 
that as financial influence alone could exempt Joyce from 
liability, Gladys, of course, would exert it lavishly 1 The 
smiling insolence of her assumption had effected its subtle 
work, and the girl, startled and Bushing, had retreated into 
herself, shrinking from the suggestion of friendly assertion, 
since, even anticipatively, it was open to such humiliating mis- 
construction. But even aside from natural sensitiveness, Gladys, 
though the soul of generosity, had found it painful to contem- 
plate Joyce's pride and manliness degraded by the supposition 
that he was open to a woman's material assistance. Purposely 
pressed by Imogen, the girl had acknowledged reluctantly, that 
while sorrowing for his misfortune, and deeply regretting the 



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J 903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 99 

Colonel's severity, Joyce was not, in her eyes, the innocent 
victim of others, but responsible for his own unhappy position. 

Though secretly exulting at an admission which could not 
but be mortally offensive in the repetition, Imogen had sneered 
at the friendship that could judge in cold blood; and the girl 
had gone to her room heavy-hearted. Which was right- 
Imogen or she? Could the reckless chances taken by Joyce 
be indeed legitimate and justified ? Was not his hazard of the 
dollars of the needy masses a selfish and cruel wrong? Must 
not ignobly purchased exemption from just penalty prove 
demoralizing, — an evil rather than a good for him, — lowering 
his principles and standards, and thus menacing the honor of 
his future ? Above all, was it possible for a young woman to 
assume the financial burdens of a man unrelated to her, without 
misrepresenting herself, and simultaneously exposing him to the 
loss of all manliness in the moral order ? Impulsive by naturey 
Gladys had schooled herself to control her girlish sympathies, 
and to hold indiscriminating generosity in check. She must 
think, she must pray, she must seek counsel, before committing 
herself to any compromising action. But if Gladys had known 
it, Imogen had not the smallest intention of conceding any 
opportunity of action ! The field to herself was her chance 
of victory ; and no woman who loves yields her chances. 

Slipping out of her jet armor into a tea-gown of pure 
white lace, Imogen stabbed the higher coils of her dark hair 
with a dagger of pearls, and after a long, fixed stare in her 
fire, descended alone to the library. Under the circumstances, 
to dine together in the absence of Mam'selle, would have been 
an ordeal for which neither she nor Gladys was eager, so the 
more elaborate meal waa declared off by common consent, and 
Gladys sipped her tea in her room under plea of fatigue, while 
an informal supper, adapted to stand for the evening, was 
spread in the library, to await Mam'selle's return. 

Dolly, with healthful masculine appetite, did due honor to 
the tempting table which rewarded his escort- duty,: — but 
Mam'selle, too exhausted by emotion for substantial refresh- 
ment, diluted her hot chocolate with gentle tears, as she 
described to Imogen the scene of Dick's death. Then resigned, 
as Dolly departed, to her duty as chaperon, she sank into a 
seat by the fire, a devout book on her knee. But though her 
spirit was willing, in the delicate flesh Mam'selle was over- 



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loo Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [April, 

weary. Soothed by her cheering cup, warmed by the flames, 
calmed by Imogen's deceptive quiet, she was betrayed into 
peaceful somnolency. Her eyes closed, — her head nodded, — 
she dozed. 

Imogen scarcely drew breath as Mam'selle's slumber deep- 
ened. The silence, the virtual solitude, were more than welcome 
to her. She slipped cushions behind the nodding head till they 
pillowed it, and screened Mam'selle's face from the fire. Then 
she stole to the portieres, whispering to the servant answering 
her ring, that no further service would be needed, and that 
she was " at home " only to Mr. Josselyn, who would be in 
haste, and was to be admitted without announcement ! Then 
she crossed to the window, and like the lady of the moated 
grange, looked wearily out while the late- comer tarried. As 
she listened for Joyce, her heart throbbed in her ears ; and the 
regular clock- ticks seemed to pulsate deafeningly. A glance in 
the mirror showed her burning lips and brilliant eyes; but a 
face white and rigid in its nervous tension. There was a claret- 
cup on the table, and she drank of it feverishly. Then she 
watched, as her stimulated blood restored her coloring. When 
Joyce's step, quick and Arm, at last rang on the pavement, 
the clock- ticks were subdued, and her heart beat normally. As 
he entered, her smile indicated the oblivious Mam'selle; and in 
silence she beckoned him towards the further end of the room. 
In her white-vestured beauty, her youth triumphed touchingly 
over her widowhood. She was simpler, more feminine in the 
tender sense, in gentler mood, than Joyce ever had seen or 
imagined her. Between her and her surroundings his dazzled 
eyes vacillated. Unconsciously, he breathed a sigh of content. 

"How good of you to receive me so late," he murmured. 
" It seems like Paradise in here, — after the events of my evening ! 
Of course, Mam'selle has told you of Dick's death in my rooms, — 
of my subsequent call to Oakland — " 

But his experiences had moved him more deeply than he 
knew. His voice choked. All the tragedy of human life seemed 
upon him. With a gesture, appealing in its boyish simplicity, 
he covered his eyes with his hand. 

Without remark she stole to the table, pouring claret, and 
selecting the most tempting sandwiches. 

" Eat, drink, and be silent, while I tell you all the pretty 
things said of your tea,'? she commanded. "Then, I prescribe a 



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1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. ioi 

cigarette, to restore the tone of this room. We have been so 
gay that it has fallen into disuse, save as the sanctum of Gladys' 
studies, and Mam'selle's devout meditations; and the feminine 
atmosphere in excess, quite stifles me. A masculine cigarette 
will make all the difference !" 

He obeyed, while touched and cheered by her womanly 
ministry ; and finding, as she had intended that he should find, in 
the compliments she retailed, a fine balm for his wounded spirit. 
When the dainty yet subtly strong cigarette was smoked well 
to its end, the dispirited Joyce was himself again! Then Imogen 
leaned back in silence, and gave him his vent. The woman who 
knows men respects the fine line dividing sweet tyranny from 
intrusive assertion. 

It had been far from Joyce's original thought to give 
Imogen his full confidence. His first impulse upon entering had 
been to look for Gladys ; his first impression, one of unrea- 
sonable disappointment that the girl was not present, since he 
had known that she would not be present at such a late hour. 
But Dick's death, Hans' despair, the high- lights mystically 
dawning upon his own soul just as temporal misfortune most 
deeply submerged him, had been subjects at his heart to which 
he knew she would have responded; and the assertiveness of 
the ego in hours of stress, is incredibly selfish and irrational. 
Conventions, possibilities, even probabilities, all go down before 
it ! Joyce's first instinct had been to resent Gladys' absence. 
But the intangible change in Imogen, transforming her, of a 
sudden, from woman to girl, from pride to humility, from the 
insolence of indifference to the flattery of solicitude, almost if 
not quite substituted Gladys for the hour, — while the material 
influence of his passage from chill night to light and warmth, — 
from exhaustion to the recuperation of rest and refreshment, — 
from the ugly realism of life to its fine aesthetics, — united to 
soften and sway him. The deep reds and dull golds of the 
rich interior, its paintings and statuary, its books and fire and 
hospitable supper- table, with the mother- like presence of Mam'- 
selle at* her ease, insidiously appealed to his mood, his tem- 
perament. The restful homeliness, the sweet intimacy of the 
scene, were resistless. His surcharged heart vented itself in 
speech to Imogen. 

" Oh, I feel such an impostor ! " he cried, impulsively. " If 
you knew all my guilt, Mrs. Raymond, I should forfeit your 



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I02 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner, [April, 

friendship! I took chances — after I doubted: which was a 
base wrong to others. From the first, I distrusted Bull and 
Price, — and the Colonel and Stephen warned me! But the 
bait was too tempting, — and I ran the risk. I knew that I had 
a following to whom loss meant despair, — yet in my selfishness 
I let them take their chances with me. Of course I hoped 
against hope, — with the hope of the fool ! But that is not the 
smallest excuse for me ! " 

Upon the wound of his soul her low voice fell absolvingly. 

"It is every excuse, Joyce," she said, with conviction. 
" What is any speculation but a game of chance ? Western 
men are not children, to be led blindfold by you ! Why, you 
are as unjust to yourself as the Colonel — and Gladys — are to 
you." Her pretty pause of reluctance redeemed her mention 
of Gladys. " The Colonel is unpardonable," — she resented : 
"but we all know his temper! As for Gladys, girlish inex- 
perience is always hard and unreasonable." She hesitated as if 
loath to censure, yet coerced by sympathy. " Ideals," she ad- 
mitted, from her store of ripe wisdom, — " ideals may be high, — 
and yet human." 

He plunged headlong into the trap her cleverness had set 
for him. Upon his self-reproach, the reproach of another, — 
above all, of Gladys, — fell sorely. What self-confessed " miser- 
able sinner," — however truly remorseful and humble, — ^but re- 
sents rather than loves the stern justice corroborating him? 
So Gladys was hard and unjust in her judgment of him? He 
was hurt to the heart, but pride dulled pain effectually. A 
smile flickered behind Imogen's discreetly lowered lashes. 
Joyce's thoughts were an open book to her. 

"I am not surprised that Miss Broderick condemns me," 
he answered, coldly. " Her principles concede nothing, and I 
am open to censure. I make no protest against my pun- 
ishment — " 

" But / do," she hastened, with a zeal that touched him. 
"Why, save to stand between you and punishment, have I 
sent for you, Joyce ? Your position, you know, is no laughing- 
matter ! You must have definite plans, — sufficient resource, — 
for to-morrow, — " 

" Hush ! " he interrupted her. " Let me answer before you 
have spoken ! " 

Between his punishment and him, as responsible for a 



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1903. J Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. , 103 

scheme to defraud, she, a wom^n, could stand only as rep^- 
sented by the miracle- worker, money ! The reason of her im- 
perative summons was no longer a mystery. The solution 
claimed Joyce's passionate gratitude. Although already he 
owed her all that he had been and was, she but awaited his 
word still to pour out her wealth for him, with grandly un- 
grudging nobility. What a contrast to critical and conservative 
Gladys ! How could he thank her, — how indemnify her suffi- 
ciently? In his ardor of thought, he sprang to his feet; — an 
impulse mistaken for a sign of resentment. Imogen's heart 
palpitated; her proud eyes, for once, were deprecating. The 
fear that she felt of Joyce, established his sovereignty. She 
did not know that all women fear, where they love! 

"So far as any public penalty goes," he explained with 
glad pride, "I am already exempted. The sell-out of my 
Shasta will go a long way towards righting things; and where 
my resources end, poor Dick's millions begin. In his memory, 
his father's influence and fortune are mine; so the Pioneer 
Mine will justify itself,, in spite of defaulters. But your won- 
derful goodness is no whit less my debt to you ! You dear, 
kind, sweet, glorious friend of friends, I thank you, — oh, how I 
thank you — " 

As blank .disappointment blurred her face like a mask, she, 
too, rose, — with a hauteur appalling him. 

"Thanks from you are gratuitous," she emphasized, with 
cruel scorn. "The Pioneer is identified with the Raymond 
name. For my own sake, I have no choice but to rescue it, at 
any cost, from even vicarious dishonor. As you know, Colonel 
Pearson is not a man of great wealth; and of course I was 
unaware that Mr. Dawson had assumed his obligations. Since 
I am anticipated, I regret to have troubled you unnecessarily. 
As you remarked, the hour is late. Good-night ! " 

But as she would have passed him, he impeded her way. 
His breath came in gasps. The color flooding his face pulsed 
like visible heart-beats. In that moment of sudden shock and 
shame, it seemed to Joyce that he had received his heart- stab, — 
his death-blow ! So Imogen, too, condemned him ! 

"You believe that the Pioneer has been dishonored by 
me ? " he panted. " Yet only a moment ago you declared 
Miss Broderick's censure unreasonable ! Could censure go fur- 
ther than the accusation you have implied, Mrs. Raymond? 



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I04 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [April, 

Personally, I should scorn to defend myself or my honor to 
you. But as associated with the Pioneer — " 

As her eyes fell before his, he ascribed her averted glance 
to disdain. Yet he spoke on with proud persistence. 

"Your concern for the Pioneer is quite natural," he ad- 
mitted, bitterly. " But pray comfort yourself with the assur- 
ance that the editor and the speculator are two distinct figures. 
The Pioneer has in common with the Pioneer Mine only its 
name, — the common property of a thousand Western enter- 
prises. It advertised the mine, yes; but so did the Scout^ — 
likewise every other journal on the coast. The single mention 
I gave it, was neither more nor less than the current compli- 
ment by which the press ordinarily recognizes all big adver- 
tisers. If the Scout distorts truth, am / responsible for the 
libel which already is cutting its throat? Was my fight for 
myself, when I forced its lies back to it ? No ; but as the 
press of to-morrow will prove to you, — for the Raymond name, 
for the Colonel, for the Pioneer/ I carried the boys with me, 
till they hissed the Scout, and cheered the Pioneer/ Not to 
redeem, — since to redeem the uncompromised is an impossi- 
bility, — but to confirm the unblemished honor of the Pioneer^ — 
was my voluntary final service to it; — a service beyond the 
power of all your wealth to accomplish ! Now, Mrs. Raymond, 
' good-night,' indeed ! My farewells to Mam'selle and Miss 
Broderick ! " 

He was reaching the door as her voice recalled him. It 
was so tender, so tremulous, that his heart alone heard it. 
*' Joyce / " was all that Imogen said. But love's language is 
limited. As he turned, he saw tears in her eyes. 

"Oh, I have wounded you," he cried, with swift repent- 
ance. " To give you pain, you, who have all my grati- 
tude,— " 

" I am tired of your gratitude," she objected, passionately. 
" I abhor the word. It offends me. It — ^hurts me — " 

The bright tears brimmed over. Joyce watched her incredu- 
lously. Such proud eyes, such cold eyes, — to weep! 

" I was bitter in words, Joyce," she confessed, with appeal- 
ing penitence. — "only because I was disappointed, — so cruelly 
disappointed ! I thought that at last — I had found something — 
to live for ! And to have it — all at once — snatched away — " 

" You f " he exclaimed, in amazement " Why, of all women 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 105 

living, surely your life is most full and rich, — most brilliant, 
most beautiful — " 

** ' Full ' of emptiness," she interrupted, with plaintive eyes 
fixed upon him ; " ' rich ' in the husks that starve womanhood, 
whose life is the heart-life : — * brilliant ' with the surface-bril- 
liance of smiles lip-deep only : * beautiful ' with the mocking 
beauty that masks disillusion ! — My life ' full ' ? — oh, — the satire ! 
'Fuir of— what?" 

Her voice, low yet impassioned, thrilled like passionate 
music. Mam'selle stirred in her chair, and sighed softly. 

" Mrs. Raymond. — " he began, helplessly. What to say, what 
not to say, — seemed a delicate question. 

" Call me Imogen," she pleaded, softly. " The mask is off, 
Joyce, — the social mask, — just for an hour ! For to-night, just 
to-night, we are real man and woman. By to-morrow we shall 
have forgotten, — or remembrance, at most, will mean laughter! 
But to-night, let me forget — help me to forget — " 

" Whatf* he questioned breathlessly. Her spell was upon 
him. He felt like one drifting — drifting — 

" That I stand alone, I, a woman : — that the conventions 
imprison me, — that the world's ethics insulate me from the simplic- 
ity, the sweetness, the activity of woman-life happy in its per- 
sonal freedom, happier still in its privilege of elective affinity, — 
in its birthright of human love, — " 

Her flush deepened. Her eyes flamed. Her words flashed 
upon him from her anguish, her anger. 

" You have called me ' Queen Imogen ' in your thoughts ! " 
she reminded him. " Has it never occurred to you, then, that 
the queen is but a woman ? I abdicate my throne. I am 
weary of gilded loneliness ! Yet what is the future of the 
queen deposed? My chance to live actively, to expend intelli- 
gently, to taste the rare sweetness of a labor of love, already is 
anticipated by a man, — a mere stranger! Like all other things 
under the sun, wealth is for man, not for woman. The rich 
woman is the jest of the gods." 

Joyce's incredulity was evident. Imogen smiled through her 
tears. The illusions, the young ingenuousness of him, entranced 
her. 

"Think, for instance, of the difference," she suggested, sig- 
niflcantly, " if you commanded a fortune — as large as mine ! " 

"At my present dead-broke moment, don't ask me to think 



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I06 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [April, 

of it," he jested, in his desire to cheer her. " It is cruelty — 
heartless cruelty to the human animal ! *' 

"What a 4iffcrence it would make in your future," she per- 
sisted, dreamily. "How indulgently men would judge you I 
What a position you would command, — ^what a seat with the 
mighty ! To see the world, — for you — would be to conquer it, 
like a son of Caesar! Nothing human you could not do, — few 
things in the world beyond your possession ! What a beautiful 
dream, — were it true ! " 

He drew a sharp breath. For an instant she tempted him. 
But he had met life and death face to face, heart to heart ; and 
material ambitions were subjugated. 

" Do you wish — that the dream — might come true, Joyce ? " 
she asked him. Her voice trembled. It was a question of destiny. 

"Oh, I'm not so sure, — not to-night," he hesitated after a 
brief space, absently. He was thinking what • a strange mood 
possessed Queen Imogen. "Of course you know that in the 
past I have been all too keen after wealth; but to-night the 
gilt edge seems worn off a bit ! " 

"That will pass," she said, wise in her generation. 

" God forbid ! " he said, earnestly. The possibility was a 
pain to him. " To forget the despair of a brother — " 

"Then you will esteem wealth in future only for the sake 
of — your brother ? " There was the satire of amused doubt in 
the incredulity of her voice. Something in Joyce shouldered 
arms, and defied her. 

"At least," he answered, "I shall realize that I am my 
brother's keeper ! " 

She shrugged her shoulders lightly, in superior tolerance. 
Yet she humored his mood. She had no choice. 

" It will be a long struggle," she murmured, sympathetically, 
her thoughtful face turned towards the fire. " Have you realized 
that self-amassed fortune necessarily comes late in life, — that 
meantime, all you might be doing — must be undone ? " 

" Of course ! But that — is the penalty of my sin ! " 

"Is it?" 

Her vivid color retreated. Of a sudden she was startlingly 
pale and rigid. Her lips were dry, her voice oddly tense and 
unresonant. 

" Suppose I could show you — a shorter cut to your goal,— 
would you take it?" she questioned, desperately. 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 107 

He hesitated, his eyes scanning her averted face. To wound 
her again seemed a graceless cruelty; yet he must stand against 
what he suspected she had in view, — ^the veiled benefaction of 
a lucrative sinecure. 

" There are few advantages a man can owe to a woman of 
wealth," — he said, finally, "without losing his claim to her 
respect." 

His answer, not unexpected, yet humiliated and hurt her! 
To have tempted him vainly, — oh, the shame of it! Disown- 
ing the unshed tears still in her eyes, she flashed him a brilliant 
smile. 

" What have I told you, but that wealth walls in a woman 
from human things," she taunted. " Well, I accept my fate ! 
Rest assured that my first tears shall be my last ! In the 
future, as in the past, I shall live — and die, — laughing ! " 

Her laughter was sadder than any tears. She was so 
young, — and so. unhappy! 

" From what are you debarred ? " he demanded, almost 
sternly. All at once it seemed contemptible to him that she 
should mourn ov6r at crumpled rose-leaf, while real troubles, 
tragfic troubles, tortured the world. 

"Only from such use of my wealth as would bring me per- 
sonal happiness," she jested, bitterly. " Only, for instance, 
among other feminine trifles, from the illusion of — human love ! " 

" Love ? Why, you, — you have been so beloved always — " 

" Is love passive — or active ? " she interrupted, curtly. 

His thought reverted to his suspicion that she had never 
loved Raymond. He pitied, yet blamed her. What could he 
say ? 

" I am so sorry, — "he began. 

" I reject your pity." 

"I am so sorry, I say, — " he repeated, masterfully. 

" Words, words, words ! " 

" Let me prove them by deeds ! If any service of mine — " 

"I decline your service." 

"Yet you asked it in the past, when I was not free! May 
I make amends now, — with all my heart?" 

She traced the rug-pattern with restless foot, evading his 
eyes, — failing to answer him. 

"I understand," he said sadly, after a moment. "You trust 
me no longer. My God 1 " 



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I08 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [April, 

He was turning away, when her trembling hands detained 
him. Their mute plea was pathetic. He could not resist it. 
Gently he pressed them between his palms. 

" Come nearer to the fire," he urged. " Let me waken 
Mam'selle. You are cold, — you are ill, — " 

" No, — I am only distressed that you should misunderstand 
me — so cruelly ! " 

" You do trust me, then ? " he asked with sensitive eagerness. 

She swayed forward, as her almost inaudible answer panted 
to him. 

"Joyce, Joyce, I trust you so perfectly, — ^that the half-trust 
has become a pain, an impossibility ! I must trust you alto- 
gether, — or not at all." 

He was puzzled, perplexed. His fair brows knit thought- 
fully. There was something about this new Imogen that be- 
wildered and baffled him. 

" But of course you must trust me altogether," he replied, 
impatiently. 

"You do not know — what you are asking!" she breathed, 
rather than uttered. 

" What am I asking ? " 

" Nothing ! " she moaned. " Nothing ! Nothing ! Nothing ! " 

Was it her voice, or her face, that told Joyce her secret ? 

" Imogen, Imogen ! " he cried, dazed between doubt and 
conviction. Then impassioned silence palpitated between them. 

The ticking clock, and the crackling flames, — the monoto- 
nous sounds seemed to Imogen, eternal! The suspense thrill- 
ing Joyce with delirious rapture, was her exquisite suffering, 
her consummate torture! She had done what never could be 
undone, — humiliated herself, — revealed herself, almost avowed 
herself, — to what end ? Did Joyce love her ? Or did he not 
love her? 

Soft shudders of womanly shame and fear, subtly blended 
with exultation, quivered ^^through her. Her sweet tremor 
against him touched Joyce inexpressibly. Yet even as he felt 
himself moved, he resisted her. He must waken from this 
dream, — break its spell, defy its illusion ! He must face man's 
real life, poor, obscure. 

But the vision of ambitions fulfilled beyond his maddest 
hopes, tempted his eyes from the bleak vista of honor ! The 
world's glory, the pride of manhood, the pleasures of sense, 



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1903. Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 109 

the exaltation of self through the human omnipotence only 
great wealth boasts, — all flashed in dazzling succession within 
his gn'asp, even as Imogen's intimate charm grew upon him. 
Inevitably he became conscious, — exquisitely conscious in every 
masculine fibre, — of the sweet mass of her hair, the smooth 
bloom of her skin, the perfumed lace of her gown, the caress 
of her touch. The fastidious luxury of her perfectly cultured 
beauty encompassed and bewildered him. For a moment his 
brain whirled. But by a mighty eflFort he recovered himself. 

"Imogen, listen," he said, lifting her face with a hand firm 
rather than tender. "For one delirious moment I have been 
mad enough to forget my circumstances. Every dollar — and 
even my position, — are swept away in an hour. I am flung 
back to the starting place, to begin life all over ! I shall win 
the world yet; but until then — " 

She made no answer, but her hands still clung to him, 
clung to him — in woman-love's mutely eloquent way. 

" Dear," he struggled, casting oflF all chivalrous pretence, — '' 
" you make it so cruelly, so needlessly hard for me ! Can a 
man be a parasite, — to take all — and give — nothing — " 

" Nothing," she echoed to the fire. " Life, youth, happi- 
ness, love, — all ' nothing ! ' " 

"Imogen, Imogen, do not keep me," he cried, wildly, 
" Dear, let me kiss your hand, — and go ! " 

Her lips against his own were her triumphant answer. 

" Stay," she whispered. And the last word — the conclu- 
sive word — is the woman's ! 

Something fell at Joyce's feet, as at last he yielded. But 
his eyes, glowing upon Imogen, missed the little episode. 

Only Gladys' colors, — her violets, crumpled and wilted: — 

Yet the future was to prove them immortelles ! 

(to be continued.) 




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A 



^ ^ IDiews anb 1Re\>!ew8. ^ ^cf 



1. — Mr. Edward Howard Griggs has given us what he has 
called -4 Book of Meditations.* He is an observer who deserves 
well of those who, being distressed with the vulgarities and mate- 
rialism of modern life, betake themselves to the things^of the spirit. 
It is much for one in these externally brilliant days to learn for 
himself the lesson that it is in the cultivation of the spiritual 
sense that we shall come to the true worth and merit of human 
life. Mr. Griggs has taken hold of this truth, but it is a ques- 
tion whether or not he has tasted or relished its sweetness. 
Perhaps if he had, he would manifest to us a little less of the 
temper of Marcus Aurelius ai^d Emerson, and let shine forth 
from these notes and " Meditations " of his something more of 
the humility and candor and simplicity of the author of the 
Imitation. It is distressing to find Mr. Griggs, whose better 
instinct is always spiritual, contenting himself with superficial 
judgments and observations of art which might be picked up 
from the gossips around the Latin Quartier of Paris. If in his 
writing he safeguarded the point of honor and expressed only 
things he has perceived and felt, his style would be true and 
of some distinction, for he has the attributes of tlie gift; he 
does but lack the severity of profound truthfulness. All this is 
pitiful, for Mr. Griggs is needed in these day^. With more 
study, suffering, prayer, and the ignominy of the Cross, and 
Mr. Griggs bids fair to be a serviceable author. 

2. — We have spoken before concerning Mother Juliana's book, 
on occasion of a new edition recently presented to the public. 
The book before usf is a still later edition, gotten out in a 
very neat form, light in weight and plain in type, and prefaced 
with a few pages from Father Tyrrell's pen. The text is some- 
thing to be studied and prayed over and dreamed about. It is 
a mystic's teaching on the soul's growth in the perfect life, full 
of mystery to the uninitiated, rich in doctrine to the pure of 
heart. This is the kind of work that contemporary writers 
never think of presenting to the world ; first, because they 

• A Book of Meditations, By Edward Howard Griggs. New York : B. W. Huebsch. 
t XVI. Revelations of Divine Love Shewed to Mother Juliana of Norwich^ ^373- With a 
preface by George Tyrrell, S.J. London : Kegan Paul, Trench, TrUbner & Co., Ltd. 



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1903.1 VIEIVS AND REVIEWS. Ill 

can't write in that style, and secondly, because the general 
public doesn't read it. But the world is all the worse off for 
this; and the hope we cherish of a wide- spread and deeper 
growth of true spirituality prompts the wish that an ever-increas- 
ing number of readers will be found to appreciate such books as 
that now before us. 

3. — Seldom have we read the life of a more noble, self-sacrific- 
ing soul than Prince Demetrius Gallitzin, the pioneer priest. of 
the AUeghanys.* In 1792, at twenty-two years of age, he set 
out from Germany to visit the United States. Seeing th^ great 
need of priests here, he resolved to renounce all claim to his 
title and inheritance in order to become a poor missionary of 
the Cross of Christ. He was ordained by Bishop Carroll in 
1795, and at once began his priestly labors among the German 
Catholics in Baltimore. 

In 1799 Gallitzin set out, with a few followers, to found a 
new community in the West. The spot chosen was Loretto, 
Pa., where he was destined to labor faithfully for forty years, 
and to find his final resting place. His noble mother, the 
Princess Gallitzin, is no less deserving our admiration than her 
son. No more inspiring biography could be read. 

4. — Miss Marion J. Brunowe has done most creditable work in 
her many books for boys and girls. Another edition of the 
Sealed Packet \ has just appeared. This story is written par- 
ticularly for girls, but boys figure in it also in no unimportant 
way, so that brothers as well as sisters will be interested by it. 
The volume, with its happy, simple style, its intimate knowl- 
edge of children's characters, of girls, particularly the bright 
and honest girl, the peevish and the selfish one, its sustaining 
and fascinating interest, has been known for some years to the 
American public. Like the other volumes from Miss Brunowe's 
pen it has been well received, and we feel that it merits the 
chronicling of that fact here. The author is one of the writers 
popular to-day among the young folks. Last year when Mr. 
Bostwick, chief of the Circulation Department of the New York 
Public Library, sought to know the children's favorite authors 
through the votes of the children themselves, only two living 

* A Royal Son and Mother. By the Baroness Pauline Von Htigel. Notre Dame, Ind. : 
The Ave Maria — Loretto Press. 

t The Staled Packet, By Marion J. Brunowe. Philadelphia: H. L. Kihier & Co. 



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112 VIEIVS AND REVIEWS. [April, 

American Catholic authors found place on the list; namely. 
Father Finn, S.J., and Miss Marion Brunowe. 

The Cathedral Library Association announces for early pub- 
lication another work of the same author, The Girlhood of Our 
Lady, 

6. — The Arthur H. Clark Publishing Company is bringing 
out a series of sixteen volumes written by Archer Butler Hul- 
bert, on the historic highways of America.* The first of the 
set is before us, a study of the paths of the mound-builders, 
and of the courses of the great buffalo-herds that ranged over 
two-thirds of the territory of the present United States. Judg- 
ing from this volume, the series will be of great use to geogra- 
phers, historians, and students of American antiquities. It is 
somewhat unfortunate, in our opinion, that these books are 
sold only by the set. This is an arrangement which will prevent 
the more useful of the series from coming into the hands of a 
great many students. 

6. — Dr. Baldwin divides his manual f into two parts. Prose 
Composition and Prose Diction; the first being subdivided into 
Logical Composition and Literary Composition. The treatise 
on Logical Composition, which includes a discussion of expo- 
sition and persuasion, might well be called applied logic, as it 
takes the rules of logic and shows their utility and value as 
applied in composition. This manner of treating logic and 
rhetoric at one and the same time, by embodying the rules of 
the former in the study of the latter, should make both studies 
more practical to the average student than the old way of 
studying each subject separately; in the many examples, given 
he perceives how, and why, he should use his powers of rea- 
soning in all forms of writing. The second division treats of 
the elements of Literary Composition, and especially narration 
and description, in a very instructive and interesting manner. 

The second part of the book is devoted to Prose Diction. 
Usage and Style are the subjects, and under these are discussed 
Originality, Elegance, Directness or Force, the Balance of Ele- 
gance and Force in Classic Prose, and likewise the necessity 

* Historic Highways of America. Volume the First: Paths of the Mound-Building Indians 
and Great Game Animals. By Archer [Butler Hulbert. Cleveland : The Arthur H. Clark 
Company. 190a. 

\A College Manual of Rhetoric, By Charles Sears Baldwin, assistant professor of rhetoric 
in Yale University. 



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1903.] Views and Reviews. 113 

and value of Harmony and Sincerity are shown. It seems 
rather regrettable that Dr. Baldwin did not think it necessary 
to enter more into the details of these subjects. 

An appendix of two hundred pages devoted to notes, ex- 
amples, specimens, and references is a most valuable addition 
to the book. The selections throughout the whole work, and 
particularly the longer selections of the appendix — e.^-., Cardinal 
Newman's Description of Literature, Alice Meynell's Symmetry 
and Incident — show the author's excellent judgment and catho- 
licity of taste. While the manual is admirably adapted for the 
purpose intended by Dr. Baldwin, namely, for use as a college 
rhetoric, yet, owing to the clearness and preciseness with which 
its subjects have been treated, it may be used advantageously 
by those who must study English privately. To such it will 
prove as good a substitute as we know for the explanations of 
an expert teacher. 

7. — ^The two little scientific text books named below • are pos- 
sessed of various qualifications that recommend them to the 
teacher, and though in a new edition each, perhaps, may be 
somewhat more perfectly adapted for practical use, yet as they 
stand they are well worth a careful examination. The Zoology 
is intended to introduce the pupils of secondary schools to the 
study of animals, and it seems to represent both a student's 
knowledge of the subject and a teacher's experience of practical 
instruction. We consider it a defect, 'however — and not a slight 
one — that these pages contain so little in the shape of diagrams 
and plates. 

The Laboratory Manual is a triumph of condensation. It 
might be improved, perhaps, if the divisions were more clearly 
defined, but after all this is scarcely more than an inconvenience. 
But we do wish that those who have prepared this book had 
not perpetuated a time-honored blunder by copying down the 
specific heat of hydrogen as 3.409. A moment's attention 
would give one to understand that the figure is wrong and that 
the 3 should be zero. 

8. — Our readers have made up their mind long ago as to 

• Studies in Zoology. By James A. Merrill. Laboratory Manual of Physics. By Henry C. 
Cbeston, Philip R. Dean, and Charles E. Timmerman. New York, Cincinnati, Chicago : 
American Book Company. 

VOL. LXXVII.— 8 



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114 Views and Reviews. [April, 

whether or not Max O'Rell is entertaining. To those who have 
decided in the affirmative we beg leave to recommend his latest 
book,* with the ungrammatical title given, as the author lets us 
know, in defiance of the protest of a friend absolutely destitute 
of humor. The book is made up of a series of running com- 
ments upon men and women, shrewd, good-naturedly cynical, 
and in some measure instructive. The critic may say they arc 
very light and almost superficial; probably the author would 
allow that they are meant to be. But if you are anything of 
an observer, if you relish a hit at the foibles of your neighbor, 
if you are willing to laugh now and again at your own expense, 
then you will be pleased at the chapters headed "Concerning 
Women." You will hear about The Man all Women Like, and 
The Women Whom Men Do Not Like; you will be told how 
to ascertain The Character of Your Future Wife and What to 
Avoid in Matrimonial Life; and in a rollicking jocular vein 
you will be so eflfectively enlightened upon various psychologi- 
cal mysteries that you will conclude Max . 0*Rell has studied 
the fair sex very closely and very successfully. And what he 
says is n't all joking. Some readers may be saved trouble if 
they give the author's theories a chance. The book is full of 
quotable things, but let us be content with the following ran- 
dom selections: 

** Burn your love letters, is a piece of advice that has been 
often given to both men and women. And I will ask permis- 
sion to add : ' Never write love letters, ... let your let- 
ters be temperate, almost cold; ... if you have anything 
pressing to tell her, send a telegram.' " 

The chapter called " A Lexicon of Love " is good. The 
author — and he should know — tells us that " ' I will love you 
eternally ' signifies ' My love for you will continue as long as it 
lasts.' " '' A man has his senses never more about him than 
when a woman says to him * Are you mad ? ' " 

Here are some more : " Don't tell fibs to your wife. 
Never attempt to teach a monkey how to make faces." " If 
girls who want to marry, only knew what qualities and attain- 
ments sensible men generally require in their wives, they would 
use much less powder and shot and proceed in quite a differ- 
ent way. . . ." 

^^TweenYoMOM* I: Some Little^ Problems of Life. By Max G'Rell. Boston: Lothrop 
Publishing Company. 



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1903.] Views and Reviews. 115 

9, — Lady Amabel Kerr's recent novel • is probably the best 
piece of fiction that has come from her pen. Its main in- 
terest lies in a series of mixed marriages which furnishes a 
powerful setting of incident, and gives occasion for the inculca- 
tion, in a striking manner, of* the Catholic position as to these 
unions. The book is full of vigor, the narrative is quick in 
movement, the situations are often of thrilling interest, and the 
controversial dialogue is done with a hand of rare skill. It is 
truly a fine bit of literary craft and deserves a highly credita- 
ble place among Catholic novels of recent years. 

10. — From the point of view of technique Mark Lee Luther's 
novel t is an achievement worthy of a high place in recent 
literature, especially in that department of it led by The 
Honorable Peter Stirling. It is a fascinating political study, 
admirably written, full of life and ,vigor, to which the author 
has brought a consummate knowledge of politics and its ways. 
It is seriously marred, however, by the introduction of a love 
affair not in the least honorable. It may be that such affairs 
are not uncommon accompaniments of a political life, but we 
question the propriety of bringing this one into a work other- 
wise so splendidly done. 

U. — An excellent judgment on the poems of Sliav-na-mon J is 
that expressed in the preface- by William O'Brien : " Nobody 
can well read his verses without feeling a breath of healthy air 
pass through the lungs, and a pleasant twitching at the heart 
such as affects one who in dreams, in a distant clime, hears the 
sound of the chapel bell of his young days floating on his 
ears." This power of transporting us to the scene of his verse, 
and of transforming us from critical sceptics of a sordid city to 
reverent lovers of the deep romance that dwells in every valley 
and on every hill of Erin, our young author possesses in almost 
a masterful measure. He is so consistently true to the Irish 
spirit as the source of his inspiration and the theme of his song, 
he voices so spontaneously the burden of Irish legend and the 
moods of Irish hearts, that his very sincerity wins us to his 

• The Whole Difference, By Lady Amabel Kerr. St. Louis : B. Herder, 
t The Henchman. By Mark Lee Luther. New York : The Macmillan Company. 
% Irish Mist and Sunshine. Ballifds and Lyrics. By Rev. James B. Dollard (Sliav-na-mon). 
Boston : Charles £. Peabody Company. 



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ii6 Views and Reviews, [April, 

music, and for the time we forget the sad work of the centuries, 
and are back with an olden bard in an olden country and atn 
olden time. It takes power and personality to achieve this — 
and power and personality stand out clear from Father Bollard's 
verse. He must work for perfection in expression; he must 
bear the weight of sleepless labor until his poetical form is the 
very best, and then he will hand to posterity a name that 
generations will honor. 

12. — Mr. Coleman's volume of poems • is deserving of encour- 
agement and praise. A deep and tender religious spirit, a fervid 
sympathy with all peoples struggling against oppression, and a 
love of the warmest for the green isle of the Celt, — these are 
the characteristics of the little collection, and assuredly they 
indicate a noble and heroic inspiration. As to the technical 
form of poetic expression, Mr. Coleman's phrasing is often 
felicitous and striking. He displays a native ability in rhyme 
and rhythm that is full of promise. But it is in this difficult 
department of the poet's af-t that we urge him to be most 
studious. Let him cultivate energetically, laboriously, and per- 
severingly those singers who have lent to English meter a 
charm surpassed in no literature of the world ; let him discipline 
his taste to that fine sensitiveness to perfect form which is the 
passion of the true artist, and he will some day win distinction. 
To give one's self to austere application, to be relentlessly ex- 
acting in cleaving to a perfect ideal, to be merciless in excising, 
transforming, and destroying whatsoever falls noticeably short 
of that ideal, — this is the pain and the premium, the despair 
and the joy, the menial toil and the princely splendor, awaiting 
him who would be a priest of Poetry in these modern days. 

13. — In The Art of Disappearing \ a young blue- blood from 
Boston, Horace Endicott, finding his wife faithless, instead of 
divorcing her, resolves to punish her by disappearing, after 
having disposed of all his property. Acting on a suggestion 
derived from a Catholic priest, and through his co-operation, 
Horace Endicott turns up in New York as Arthur Dillon, the 

• A Martyr of the Mohawk Valley, and Other Poems. By P. J. Coleman. New York : 
The Messenger Press. 

iThe Art of Disappearing, By John Talbot Smith*. New York: William H.Young 
& Co. 



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1903.] V/EfVS AND REVIEWS. II7 

long-absent son of a worthy Irishwoman. He soon finds him- 
self launched into '' politics " under the auspices of Tammany 
Hall. Arthur's gradual change under his new environment ; his 
successful efforts to elude his wife and her detectives; the 
intrigues of anti- Catholic bigots; some municipal and a little 
national politics; the versatilities of a lady who simultaneously 
plays the role of a ballet-dancer, a detective's wife, an escaped 
nun lecturing on the public platform, and a sick sister from the 
West enjoying the hospitality of a local convent, are woven 
with considerable dramatic skill into a story so rapid in action 
and varied interest that the amused reader is Carried along 
without being left leisure enough to criticise. When the hero, 
whose wife still lives, falls in love with a Catholic girl, the 
author presses into his service the Pauline privilege in order to 
give the story a satisfactory ending. As he might just as easily 
have killed off the inconvenient wife, we presume that it has 
been his intention to give his readers some help in repelling the 
charge made against the church that, notwithstanding her pro- 
fessions, she does after all sanction the marriage of divorced 
persons — sometimes. Although there may be something justi- 
fiable in this motive, still the introduction of the topic is 
open to fair criticism. And certainly, when he did broach the 
subject. Dr. Smith ought to have explained much more thoroughly 
than he has done, all the conditions exacted by the church in 
recurrence to this plea for dispensation. His readers are very 
likely to receive from him the false impression that this way of 
escape from an unhappy marriage is widely available and in- 
vitingly easy. 

14 — The first volume* of the long-looked-for work of Dr. 
Bardenhewer on the history of early Christian literature has 
appeared from the house of Herder. We hardly need to say 
that it is a work of excefptional critical value. Dr. Barden- 
hewer*s name alone is enough to show that. Placed alongside 
the great production of Harnack, this monument of Catholic 
scholarship suffers in no way from the contrast. Its wide range 
of patrological erudition, its cautious application of the best 
principles of modern criticism, its priceless bibliographical ap- 
pendices, and its deep Catholic conviction that the literature of 

* GeschichU eUr Altkinhlic/un LiUeratur, Von Otto Bardenhewer. Erster Band. Frei- 
burg im Breisgau : Herdersche Verlagshandlung (St. Louis, Mo.) 190a. 



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ii8 V/Eivs AND Reviews. [April, 

the early church is a living witness to revealed dogma, make 
the work the most finished product of Catholic science that 
has appeared thus far in the new century, and give promise 
that it will long be recognized as a court of final reference in 
its special province. A priest or educated layman who would 
set himself to the study of such a volume would derive from 
it a profound knowledge of ancient Christian history, and a 
sane appreciation of modem historical criticism. The sixty- two 
pages of Einleiiung are not surpassed in value by any other 
section of this volume. They give a sketch of patristic his- 
toriography down to our own day, contain precious directions 
as to methods of study and works of reference, and above all 
they have a carefully elaborated conception of the nature of 
early Christian literature. It is in the course of this last that 
Dr. Bardenhewer displays the firm Catholic conviction of which 
we have spoken. His uncompromising words may be shown in 
a phrase or two. He says: "Die Patrologie ist eine spezifisch 
katholische Disziplin. Das Wort Patrologie hat einen spezifisch 
katholischen Klang. Es ist dem Glaubensbewusstsein ent- 
sprungen welches die Protestanten aus dem katholischen Mut- 
terhause mitnahmen in die Fremde." In the spirit here indi- 
cated, and certainly it is the true spirit for such a subject, the 
author constructs his entire work. The present volume ends 
with the close of the second century. Consequently its con- 
tents are perhaps greater in importance than any other patris- 
tic period can furnish. The Apostolic Symbol, the Didache» 
Clement, Ignatius, Polycarp, the Apologists, the Gnostic, anti- 
Gnostic and Apocryphal literature — what studies of primitive 
Christianity can equal these? We trust that Dr. Bardenhewer 
will be spared until the remaining volumes of his great life- 
work shall have appeared. And in conclusion we congratulate 
the Herder Company on the beautiful appearance in which the 
book has come out. Such fine work impresses one anew with 
the great truth that a good publisher is the scholar's right 
hand. 

16. — Cardinal Hergenrother's Manual of Church History* is 
probably one of the best ever written by a Catholic — at least it 

* Joseph Kardinal Hergenrother* s Handbuch der allgemeinen Kirchen^eschichU. Vierte 
Auflage, neu bearbeitet von Dr. J. B. Kirsch. Erster Band. Saec. I.-VI. Freiburg im 
Breisgau : Herdersche Verlagshandlung (St. Louis, Mo.) 1902. 



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1903.] V/EIVS AND REVIEWS, 1 19 

shares that distinction with the works of Alzog and Franz Xaver 
Kraus. Accordingly we welcome a new edition brought out 
under the expert supervision of Dr. Kirsch. This first volume 
is a noble book. Its exterior appearance is of the finest, and 
it is fortified with references, a copious index, and an admirable 
map, which add a new lustre to the treasure that we have known 
for a generation. There could be no better book on the desk of 
a student or on the shelves of a school. 

16. — Those who know Abbe Vacandard's reputation as the 
historian of St. Bernard and his times will hail with pleasure 
these two brochures • from his pen upon the Sacrament of 
Penance and its development in the early church — an historical 
question of no little interest and around which quite an exten- 
sive literature has sprung up. He carries these studies no far- 
ther than the fourth century, and the last Fathers he cites are 
St Augustine, St. Innocent I., and, by exception, St. Leo the 
Great. His method throughout is strictly historical, and he is 
never tempted to have recourse to unsound theological argu- 
ments when confronted with difficulties. It goes without saying 
that these contributions on the subject are most valuable, and 
deserve the attention of students of history generally and of the 
history of dogma in particular. 

17 — A recent contribution to that invaluable collection, 
" Science et Religion," is a brochure t by a Capuchin Father upon 
the modern scientific explanation of certain quasi- miraculous phe- 
nomena. Evidently the writer has been well prepared for the 
task here undertaken; he is familiar with the science involved 
and he has carefully thought over the facts bearing upon the 
matter. Hence no surprise will be occasioned at his differing 
in his conclusions from those estimable men who have pro- 
nDunced upon the essentially diabolical character of various 
phenomena without having taken the trouble either to investi- 
gate them, or to master the branch of physics connected there- 
with. Two reflections occur to us as we read, both of them 
bearing directly upon religious issues of no small importance. 

*La PinUtnce PudHque dans V^glise Primitive. Par M. I'Abbd E. Vacandard. La Con- 
ftssicn Sacramentelte dans I'Aglise Primitive. Par M. TAbW E. Vacandard. Paris : Librairie 
Blond et Cie. 

t La Science de r Invisible ou Le Merveilleux et la Science Modeme. (Science et Religion.) 
Par R. P. Hilaire dc Barenton, O.M.Cap. Paris: Librairie Blond et Cie. 



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I20 Views and Reviews. [April, 

We perceive that an alteration must take place in the once 
conventional theological standards of measurement for the pre- 
ternatural. Again, we are led to hope that scepticism and 
materialism will appeal less and less to intelligent men, in pro- 
portion as they become better acquainted with the amazingly 
limited range of our knowledge as compared with all that 
there is to be known; men should grow less ready with ofTen- 
sive scoffs at the existence of mysteries as they come to appre- 
ciate what Father Tyrrell calls "the confinement of the human 
race to what is relatively a momentary existence on a whirling 
particle of dust in a sandstorm." 

We recommend the present brochure to our readers very 
earnestly ; they will find in it what is not at all usual — a state- 
ment of some most amazing but well-authenticated facts and a 
strictly scientific discussion of them in the light of recently dis- 
covered physical laws, and all from the pen of a man whose 
signature stands for uncompromising faith in whatever pertains 
to Catholic belief Very recently, new writers have added 
their names to the list of those who defend the view proposed 
by P. Franco, S.J. — the hypothesis that one of his confreres 
called the '* devil-everywhere-theory." P. de Barenton's pam- 
phlet will serve to more than offset these misfortunes. 

Perhaps some of our readers may be curious to know the 
precise phenomena considered by our author. They are chiefly 
these: ist. A young Syrian girl of Beyrout, fifteen years old 
and a pious Catholic, sees through earth or stone with perfect 
ease, and has been of great service in revealing the location of 
subterranean water- courses. 2d. Fr^re Arconce, of the Petits- 
Freres de Marie, has discovered more than 1,300 sources of 
water by means of an iron rod, and recently, having been sum- 
moned to Rome by Mgr. Gracci, repeated the phenomenon 
there, and was made the subject of a report to the Pontifical 
Scientific Academy. 3d. A universally accepted fact is the 
ability of the Spanish Zaboris to see through opaque substances 
— e,g.t into the interior of the human body, or to a depth of 
thirty feet underground. 

In discussing these curious physical phenomena the author 
presents us with a well compressed treatise on the Roentgen 
and allied rays of light ordinarily imperceptible to the normal 
eye. He shows by a table that no substances are absolutely 
opaque, each being penetrable by some one of the sets of rays 



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1903.] Views and Reviews, 121 

now known to science. Normal ittsensibility to these rays must 
be ascribed not to the retina — Which seems really to detect 
them when in contact — but to the defective transparency of the 
crystalline lens. The brochure discusses the possibility of our 
sometime coming at a means of rendering all these rays per- 
ceptible by means of instruments. 

18. — It is with a feeling of pleasure that we take occasion to 
recommend to our readers the work of Professor Ramsay on 
the credibility of St. Luke's account of the Nativity.* Profes- 
sor Ramsay's name is known to every living student of Chris- 
tian origins. His works on the relation of the early church to 
the Roman State, and on the life of St. Paul, have placed his 
reputation so high that few scholars in his department of 
research are equal to him. But it is on the little book 
we are now reviewing that rest his fairest fame, and his 
unquestioned right to the veneration of the Christian world. 
Every one is aware that it has been the fashion from long past 
in critical circles to despise the historical value of St. Luke's 
writings. Both in the third Gospel and in the Acts — so we 
have been and still are eruditely informed — Luke is guilty of 
an entire lack of the historical sense, and passes before us 
under the guise of authentic fact what modern scholarship has 
demonstrated to be empty report, downright contradiction, and 
patent impossibility. And his blunder of blunders, so runs on 
the impeachment, is his account of the Saviour's nativity. He 
tells us of an enrollment made under Augustus, when as 
Gardthausen, the great authority on Augustus, assures us, such 
an enrollment never existed, and would have been futile if it 
had. Secondly, even on the supposition of an imperial census, 
Palestine, being an independent though tributary state, would 
have been excluded from it. And finally, even granting a 
Palestinian census, the alleged journey from Nazareth to Beth- 
lehem would have been entirely against Ron^an usage, which 
numbered people, as we do, in their own homes. 

The case against St Luke seemed apparently to have 
strength. Professor Ramsay takes issue with this prevalent 
criticism, utterly demolishes it, and demonstrates the thesis he 
has upheld for years, that St. Luke is one of the most reliable 

• Was Christ Bom at Bethlehem f A Study on the Credibility of St. Luke. By W. M. 
Ramsay. New York : G. P. Putnam's Sons. 



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122 VIEIVS AND REVIEWS. [April, 

historians and careful chroniclers we can read. Recent dis- 
coveries of enrollment lists in Egypt show the periodical cen- 
sus-taking of the Roman emperors; an investigation of the 
official states of tributary countries like Palestine proves that 
they were bound to observe these enrollments ; and, finally, the 
whole history of Herod's reign assures tis that he would almost 
certainly order his subjects to be numbered in the Hebraic 
manner of tribal connection, so that the hated Roman . law might 
give them less offence. This tribal enumeration would require 
precisely such a journey to the native city as we see Joseph 
and Mary making from Nazareth to Bethlehem These three 
counter-positions to the critical arguments are established by 
Professor Ramsay with a vast store of learning handled with 
consummate ease. The book is already a classic the world over. 
It has profoundly modified the critical thought of recent years, 
and for many years to come it will be the unrivalled treatise 
in its own sphere. To our readers who engage in such studies 
we highly recommend it. 

19. — A new volume in the Oxford Library of Practical Theo- 
logy, by the Rev. Leighton Pullan, and entitled The Christian 
Tradition,* is in many respects a noteworthy book. It is first of 
all remarkable in the variety of its contents. Its nine chapters 
deal with The New Testament, The Creed, Apostolical Succession, 
Episcopacy, Western Liturgies, Festivals, National Churches, 
Penitence in the Early Church, and Monasticism. Some of 
these topics are treated in a masterly manner. The chapter on 
the New Testament is a fine summary of the main positions 
and of the vital weaknesses in rationalistic criticism. The dis- 
cussion of Episcopacy and Penance presents the classical argu- 
ments for the Catholic position on these doctrines. Indeed, it 
is not difficult to perceive that the author has gone more than 
once to the researches of Roman Catholic scholars; he grate- 
fully acknowledges his indebtedness to Mgr. Batiffol, the rector 
of the Catholic University of Toulouse, whose essay on Penance 
he has largely used. We rejoice to see so much of the book 
uncompromisingly Catholic. The author is an advanced Anglican 
who loves to describe his belief as that of the first six or seven 
ecumenical councils, and consequently that of the undivided 

' • The Christian Tradition. By the Rev. Leighton Pullan. New York : Longmans, Green 
& Co.j 



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1903.] Views and Reviews. 123 

primitive church. Naturally, however, he comes into conflict at 
times with positions dear to Catholics. For instance, speaking 
of the Quartodeciman controversy in the second century, he 
refers to St Irenaeus as rebuking the Roman Bishop, and thus 
proving how in primitive times the successor of St. Peter was 
on a perfect level with his colleagues in the episcopate. The 
action of St. Irenaeus in that dispute was, on the contrary, more 
like that of a suppliant than an indignant remonstrant, and his 
appeal to Pope St. Victor not to excommunicate the Quarto- 
decimans is one of the strongest witnesses to the undisputed 
primacy of Rome even in that very dawning of Christianity. 
The author contends, too, that Roman Catholicism stands to- 
day for undue interference with the privileges and liberties of 
national churches. The precise limits of autonomous action 
within these churches have from the beginning until now formed 
a vexing problem, and rash would he be who would presume to 
give a final and irrevocable solution of it. But it is a problem 
after all of accidentals. Rome as the centre of infallible Chris- 
tian teaching is the main point to be settled, and that clear 
issue should not be clouded with considerations and controversies 
about disciplinary regulations, for these will soon adjust them- 
selves peaceably when once unity in Christ's doctrine has been 
reached. And indeed, on reflection, our author himself, we 
think, would admit that the inconveniences, as he deems them, 
of Papal rule are far preferable to the misfortunes that multiply 
over the head of a Christian communion when it becomes too 
national. Stagnation in the Greek Church and appalling Erastian- 
ism in his own Anglican body, have a more disastrous history 
than can be found in the external government of any national 
church that looks to Rome for guidance. 

We take leave of this book with sincere respect for the 
author's wide learning, tolerant spirit, and love for many things 
which we are one with him in venerating. To meet men like 
him fills the heart with hunger for the Saviour's heavenly ideal, 
"that they may be one as Thou in Me and I in Thee." 

20. — We had already at hand a rather full knowledge of the 
life of Max Miiller, from the reminiscences published in his life- 
time. But most decidedly was there need for the two vol- 
umes * of his letters just brought out under the editorship of 

• Th€ Ufe and Letters of the Right Honorable Max Miiller, Edited by his Wife. 2 vols. 
New York : Longmans, Green & Co. 



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124 V/EIVS AND REVIEWS. [April, 

his wife. There is in these documents of the great scholar's 
intimate life and thought a fascination far surpassing any 
merely biographical interest. In reality these two volumes 
form a fairly complete biography, so well is the disposition 
of the correspondence made, and so good is the running 
sketch of the very capable editor. The early letters tell of 
the heroic struggle made by the young man to secure an 
education and a name despite the obstacle of poverty. The 
letters of his middle life show how wide an influence he exer- 
cised in the world of scholarship. Burnouf, Bunsen, Renan, 
Pusey, Tyndall, Gladstone, and scores of other eminent men in 
school, church, and state corresponded and took counsel with 
him; and that counsel is given with so genial a temper, with 
so warm a human interest, with so clear a personal tone that 
we find ourselves reading at the same time the records of a 
wonderful mind and the sentiments of a tender heart. His let- 
ters to his mother are more than charming; they are edifying. 
Beginning with his first hard struggles, when there were many 
days without a dinner, but never one without hope, these af- 
fectionate notes to the one he loved best continue until her 
death, when his name was known in honor the world over, and 
express throughout the deepest filial solicitude, reverence, and 
devotion. The spirit of his German home and the traditions 
of the Fatherland grew green in his heart to the end. He is 
a typical Teuton. In a kindly but unmistakable manner he 
holds to the superiority of the northern over the southern na- 
tions of Europe, both in general civilization and in religion. 
On this topic he once or twice speaks in a way from which 
Catholics would dissent. 

21, — In the well-known French series of lives of the saints we 
have a new biography • of St Alphonsus. It is a brief sketch 
which vividly presents all the authentic incidents in the life of 
a great servant of God. For ever beautiful and for ever sad 
will be the story of those last terrible trials which beset St. 
Alphonsus in his extreme old age. That story is touchingly 
told here, and of itself would be enough to win many readers 
for this book. There is an attempt to consider the writings of 

• St. AlphoHSi de Lisuori (idgd-iySy). Par le Baron J. Angot des Rotours. Paris : 
Victor Lecoffre. 



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1903.] V/Eivs AND Reviews. 125 

St. Alphonsus, but so brief is the notice that it can hardly be 
called satisfactory. Finally, we must express our regret that 
the author, in his preface, has placed before us as worthy of 
credence the story of the celebrated assemblage of Jansenists 
at Bourgffontaine. It will be remembered that several eminent 
leaders of Jansenism are said to have met at Bourgfontaine in 
162 1 and devised means for the destruction of Catholicity. 
The story has found place in reputable history, but it is too 
improbable to be believed, and weakened by too many decisive 
arguments to be honored at this late day with insertion in a 
serious composition. 

22. — ^The life of St. Philip Neri by Pietro Giacomo Bacci,* 
which was first brought out at Rome in 1837, and ten years later 
translated into English, has just been reissued, in an elaborate 
two-volume edition, under the supervision of Father Antrobus, 
of the London Oratory. St. Philip is esteemed by multitudes 
as the most winning, most lovable, and most wise of all the 
church's canonized heroes. No saint is so well adapted to be 
the patron of the lives of modern men; for none has been so 
devoutly ingenious in devising means for sanctifying the ordi- 
nary avocations of secular activity. We need to know St. 
Philip well. A life of him should both give us the inner 
spirit of the saint, and commend itself to our minds and 
hearts by a sane and sympathetic treatment. We regret to 
say that from this twofold point of view Bacci's Life is a 
failure. The historic position of St. Philip, and his true and 
complete character, are missed in this feeble delineation. And 
from the stand-point of rational piety the work is repulsive. 
We object to nothing in hagiography or in any other ' depart- 
ment of history which has evidence to rest upon. But when 
miracles are accumulated by the hundred, great numbers of 
them puerile and unworthy of a divine Agent, and some of 
them shocking to reverence and delicacy, we strenuously object. 
The Catholic spirit does not require food of such a sort ; on 
the contrary, it finds it revolting. Bacci's book should never 
have been placed before English and American readers. It 

* The Life of St. Philip Neri, From the Italian of Father Bacci. New and Revised 
Edition. Edited by Frederick Ignatius Antrobus. St. Louis: B. Herder. 



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126 V/Eivs AND Reviews. [April, 

was like an impertinence to place it alongside Cardinal 
Capecelatro's still unsurpassed biography. 

23 — Those who revere the memory of the illustrious Bishop 
of Orleans, Mgr. Dupanloup, will be glad to receive this volume 
of extracts from his Journal Intime, • The selections are the 
daily jottings of a man of profound piety. They are entirely 
spiritual, and reveal the inspiring spectacle ,of a man engaged 
in multitudinous labors, far-reaching projects, and historic con- 
troversies, and at the same time looking ever toward interior 
union with Almighty God. Mgr. Dupanloup is a great figure 
in the church history of the last half - century, but greater a 
thousand times is he in this domestic history of his own soul. 
Those who must bear cares and endure opposition in somewhat 
similar way to him will draw the strength of sanctity from these 
simple pages of his hours of prayer. 

24. — The merits of Canon O'Rourke's excellent history of the 
Irish famine f are doubtless already well known to many of our 
readers. First published in 1874, and now in its third edition, 
it is altogether the most complete and reliable account we pos- 
sess of an event which is the saddest perhaps in the pages of 
Irish history. In the treatment of his subject the author dis- 
plays a clear and extensive knowledge of facts, together with a 
fair-minded, impartial, and truly historical appreciation of their 
value and bearing. His material, drawn for the most part from 
public and approved sources, is largely supplemented by the 
personal testimony of living witnesses, the survivors in that 
awful conquest of death. This gives a very living interest to 
the narration. The summary given at the head of each chapter 
also adds decidedly to the excellence of the book. , 

25. — Father Wilberforce has also presented us with a transla- 
tion of a little treatise t which Blosius originally joined as an 
appendix to the Book of Spiritual Instruction. The translator 

^Journal Intinu de Monseigntur Dupanhup, Extraits Recueillis et Publics. Par L. 
Branchereau. Paris: Librairie T^ui. 1902. 

f History of the Great Irish Famine of 1847. With Notices of Earlier Irish Famines. By 
the Rev. John O'Rourke. New York: Benziger Brothers. 

I A Short Rule and Daily Exercise, For a Beginner in the [Spiritual Life. By Ludovicus 
Blosius (Louis of Blois), of the Order of St. Benedict. Translated [by Bertrand Wilberforce, 
O.P. St Louis, Mo. : B, Herder. 



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1903.] Charitable Work for Italian Girls. 127 

truly enough describes it as a sort of concentrated pssence of 
the larger book. The form in which it now appears — it is a 
companion to the other small volumes, Oratory of the Faithful 
Soul and Mirror for Monks — makes it very easy to carry about 
with one, ready to be drawn forth when a quiet corner and a 
moment's rest allow us to forget the worry of life for a little 
while. The translator's wish is our own hope : " May it help 
many to seek God diligently and to love Him generously." 



CHARITABLE WORK FOR ITALIAN GIRLS. 

A FRIEND, who is in a position to know, writes from Italy 
to assure us that the Protestants are striving to proselytize the 
working girls of Rome. As an offset the Missipnarie . Frances- 
cane di Maria have established a workshop in the Holy City, 
and at present are giving employment to some sixty young wo- 
men, who are thus protected against the efforts of the mission- 
aries of Protestantism. The establishment in question; of course, 
is but a beginning and quite inadequate to the needs of the 
situation. It must spread in order to fulfil its mission, and 
American Catholics — whose missionary zeal is well known in 
Rome — have been appealed to for sympathy and co- operation. 
Beautiful embroidery and fine needlework, we are informed, are 
produced in these workrooms, and trousseaux prepared. Possi- 
bly some of our readers may see a way to enter into the work 
and act as a kind of American agent for the "Missionaries of 
Mary." If so, a letter to the Editor of The Catholic World 
IfAGAZlNE will suffice to establish communication with the 
Roman house. 



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«t » » Xibrat^ Uable. » » » 



The Tablet (7 Feb.) : Fr. Herbert Thurston considers Mr. 
Mallock's article on " Talking- Pictures " in their connec- 
tion with the Bacon- Shakespeare controversy. 
(21 Feb.): The same writer gives a further consideration 
of recent arguments in the question of the authenticity of 
the Holy Shroud of Turin, and says " it is to be hoped 
that a thorough scientific examination of the incriminated 
cloth will be permitted before it be again exposed to the 
solemn veneration of the faithful in the Cathedral of 
Turin." 

The Critical Review (Jan.) : The Life and Letters of James 
Martineau is briefly noticed by Rev. S. D. F. Salmond, 
who believes it to be a full and appreciative estimate of 
the lofty character and remarkable career of the great 
thinker. The first and greater part of the work is 
devoted to the biography, and in the reviewer's opinion 
is for the most part admirably done, though at times it 
is somewhat too full and detailed, and on that account 
fails to portray the personality of its subject with that 
perfect unity and vividness which one would desire. The 
second part contains copious selections from Dr. Marti- 
neau's extensive correspondence, which enable the reader 
to gain a clearer notion of his position in philosophy and 
theology as well as the influence of his thought and 
teaching on many of his great contemporaries. 

The Month (Feb.) : Newman's correspondence with Fr. Cole- 
ridge is continued throughout the year 1866, being largely 
taken up with protests against the calling of names 
and imputing of motives in controversy. Newman 
objected to the use of phrases like " foolish," ** un- 
scrupulous," ** absurd," " childish," etc., in Fr. Coleridge's 
article on Pusey, and says : ** Now, if even / feel pained 
to read such things said of him, what do you suppose is 
the feeling of those who look up to him as their guide ? 
They are as indignant at finding him thus treated as you 
are for his treatment of Catholic doctrine. They close 
their ears and their hearts. Yet these are the very 
people you write for. You don't write to convert the 



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1903.] Library Table. 129 

good fathers at No. 9, but to say a word in season to 
his followers and to his friends." A letter from Fr. 
Coleridge in very .manly fashion acknowledges the justice 
of these criticisms, and traces the fault to the atmosphere 
surrounding him at the time. 

Father Tyrrell attempts a distinction between the 
inspired eternal elements of Christian ethics and the 
rational variable elements, " the mass of precepts and 
prohibition handed down from prehistoric times, and 
gathering in bulk from century to century," the result of 
human experience and reflection, of human credulity and 
ignorance. To winnow the chaff from the grain is the 
task of Christian reason aided by the breath of God's 
spirit. 

Annates de Philosophic Chritientu (Jan.): In some pages des- 
tined to serve as a preface to R. Charbonnel's essay 
upon " Literary Apologetic," P. Laberthonniere discusses 
the value and the character of the historical method so 
indispensable and so excellent when it displays '' the 
sense of the relative," the sense that all our actions and 
all our formulas are imperfect and inadequate. They 
who anathematize the past must be shown that it still 
lasts in them; they who idolize the past must be 
reminded that no two instants in the life of humanity 
are altogether the same, any more than in individual life. 

Rassegna Nazionale {i Feb.): Sig. Minocchi writes upon a 
recent article in VUnita Cattolica^ in which Prof Magri 
copies from P. Gayraud's contribution to the Univers 
certain ** inaccurate and calumnious " criticisms of Loisy's 
answer to Harnack. Sig. Minocchi thinks that had Sig. 
Magri read Loisy's book he would never have given 
credit to P. Gayraud's remarks ; for Loisy's real attitude 
was not that of one giving a complete demonstration of 
Catholicism, but rather of one turning a rationalist's own 
arguments against him. Luisa Alberti gives a most 
laudatory notice of P. Semsia's recent work on Doctrine, 
Hierarchy, and Worship in the Primitive Church. 

Civilta Cattolica (21 Feb.): In the course of a comment on the 
recent book of P. Fontaine, S.J., The Kantian and Pro- 
testation Infiltrations in the French Clergy^ attention is 
drawn to the recent condemnation of Loisy's latest book, 

TOU LXXVII.— 9 

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I30 Library Table. [April, 

and to the fact that certain articles in the Annates de 
Philosophie Chretienne lean toward the subjectivism of 
Kant. It is also asserted that P. Fontaine is not the 
victim of a hatred for all kinds of progress in religious 
science. A detailed presentation is given of the unfor- 
tunate religious condition of the Italians in New York, as 
described in a recent issue of The Messenger^ and emphasis 
is laid upon the duties of American Catholics towards 
their Italian coreligionists, who in large part come from 
southern Italy, where the people lack any sort of religious 
instruction. 

Razon y Fe (Feb.) : P. Murillo, continuing his discussion of the 
decadence of the Latin races, draws attention to the fact 
that although a characteristic proclivity of the Spanish is 
toward passivity, this tendency is better checked by the 
pursuit of the Catholic ideal than in any other way, and 
was least prominent in the days when Catholicism was 
most flourishing. Neither Spain nor Italy gives us reason 
for believing that Protestantism or Revolutionism will cure 
the national vices of a people. 

Science Catholique (Feb.) : M. le Chanoine Gombault (Le Prob- 
lente Apologetique) pursues his criticism of the immanent 
method ; his conclusion is : UApologetique historique, 
telle qu'elle est congue et appliquee par la methode 
d'immanence devient ainsi un imbroglio d'ou il est im- 
possible d'extraire la verite et Texistence concrete de la 
Revelation. In Quelques Questions du traite de la Grace^ 
etc., M. TAbbe Michel supports the conclusion of M. 
Gayraud (St, Thomas et le Predeterminisme)^ that while 
the motion of concurrence admitted by St. Thomas can- 
not be explained as the "simultaneous" of Suarez and 
Molina, nevertheless concursus "la motion dans lequel 
St. Thomas fait consister ce concours n'est pas, au moins 
pour les actes libres, une veritable predetermination phy- 
sique.*' Other articles are: "Telegraphic et Tele- 
phonic sans fir' (M. le Dr. Surbled), "Le Poete Chre- 
tien Prudence " (M. Maigret), " Le Programme d'fitudes 
au Grand Seminaire de La Rochelle." 

Revue du Monde Catholique (i Feb.): M. Savaete, the manag- 
ing director, and Mgr. Fevre reply to an expostulation 
of M. Brancherau, who complained that in the " Cente- 
naire de Dupanloup " Mgr. Fevre had represented him 

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1903.] Library Table. 131 

as expressing some unfavorable estimates of Mgr. Du- 
panloup. Elsewhere Mgr. F^vre contributes a Postscript 
turn to his Dupanloup article. Dr. Fourier Bonnard 
continues his sketch of the Canons of St. Victor de 
Paris. Mgr. Ffevre continues his diffuse commentary on 
the principles expressed by Father Aubry on the reform 
of ecclesiastical studies. M. Jean d'Estoc pursues his 
study of the moral condition of the French army. 

Revue de Lille (Jan.): Mgr. Baunard, in a letter to Pere 
Laneille the Oratorian, draws a contrast between Jean 
Marie de la Mennais and his unhappy brother F^lix. 
In " Fenelon et TEducation du Due de Bourgogne/' 
a discourse delivered at Cambrai, M. Lecigne gives a 
brilliant and sympathetic sketch of Fenelon, his educa- 
tional methods, and their success as witnessed to by the 
character of his illustrious pupil. '* Le Swastika et La 
Croix" (M. le Dr. Duret) is an archaeological study of 
various ethnic symbols resembling the Christian cross. 
" Bossuet et le Pere Quesnel " (M. Th. Delmont) is a 
continuation of the writer's reply to the Abbe Urbain's 
contention {Revue du Clerge Franfuis^ 15 Jan., 1901) 
that Bossuet is the apologist of Quietism and of Jansenism. 

La Democratie Chretienne (Feb.) : In the leading article Prof 
Toniolo gives a history of the Catholic social party in 
Italy. The object of its formation was to protect the 
interests of religion and to cultivate the Christian life 
in communities and homes. Thus far, he shows, it has 
succeeded beyond expectation, and present conditions 
promise much for the future. Dr. Dubois insists that 
the need of the hour is an immediate adoption in France 
of a uniform plan of action if the country is to be saved 
from the dangers of socialism. In discussing the nature 
of the Catholic clubs which are being organized in and 
about Nord, G. Vanneufville says no intention is enter- 
tained of forming a Catholic party such as exists in 
Belgium and Grermany ; the chief aim of the movement 
is to promulgate among young men correct views in re- 
gard to the relation of church and society. 

SHmmen aus Maria-Laach (7 Feb.) : Among the book reviews 
is an interesting comment on the recent French version 
of Father Tyrrell's famous and universally admired Ex- 
ternal Religion. The reviewer says in part: "The^book 

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132 Library Table. [April. 

contains great incentive to thought and much that is of 
the utmost utility to believing Protestants. Not in- 
frequently, however, it recalls certain prevalent ideas 
(Mode-Ideen), which have found sympathy among a part 
of the American clergy. Some remarks are rather 
obscure and might produce confusion; as, for instance, 
those on frequent Communion and " blind " obedience. 
Too little attention is given to the great fruit resulting 
from zealous reception of the sacraments. We feel re- 
peatedly the lack of a clear distinction between what is 
necessary under pain of sin and what is desirable in the 
interest of the common good. That the average Catholic 
layman has no liking for religious dispute is correct and 
warrantable, but it is unwart'antable to conclude from 
this that he is indifferent towards his religion. He 
might, without inconsistency, possess the warmest enthu- 
siasm for religious truth. 

Closing his article on the Congressional Library 
in Washington, D. C, Father Schwickerath, S.J., says 
that "its system is so original and practical, and so 
singular in its kind, that it may rightly be called an 
invention." The book shelves have a combined length of 
231,680 feet — about 42 miles. If all the space is utilized 
the building can accommodate 4,500,000 books. At 
present it contains 1,000,000 volumes. Nearly every 
book printed in America is among this number. The 
principal papers of every State in the Union and the 
best magazines of all nations are on file. Catholic litera- 
ture is fairly well represented. We need but mention 
Migne's Patrologjy, Mansi's Collection of the Councils, the 
Acta Sanctorum of the Bollandists, and numerous maga- 
zines. The library of music contains 311,020 pieces. 

The library for the blind is noteworthy. It is visited 
by 1,900 blind. A society of fifty ladies has been or- 
ganized to conduct these unfortunates to and from the 
/ library. 300 standard English works (some Catholic), 
current magazines and papers, and some pieces of music 
are at their disposal. There is a tunnel leading from the 
library to the Capitol, a distance of about a quarter of a 
mile. Through this members of Congress can be sup- 
plied with books within three minutes' notice. 



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■ — ^ 

The struggle that has continued for many 
The English Church years past, within the Established Church 
Disoipline BUI. of England, between the " extreme " and the 
" anti "-ritualists has lately been the occasion 
of some bitter feelings. A determination evidently exists in the 
minds of the latter party to stop once and for all the aggres- 
siveness of the former. In truth it is not too much to say that 
a crisis is at hand for the Established Church itself. Forebod- 
ings of the present storm came years ago, in 1899, when, against 
the evident ultra-ritualistic tendencies of many, the House of 
Commons passed a resolution to the effect that if the efforts of 
the bishops to secure due obedience from their clergy were not 
speedily effectual, further legislation would be needed to carry 
out existing laws in the church. Later the Lambeth Conference 
was called for the purpose of determining what should be taught 
and practised on many points. 

But the bishops did not receive obedience from their subor- 
dinates ; the ultra- ritualistic party grew in numbers, in boldness, 
and in aggressiveness, so that now their opponents maintain that 
something more effectual than the passing decision of a bishop 
is needed, and consequently they call upon the civil law to ex- 
ercise drastic power. 

The present Church Discipline Bill, passed to its second read- 
ing on March 13 by a majority of 51, abolishes the bishops' 
right to veto proceedings against disobedient ritualistic clergy- 
men, and provides that such clergymen may be deprived of 
their livings when they persist in disobedience. Mr. Balfour, the 
Prime Minister, gave evidence of the critical nature of the situa- 
tion when, at the motion for second reading, he said : " I do 
not know what the future of the church is going to be. I look 
upon it with the greatest an'kiety." 

The real question is a wider one, of course, than ritual or 
no ritual. Behind this struggle, and that which really stirs on 
the anti-ritualists, is their claim to and their belief in the 
rights of the laity to control matters ecclesiastical. It is the 
Protestant theory, and the champion of the Protestant party 
within this Protestant church. Sir William Harcourt, emphati- 
cally declared in Parliament: "That is what they (the laity) 
are entitled to under an established church. If you do not. 

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1 34 Comment on Current Topics. [April, 

like interference in this matter, disestablish the church." The 
ahti-ritualistic party then is determined even unto death. The 
ritualists likewise are not thinking of giving way. Lord Hali- 
fax, speaking at Cambridge at a meeting of the University 
branch of the English Church, declared the only way out of the 
present difficulty was to accept the authority of the church in 
matters of faith and practice. ** We," he maintained, " were not 
guilty of violating solemn obligations, but the others were — the 
gfreat majority,— they were the faithless members of the Church 
of England." He added that he had no fear of a Church Dis- 
cipline Bill. 

It will be seen, then, that signs are by no means wanting 
that point to the not distant disestablishment of the church in 
England, and that the break will come, not from the attacks of 
enemies without, but bj^'Sissensions and differences among those 
within. Even with the stout support of the law of the land it 
would seem that a city divided against itself cannot put up the 
appearance of standing. It will be seen also, by those who care 
to use their eyes at all, that Parliament and the laity control 
the English Church, call it High, or Anglican, or Catholic, or 
Primitive, or Apostolic, or whatsoever ybu will, and that for all 
its high standing it is no more the church of Christ than any 
other sect that has cut itself off from the centre of Christian 
unity. 

The' ukase recently issued by Nicholas II. 
BeUgious^Beform j^^^g ^een welcomed by applause altogether 
premature, and its effects have been dwelt 
upon as momentous, beneficial, and extensive to a degree en- 
tirely unjustified. 

The Czar himself may be desirous of introducing the long- 
needed reforms for which the peasantry are clamoring and mak- 
ing at times ominous demonstrations. Be that as it may, the 
present decree in itself practically effects nothing. 

Religious toleration has been known in Russia since the 
time of Catherine II.. and the Czar now deems it expedient 
"to strengthen and decree the undeviating observance of the 
principles of tolerance laid down by the fundamental laws of 
the Russian Empire, which . . . grant to all our subjects 
of other religions . . . freedom of creed and worship." 
This is nothing new, and does not change the existing Penal 
Code. That code forbids a member of the Orthodox Russian 
Church to change his religious belief under pain of l^eing de- 

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1903.] Comment ON Current Topics. 135 

prived of his children and his land. Again, it deprives one 
who would persuade an Orthodox Russian to change his faith 
of all personal rights and exiles him to Siberia or imprisons 
him at hard labor; if he persuade him to embrace a non* 
Christian faith, he is to be deprived of all civil rights and sent 
into penal servitude for a period of from eight to ten years. 
In the case of " mixed " marriages the same code rules that 
the children must be brought up in the Orthodox Russian faith. 
This entire code will still remain in force, and certainly it 
is far from giving to the Russian people liberty of conscience 
or true religious toleration. Still the Czar's decree, which 
gives evidence that the power of the bureaucracy is being 
weakened, is a. hopeful sign in this, that continued and aug- 
mented agitationr on ^e. part of the people may within a short 
time bring about these needed religious and economic reforms. 

Of late there have appeared a number of 

Certain Artioles on articles in American, and more particularly 

Catholicism. in English magazines, written by those who 

claim to be Catholics, on the teaching and 
the discipline of the Catholic Church. The names of the authors 
are carefully hidden under such titles as Roman us, Catholicus, 
Vox Veritatis, Presbyter, or the like. They always conceal 
their names "for fear of persecution," and, without exception, 
they are titled by the editor as men of superior learning and 
unimpeachable character. No man ever yet wrote seriously 
who was not actuated by the sincere and unshakable love of 
truth for truth's sake, cost what it may. But these men, if we 
are to believe them, ha^e been given by Providence a more 
loyal and a more honest love of truth than any of their prede- 
cessors ; and they are determined to set forth the truth, cost 
what -it may, so long as it does not cost themselves anything. 
They always make for reform and progress and advancement. 
At least that is the good impression which they would give their 
readers and by which they would seek to gain adherents. On 
the same plea they launch forth erroneous statements, iconoclastic 
theories, and champion interpretations that would mean simply 
the undermining of the fundamental truths of the Catholic religion. 
Development of Christian doctrine, the further reconciliation of 
Catholic teaching with the best advances of modern science, the 
continued demonstration that the Catholic Church is in perfect 



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136 Comment on Current Topics. [April, 

accord with later- day governments; historical and biblical 
criticism, — all these are good and have their proper place. But 
these men of whom we write have o'erreached themselves and 
fallen on the other side. We have always thought that criticism 
of these articles but gave them unmerited attention, and con- 
demnation of them was unnecessary, since to any intelligent 
Catholic they condemned themselves. We have written this 
particularly in view of an article that has just appeared in the 
New York Independent^ derogatory and false to the Papacy and 
to the Catholic Church, at a time when the whole world, non- 
Catholic as well as Catholic, is giving testimony to the worth of 
Leo XIII. as a man, and to his commanding position in the world 
of civilization as Pope. He has more than proved that Catholic 
teaching and practice are not only in line with, but the very 
leaders of the best thought and movement of c^ur day. The 
article is but an unhappy and discordant note, unworthy of 
further attention, that jars upon the Catholic ear in an otherwise 
harmonious chorus of world-wide accord. 

A study of the census of 1900 with regard 
Child Labor to the number of illiterate children in the 

great industrial States has just been issued by 
the Charity Organization Society of New York City. The six lead- 
ing manufacturing States, New York, Pennsylvania, Illinois, Massa- 
chusetts, Ohio, and New Jersey, all stand near the bottom of the 
scale, that is with the greater number of illiterates, except Massa- 
chusetts, which is twenty-sixth in a scale of fifty-two. These 
States of course attract immigrants whose children are likely to 
remain illiterate by being sent out to labor at a very early age. 
Such a condition demands the strict enforcement of a law which 
would require that such children know how to read and write 
English before being permitted to labor. Such a requirement 
would remove one cause of child labor, the greed on ,the part of 
parents, and also effectively prevent the operation of the greater 
cause, the greed of manufacturers. A close study of these tables 
will bring it home to one that the problems of child labor and child 
illiteracy are in great measure twin-problems, and that together 
they demand for their solution no mere sectional effort, but 
the vigorous determination of the whole people that the years 
6f childhood shall be held sacred to the work of education, 
free from the burden of wage-earning. 



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1903.] The Columbian Reading Union. 137 



THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION. 

THE twenty- fifth anniversary of the coronation of Pope Leo XIII. was 
observed as a general holiday at the Catholic University, Washington, 
D. C, and with ceremonies which were both solemn and impressive. 

After the Pontifical Mass the professors and students and the superiors 
and students of the affiliated colleges assembled in the Aula Maxima, McMahon 
Hall, for the academic expression of the University. Bishop Conaty made the 
opening address, in which he spoke of the relation of Leo XIII. to the Univer- 
sity, in its establishment and development, and said it was fitting the University 
as an academic body should hold a public meeting, in which different phases 
of the Pontificate of Leo XIII. might be discussed in addresses by professors 
of the University. 

Addresses were made as follows : The Relation of Leo XIII. to 
Oriental Studies, Rev. Henry Hyvernat, Ph.D., professor of Oriental lan- 
guages; Leo XIII. and the Biblical Commission, Rev. Charles P. Grannan, 
D.D., professor of sacred Scripture and member of the Biblical Commission; 
Leo XIII. and Ecclesiastical History, Very Rev. Thomas J. Shahan, D.D., 
professor of Church history; Leo XIII. and Philosophy, Rev. Edward A. 
Pace, professor of psychology; Leo XIII. and the Science of Law, Hon. 
William C. Robinson, LL.D., dean of the faculty of law; Leo XIII. and 
Social Science, Rev. William J. Kerby, Ph.D., associate professor of soci- 
ology; Leo XIII. and Poetry, Dr. Maurice Francis Egan, dean of the 
faculty of philosophy. The last address was made by Very Rev. Edmund T. 
Shanahan, D.D., dean of the faculty of theology, who also presented the 
following resolutions: 

Leo XIII., student, litterateur, sociologist, philosopher, civil governor, 
diplomat, statesman, priest, bishop, cardinal. Pope, who shed the lustre of his 
many-sided personality on these several careers ; restorer of the philosophy 
and theology of St. Thomas to the place of honor in all Catholic schools; 
advocate of the synthetic spirit and sweeping world-view of the great Domini* 
can as an offset to the extremes of present day specialization and as an incen- 
tive to a larger outlook upon the field of human knowledge ; advocate, no less, 
of science and research, whereby the revelation of God in Nature is daily 
increased, the hardships and discomforts of life are more and more diminished, 
and the truths from above are ever more surely seen to be in concert with the 
discoveries from below; exhorter of the clergy and the laity to a spirit of study 
in which investigation and reconstruction should go together ; patron of the 
science of history, who encouraged the work of a number of the independent 
investigators in history and liturgy by appointing them to membership on the 
Historico-Liturg^cal Commission, who opened the doors of the Vatican archives 
to the scholars of the world and wrote the three supreme canons by which all 
historical research should be for ever governed ; patron, no less, of the Biblical 
sciences in the interests of which he has shown a scholar's zeal, for the direc- 
tion of which he has latterly appointed a permanent commission ; foreseeing 



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138 The Columbian Reading Union [April, 

friend of the poor and needy in a world whose fat and lean ksiie do not exhibit 
the proportions revealed in the dream of Joseph, his ancient homonym; 
spokesman of the rights of labor, the worth and dignity of the huanan indi- 
vidual, the ethical as against the purely economic appreciation of man ; adver- 
sary of socialism and all movements threatening social order ; exponent of the 
Christian constitution of civil governments, the mutual rights, duties, and pre- 
rogatives of Church and states in promoting respectively the spiritual and 
temporal good of their subjects; supporter of the Hague Conference, and 
freely chosen arbiter of international disputes in the interest of universal 
peace ; indefatigable promoter of harmony between the Churches of the West 
and East, within and without the spiritual commonwealth of Christ, between 
embittered political and religious parties in his own and other lands ; guardian 
of the Christian family and opponent of divorce ; champion of Catholic piety, 
practice, and tradition throughout the Church universal ; establisher of a larger 
and more solidified; hierarchy for the purposes of a more generous spiritual 
lilfe ; founder of The Catholic University of America for the inheritance of his 
spirh and the propagation of his ideas in the years that are to be ; friend of this 
truly great Republic of the West, in which his watchful eyes have ever 
discerned « fair field for the beloved Church Catholic whose interests have 
been peculiatly his in the century of years with which we hope the Lord's 
bounty will crown him ere he takes his place among the peers of the Church 
Triumphant. 

Wherefore : In honor of this great Catholic Leader, whose sword is of the 
spirit ; in honor of this encyclopaedic Pontiff, whose hospitable soul admitted an 
ailing and troubled world into the confidence and council of his sympathy ; in 
honor of this Pope of Solidarity, who strove to restore harmony between the 
natural and supernatural, science and religion, faith and reason, piety and learn- 
ing, and exemplified in his own matchless career the embodiment of the ideals 
which he taught in honor of this Advocate of Peace, who sought the peace of 
the family, the workingman, the Church, the State, and the reunion of all 
Christendom by his firmly gentle and gently firm method of conciliation, by his 
loftiness of purpose and nobility of aim ; who ever rendered to Caesar the things 
that are Caesar's and to God the things that are God's, protesting only with the 
righteousness of a holy cause against the despoilment of the patrimony of 
Peter's successors and his own enforced captivity ; in honor of Leo XIII. in 
fine, our common spiritual Father, Founder, and Friend, be it and it is hereby 

Resolved: That we, the rector, professors, and students of the Catholic 
University of America, in joint meeting assembled, after hearing the eulogistic 
discourses on our Holy Father pronounced by members of the teaching staff of 
this institution, do mark this day as sacred in our annals, and do hereby give 
public act of expression to our sense of loyalty, love, devotion, and gratitude to 
this noble successor of the Fisherman, to whom it has been given to see the 
years of Peter, to whom it shall be given, God grant, to enjoy still greater 
length of days in governing the Kingdom of God and furthering the purpose 
of Him who died that all men might live. 

The resolutions were unanimously adopted as the expression of the Uni- 
versity. Bishop Conaty sent the following cablegram : 

The rector, professors, and students of the Catholic University of America, 



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1903.] The Columbian Reading Union. 139 

in joint meeting assembled for the purpose of celebrating the jubilee of Leo 
XIII.^ their father, founder, patron, and friend, rejoice with him on this 
glorious day, wish him still greater fulness of years in the government of God's 
Kingdom, and humbly ask his apostolic blessing. 

The answer received from Rome was as follows : 
Right Rev, Bishop Conaty^ Rector, Catholic University y Washington : 

The Holy Father has received with great pleasure the expression of devo- 
tion conveyed to him on the occasion of his solemn pontifical jubilee, and 
most affectionately sends his blessing to the rector, professors, and students of 
the Catholic University, an institution fondly cherished by him. 

M. CARD. RAMPOLLA. 
« « « 

The aim of the Xavier Publication Society is to place gratuitously within 
the reach of the blind throughout the United States Catholic literature in 
raised point print, of which they have hitherto been wholly deprived. 

By this vast and costly undertakinj^ it is proposed to brighten and cheer 
the lives of the many thousands of these afflicted ones, and help them to see 
the things of the world to come, lest, as has happened in the case of thousands 
of them in the past, to the loss of their physical sight be added the still greater 
loss of the light of faith. This truly apostolic and much-needed charity should 
rouse the sympathy of every one who has the priceless gift of sight and enjoys 
so many means to preserve undimmed the light of faith. 

The Society depends entirely upon donations and annual subscriptions. 
With a fair increase in the number of these yearly contributions, it hopes to 
enlarge its scope and to extend the sphere of its beneficent purposes. 

Contributors are those who subscribe $i annually; members are those 
who subscribe $5 annually ; associate members are those who subscribe $10 
annually; patrons are those who subscribe $20 annually; benefactors are 
those who subscribe $100 annually. 

Honorary President — Most Rev. John M. Farley, D.D., Archbishop of 
New York. 

Founder and Director— Ktv, Joseph M. Stadelman, S.J. 

President — Miss Ada Clarke. 

Vice-Presidents — Miss Margaret Coffey, Miss Louise Medary. 

Secretaries — Miss Josephine Mari6, Miss Lillian Tierney. 

Treasurer— Mrs. T. C. T. Crain. 

Legal Adviser — Richard H. Clarke, LL.D. 

From its foundation up to March i, 1903, at a cost of about $4,500, the 
Society has printed or stereographed the following books : 

Books Stereographed and Printed, 

The Workings of the Divine Will, J. P. Caussade. 

The Will of God in Trials and Afflictions, .... J. Hillegeer. 
The Manual of Prayer. 

The Sacrifice of the New Law, Cardinal Vaughan. 

The Ceremonies of the Mass Explained, Hallet. 

What Christ Revealed, L. Jouin. 

Wayside Tales, 4 vols., Lady Herbert. 



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I40 



The Columbian Reading Union. 



[April, 



Little Lives of Great Saints, 2 vols., . . . . J. O'Kane Murray. 
The Bible and Its Interpreter, . . . . . . P.H.Casey. 

Meditations on the Angelical Salutation, R. Clarke. 

Spiritual Pepper and Salt, Dr. Stang. 

Books Stereographed, 

The Leading Events in the History of the Church, 3 vols. 
The Life of Christ in the Words of the Evangelists (with 

notes), 2 vols., . ... . ., . .A. Maas. 

Golden Sands, 4 vols. 

Fabiola, 3 vols., . Cardinal Wiseman. 

The Heart of Jesus of Nazareth, Mother Loyola. 

Growth in Holiness, 2 vols., F. W. Faber. 

Spiritual Conferences, F. W. Faber. 

Following of Christ (with reflections), 3 vols., . . . Thomas i Kempis. 
The Baltimore Catechism. 

The Apostleship of Suffering, G. Lyonnard. 

The Apostleship of Prayer, Rami^re. 

Tales and Legends of the Middle [Ages, Capella. 

Who and What is Christ, F. Rbh. 

Christ the Man-God, O'Conor. 

The Art of Always Rejoicing. 
The Art of Being Happy. 

All for Jesus, 2 vols., F. W. Faber. 

Consoling Thoughts, 2 vols., . .... .St. Francis de Sales. 

Bethlehem, 2 vols., F. W. Faber. 

Mary's Part in the Work of Redemption, . * . . P. Jeanjacquot. 
The Blessed Sacrament; or. The Works and Ways of God, F. W. Faber. 

The publications for the blind have, up to date, been placed in the follow- 
ing libraries : 

Congressional Library, Washington, D. C. 
Public Library of New York City, N. Y. 

** *• " Baltimore, Md. 

** *' " Boston, Mass. 

*' ** " Philadelphia, Pa. 

** " *« Cincinnati, O. 

'* *' " Detroit, Mich. 

" " " Louisville, Ky. 

*' ** " Cleveland, O. 



State Library of Albany, N. Y. 
Public Library of Chicago, 111. 



" New Orleans, La. 
" Hoboken, N. J. 
" Knottsville, Ky. 
" Fall River, Mass. 
" Milwaukee, Wis. 
" St. Louis, Mo. 
*' Jefferson, Tex. 



The Library of the Perkins Institution for the Blind, Boston, Mass. 



An unusually large gathering of members and guests of the F6nelon 
Reading Circle greeted the Rev. P. McHale, president of St. John's College, 
Brooklyn, the lecturer at the March social meeting held in the Pouch Gallery. 
Dr. McHale's theme was Some Phases of the French Revolution, and as the 
study topic this season for the active members is devoted to this period of his- 



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1903] The Columbian Reading Union. 141 

tory, the lecture, in addition to its general interest; proved of special value and 
assistance to the study circle. 

The lecturer was introduced by the director of the circle, the Rev. J. J. 
Coan, who stated that the F^nelon was particularly interested in the study of 
Catholic literature and history. By Catholic literature was not meant that 
which was sectarian, but that which had for its motive goodliness and Godli- 
ness and whose aim was the uplifting of humanity. 

Dr. McHale, in his opening remarks, called attention to the celebration of 
the coronation anniversary of Pope Leo XIII. , contrasting the Pontiff's reign 
of a quarter of a century with the events in the history of France, eldest 
daughter of the church, at the time of the Revolution. 

Justin Huntley McCarthy in his historical writings, said Dr. McHale, has 
quoted Disraeli as saying that there are but two events in history, the siege of 
Troy and the French Revolution. To-day, interest in the former event is but 
antiquarian and academic, but the principles of the French Revolution are a 
living issue. The causes that led up to the struggle which culminated in the 
Reign of Terror were summarized by the lecturer, who said that it would be as 
false to say that the French Revolution was wholly bad as to say that it was 
wholly good. A change was inevitable, and there was need of reform in both 
church and state. Unless he belonged to the nobility no priest could aspire to 
any higher position than that of a poor parish priest, and to this fact was due 
the sympathy in the early part of the struggle shown by the mass of the French 
parish priests with the demand for a new order of things. When, however, 
the reformers clamored for a national church and separation from Rome the 
majority of the French clergy, high and low, refused to accede and remained 
true to Rome as the central power. Therefore, although the church sustained 
a rude shock during this period in French history, it was enabled to survive 
the blow through Ihe heroism and loyalty of the greater portion of the clergy 
and religious. Dr. McHale gave striking instances of heroic conduct on the 
part of bishops, priests, and nuns. 

A graphic account was given of the scene at the assembling of the conven- 
tion of the States General called by Louis XVI., and Dr. McHale paid a high 
tribute to Louis XVI. as a man, but said that he was a weak king. It was to be 
regretted that upon him should have fallen retribution for the excesses and ex- 
travagances of Louis XIV. and Louis XV. and their courts. The lecturer also 
paid a tribute to the character and heroism of Marie Antoinette. 

Had the people not been oppressed by taxes, divided in their allegiance by 
religious dissensions, and disgusted with the extravagance of the higher 
classes, the teachings of Rousseau and the sneers of Voltaire would have had 
no effect whatever upon the masses. But they were ready for a change and 
welcomed anything that promised a better condition of things. Passing refer- 
ence was made to the Reign of Terror, and in conclusion the lecturer said that 
the principles of 1789 are in the air to-day in France, and while there will not 
again be a Reign of Terror there is a reign of tyranny and oppression. 

The lecture was supplemented by a delightful musical programme arranged 
under the direction of Mrs. J. C. K^ough ; Miss Rosemary Rogers, accompanied 
by Miss Anna C. Rogers, sang Springtide (Becker) and Dear Love (Chadwick) 
in a very artistic manner. Miss Elizabeth McGuire was heard with much pleas- 



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142 The Columbian Reading Union. [April, 1903.] 

ure in the selections, My Mother Bids Me Bind My Hair (Haydn) and Ques- 
tion (Lynes), Mrs. Frank Cuddy playing the accompaniments. The instru- 
mental selections comprised two piano solos by Mme. M. Forster Deyo, who 
gave a brilliant rendering of the Revolution 6tude by Chopin, and a^MeiMlels- 
sohn number. 

The lecture was followed by an informal reception to the lecturer, Miss 
Mary E. White, the president, and other officers acting as reception committee. 
« « « 

A book prepared by Catholic hands is beyond doubt the most beautiful 
volume among the 500,000 in the Congressional Library at Washington. It 
is a Bible which was transcribed by a monk in the sixteenth century. It could 
not be matched to-day in the best printing-office in the world. The parch- 
ment is in perfect preservation. Every one of its 1,000 pages is a study. The 
general lettering is in German text, each letter perfect, and every one of them 
in coal-black ink, without a scratch or blot from lid to lid. At the beginning 
of each chapter the first letter is very large, usually two or three inches long, 
and is brightly illuminated in blue or led ink. Within each of these initials 
there is drawn the figure of some saint, or some incident of which the following 
chapter tells is illustrated. There are two columns on a page, and nowhere is 
traceable the slightest irregularity of line, space, or formation of the letters. 
Even under a magnifying glass they seem fiawless. The precious volume is 
kept under a glass case, which is sometimes lifted to show that all the pages 
are as perfect as the two which lie open. A legend relates that a young man 
who had sinned deeply became a monk and resolved to do penance for his mis- 
deeds. He determined to copy the Bible, that he might learn every letter of 
the divine commands he had violated. Every day for years he patiently pur- 
sued his task. Each letter was wrought with reverence and love, and the peni- 
tent soul found its only companionship in the saintly faces which were por- 
trayed on these pages. M. C. M. 



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41 MAY, # t903.l^ 



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THE 

CATHOLIC WORLD. 

Vol. LXXVII. MAY, 1903. No. 458, 




MR. W. H. MALLOCK'S DEFENCE OF RELIGION. 

BY REV. JAMES J. FOX. D.D. 



^N The Catholic World Magazine, number for 
January, 1902, we called attention to two articles 
which had appeared some time previously in The 
Fortnightly^ from the pen of Mr. W. H. Mallock. 
These articles, with others which followed, have 
recently been published in book form, under the title Religion 
as a Credible Doctrine, The book is intended by its author to be 
a defence of the three basic doctrines of natural religion — God, 
freedom, and immortality — against the assaults of scientific un- 
belief The volume is not worthy of its author. To Catholics 
it can only be a matter for regret that he is responsible for 
such a sorry performance; for Mr. Mallock, by eminent services 
to the cause of truth, has deserved the old Roman encomium. 
Bene meruit de republica. More than twenty years ago, when 
the Positivism of Spencer, Tyndall, and Huxley seemed to be 
carrying everything before it, Mr. Mallock in his Is Life Worth 
Living? first showed that the doctrines of that school logically 
involved the destruction of morality; and he thereby dealt it, 
in its most vulnerable part, a blow from which it did not re- 
cover. Since then he has, in his own inimitable manner, laid 
bare the nakedness of " undogmatic Christianity " and exhibited 
the folly of Anglicanism in search of a ground of authority. The 
more one recalls the logical acumen and philosophic grasp 
displayed by Mr. Mallock in his other writings, the more one 
is puzzled to understand how he can be the author of his latest 

Tub Missionary Society op St. Paul the Apostle in the State 

OP New York, 1903. 
VOL. LXXVII. — 10 



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144 J^^' H^- ^' Mallock's Defence of Religion, [May, 

work. What has disturbed the judicious temperament which 
never slighted the strength of an opponent's position, and used 
the same weights and measures in weighing the arguments of 
friend and foe ? What strabismus has dulled and distorted the 
keen eye which no fallacy, however well disguised, no latent 
absurdity, could escape? Had Religion as a Credible Doctrine 
come forth from the press anonymously we should have been 
inclined to say : What a treat it would be to watch Mr. Mallock 
tear this thing to tatters ! 

The object which he proposes to himself in the present 
volume is '* to exhibit as worthy of a reasonable man's accept- 
ance, not indeed the dogmas of any one religion in particular 
but those fundamental doctrines which are essential to all 
religions, and which are, moreover, the doctrines against which 
modern science, as generally understood, directs its fundamental 
protest." The method by which Mr! Mallock pursues this end, 
is, first to show that the arguments offered by the ordinary 
apologist of religion are '' ridiculous and ignominious failures," 
for they have all been completely and irrevocably demolished 
by modern science. This endeavor calls upon him to marshal 
before his reader those invincible conclusions of modern 
science which have wrought this havoc. Finally, when he has 
proved to his satisfaction that science and religion are in 
deadly conflict, he points out his way of escape, a sure and 
safe one, though all the masters missed it. It consists simply 
in admitting the existence of the contradiction, and paying no 
attention to it, since though science has, to the satisfaction of 
reason, demolished the "three buttresses of religion," neverthe- 
less we may reasonably continue to believe these tenets to be 
true, because they are indispensable to morality. That such a 
contradiction between science and religion exists, Mr. Mallock 
maintains in the strongest terms. "The doctrines of im- 
mortality, of freedom and of a God who is in relation to our- 
selves, is a system for which among the facts of science it is 
utterly impossible to find a place." Again, he says: "To any 
doctrine of individual immortality science opposes an unbroken 
and impregnable barrier." Summing up the arguments on the 
scientific side against immortality and free will, he declares: 
"We have seen as to will that he (man) is nothing but a mere 
machine, who, whatever he does, deserves neither praise nor 
blaiie, since whatever he does he could not have done other- 



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1903.] Mr. W. H. Mallock's Defence of Religion. 145 

wise. And as to his alleged immortality^ we have seen that the 
more deeply we penetrate into the observable facts on which 
his life and his mind depend, the more clear does it become to 
us that these facts, all and singly, exhibit his life as a mere 
fleeting phenomenon, which . appears with the body and disap- 
pears with it, leaving nothing behind." Finally, as to the ex- 
istence of God there is a similar verdict : " What science reveals 
to us with regard to the fact of man it reveals also to us with 
regard to the idea of God. The universe, as we know it, is a 
system of unbroken determinism; and if, in any sphere of its 
existence the Supreme Mind is free, in its relations to this 
universe it has laid its freedom aside." 

The purpose of this paper is not to refute these contentions 
put forward by Mr. Mallock in the destructive portion of his 
thesis, but to point out the worthlessness of the attempt which 
he makes to establish religious truth on a reasonable basis after 
he has accepted the foregoing conclusions. Relative to the 
first portion of his work we shall only point out two facts 
which indicate how completely he has relinquished the use of his 
critical faculties. In the first place, he has solemnly pro- 
pounded the extravagant speculations of Professor Haeckel and 
dignified them with the name of science. He speaks of this 
monistic philosophy as if it were as truly science as is astro- 
nomy, and the wildest conjectures of the German professor con- 
cerning the mysteries of the Infinite are laid down by Mn 
Mallock as if they carried the same weight as the theory of 
gravitation. Even Haeckel himself warns his readers that the 
doctrines set forth in Die Weltrdthsel^ which is the storehouse 
from which Mr. Mallock draws so liberally, are but speculations. 
And no scientific man of eminence attaches any value to 
Haeckel's philosophy. The venerable professor himself complains 
that those who once walked with him have deserted him in his 
old age. The work from which Mr. Mallock has drawn his 
weapons, has, as one of his critics observes,* been stigmatized 
by Professor Paulsen as a disgrace to German scholarship ; ^nd 
another distinguished fellow-countryman of the professor has 
accused him of playing fast and loose with science and the 
public. That . Mr. Mallock should accept the views of " a be- 
lated eighteenth century materialist " as the last word of science 
is enough to show us that, from some cause or another, his 

• See Catholic University Bulletin, January, 1903, p. 93. 



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146 Mr, IV. H. Mallock's Defence of Religion. [May, 

critical powers were in a state of inhibition when he constructed 
this wonderful piece of apologetics. More than twenty years 
ago, when dissecting with his keen dialectic knife the preten- 
sions of Tyndall, he said the human will ** is a force, a some- 
thing of which physical science can give no account whatever, 
and which it has no shadow of authority either for affirming or 
denying ; and further, if we are not prevented by it from affirm- 
ing his (man's) immaterial will, we are not prevented from 
affirming his immortality, and the existence of God likewise.'* • 
Since Mr. Mallock wrote these words a change has taken place 
in the status of the controversy between theists and their op- 
ponents. The change is not that science has thrown any further 
light on the problem ; but, on the contrary, that the great mass 
of scientific men, and of speculators who profess to take science 
as their guide, have come to the conclusion that the questions 
of God's existence and man's immortality lie beyond the domain 
of science so far that science cannot expect ever to throw any 
light on the subject. 

If Mr. Mallock's inexplicable procedure when summing up 
the scientific side is a discredit to his judgment, the manner in 
which he handles the arguments for religion is, if possible, still 
mors unworthy of him. Instead of stating them fairly and giving 
due weight to them, he distorts, minimizes, and misrepresents. 
Especially is this the case in his treatment of Father Maher, 
S.J., from whose work on Psychology he takes the statement 
of the case for free will and immortality. He has displayed an 
almost incredible crassness in the treatment of Father Maher's 
work, misapprehending its gist, and travestying its arguments 
till his presentation of them becomes nothing better than a 
caricature. In an article in The Fortnightly for March, Father 
Maher exposes a few of the more glaring blunders which Mr. 
Mallock has committed. They are such as to show that not 
only has Mr. Mallock failed to present Father Maher's argu- 
ments fairly, but that he has not even grasped the fundamental 
tenets of Catholic philosophy. Yet he sets himself up for an 
** intellectual accountant " qualified ta examine the conflicting 
claims of the religious apologist and the scientific unbeliever, 
and then to settle the litigation by a judicial .sentence from 
which there can be no appeal. And here we may remark that 
one of the many grotesque features in this grotesque book is 

* Is Life Worth Living? p. 242 (edition Putnam, 1897). 



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1903.] Mr. W. H. Mallock's Defence of Religion. 147 

the contrast between the vein of self-deprecation in which Mr. 
Mallock assumes what he calls the humble role of intellectual 
accountant* and his undisguised arrogation to himself, as he dis- 
charges the task, of a thorough ability to sit in judgment on 
both the apologist and the scientist. Both the scientific thinker 
and the theologians arc, he says in his introductory chapter, 
disqualified from making an accurate estimate of the positions 
of religion and science ; this *' is the work of a person much 
humbler, the intellectual accountant." To this " limited and 
unambitious task" he addresses himself. But forgetting his 
humility, he pretends 'to the expert knowledge of both theolo- 
gian and scientist ; and, in the event, he tells them that both of 
them are ignorant of what they are talking about, while he aloiTe 
has the secret to the palace of truth. Mr. Mallock's comparison 
of himself to an accountant is not a very happy one. It 
would describe his performance better to liken him to a pro- 
fessor of legerdemain who having borrowed a watch from a 
spectator, subjects it to a great deal of ostentatious hammering 
and passes fragments around to the audience to convince every- 
body that the thing is completely ruined ; then, with a few 
graceful turns of the hand, he draws it forth from some mys- 
terious receptacle perfectly sound, and blandly hands it back to 
its owner. 

II. 

We come now to the principal part of Mr. Mallock's thesis. 
Having led us through a land where robbers have, in the name 
of science, deprived us of our most precious possession, he 
points out the intellectual road leading to the realm of cer- 
tainty in which we find awaiting us our lost religious truth. 
The key to the problem lies in the fact that as perfectly rea- 
sonable beings we may, says Mr. Mallock, assent to two con- 
tradictory propositions (such as the assertions that the will is 
free, and that the will is not free) ; and with complete convic- 
tion hold them to be both alike perfectly true. It is a natural 
opinion, he admits, that to accept two such propositions simul- 
taneously can seem reasonable to a madman only. This preva- 
lent belief Mr. Mallock proceeds to brush aside by the most 
convincing of arguments, which is to demonstrate that the 
acceptance of just such contradictories is something that all of 
us do, and that, " owing to the constitution of our own minds 



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148 Mr. w, H, Mallock's Defence of Religion, [May, 

and of the universe, unless we followed this procedure no 
coherent thought would be possible." He observes that he 
does not mean that a 'simultaneous assent to contradictories 
takes place in most minds as a conscious process ; but that 
" it takes place by implication as a strictly logical consequence 
of thoughts and judgments which lie at the bottom of all our 
knowledge, and that a logical analysis sufficiently deep and 
careful is all that is wanted to bring it to the surface." Then 
in proof of this statement he submits to analysis various ideas, 
religious and scientific. The theist's idea of God involves con- 
tradictions; the scientist's ideas of space, time, ether, etc., etc, 
all involve contradictions. Bore down anywhere, in short, 
through the surface of our knowledge and we invariably strike 
the primary stratum composed of contradictions. Logic leads 
us to a point where all our ideas resolve themselves into mutu- 
ally repellent particles, and every truth generates from its own 
womb monsters which devour it. If, then, every idea involves 
contradiction, let us once for all liberate ourselves from our 
superstitious belief that contradictions cannot be true. Though 
the fundamental* tenets of religion are proved to be false by 
science, yet when we look into our moral nature we find that 
if we are to safeguard morality, we must believe in them. This 
need is sufficient grounds for us to accept them. And it is 
only one contradiction the more in an intellectual world built 
up of contradictions, when knowing them to be false we yet 
believe them to be true. Such is the astounding theory which 
Mr. Mallock offers as an impregnable basis of religion. 

To this charmingly simple solution of the difficulty there is 
but one objection. Human reason is so constructed that it is 
incapable of carrying out Mr. Mallock's suggestion. First he 
invents a fictitious difficulty, and now he offers an impossible 
remedy. Some of Mr. Mallock's critics have treated this 
theory as a revival of the antinomies of Kant. It is much 
more extravagant than Kant's position. For according to Kant 
the antinomies, or contradictions of reason, arise out of our in- 
veterate propensity to take our ways of thinking, which are 
mere laws of our subjective thought, for laws of the universe 
outside us, that is, the universe of things-in-themselves about 
which our mind, he teaches, can know nothing at all. Fully 
aware of the absurdity of the view that the mind can acquiesce 
in the acceptance of contradictories, Kant, after pointing out 



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1903.] Mr. W. If. MALLOCK'S DEFENCE OF RELIGION. 1 49 

the antinomies, treats them as delusions, and solves them by a 
demonstration in accordance with his own system. It would 
be more correct to say that Mr. Mallock has taken his cue 
from Sir William Hamilton and Mansel, who consider that an* 
tinomies in thought do really exist, so that reason finds 
grounds for adhering to both sides of a contradiction and none 
for giving the preference to one over the other. But even 
Hamilton and Mansel do not outrage our intellect so far as to 
pretend that it can consciously entertain two contradictories; 
for they hold that faith must cut the Gordian knot by approv- 
ing one and rejecting the other. The various cases which Mr. 
Mallock cites as instances in support of his thesis do not help 
him at all. Let us grant, for argument's sake, though we hold 
it to be really an erroneous view, that some of our funda- 
mental concepts involve a contradiction which appears when 
subjected to a logical analysis sufficiently searching. To hold 
this principle is to doom the intellect to scepticism, and to de- 
clare that C^ertainty of anything is beyond our reach. Still, it 
is conceivable that the mind might simultaneously entertain two 
concepts or two propositions of this kind, because though con- 
tradiction is implied, nevertheless it is latent; a logical process 
of a complicated character is required to bring it into view. 
Consequently the mind is not conscious of it, and the funda* 
mental law of our reason is not* called into play. If by a 
course of reasoning we make the contradictory implications ex- 
plicit and obvious, our puzzled intellect stands still and refuses 
to assent either to one side or the other. Only by allowing 
ourselves to forget the antagonism between them can we again 
treat the given concepts as true. Very different is the feat 
which Mr. Mallock calls on us to perform. He asks us to ac- 
cept as certain truths proved by scientific demonstration the 
following propositions : There is no personal God ; the will is 
not free ; man is not immortal. And he furthermore asks us, 
with full and conscious advertence to that assent, simultane- 
ously to believe that these same three statements are absolutely 
false. Our reason is no more capable of giving these two as- 
sents than, to borrow one of his own illustrations, two masses 
of wall which are falling in opposite directions can be held to- 
gether by a postage stamp. If, however, Mr. Mallock, when 
declaring that the first three statements are established by 
science, does not mean to state that they are proved as quite 



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150 Mr. W. H. Mallock's Defence of Religion. [May^ 

absolutely certain truths, then his entire argument from begin- 
ning to end is a tissue of empty verbiage. If he is under the 
impression that he himself is performing the above impossible 
feat, it is but a sign (we are convinced that he really believes 
in the religious truths) that with all his insistence on Haeckelian 
monism, he does not really assent to its conclusions at all. 
And here it is not out of place to recall an observation of 
Cardinal Newman : " There are assents so feeble and superficial 
as to be little more than assertions. Many a disciple of a 
philosophical school, who talks fluently, does but assert when 
he seems to assent to the dicta of his master, little as he may 
be aware of it. Nor is he secured against self-deception by 
knowing the arguments on which these dicta rest, for he may 
learn the arguments by heart, as a careless school-boy gets up 
his Euclid." Some time ago we should have subscribed un- 
hesitatingly to the remark of Mr. Mallock, that in all the 
annals of intellectual self-deception it would be hard to find 
anything to out- do or even to approach the fantastic absurdities 
of Mr. Herbert Spencer in search of a religion. Now, how- 
ever, having carefully read Religion as a Credible Doctrine^ we 
should hesitate before acknowledging Mr. Spencer's claims to 
this pre-eminence. 

III. 

Echoing Venerable Bede, and anticipating Mr. Herbert Spen- 
cer, St. Thomas says that there can be no teaching so false but 
that,* here or there, it mingleth truth with error ; nor is there 
any knowledge that is false in every part without any admix- 
ture of truth. Even Mr. Mallock's extraordinary doctrine, not 
to speak of the cognate though less extravagant aberrations of 
Hamilton and Mansel, is based on a distorted view of a truth. 
In several passages he states correctly the fact which, through 
his own woeful misapprehension and misinterpretation, lures him 
into regions of paradox and absurdity. He strikes the centre 
fair when he says that " the human intellect is an organ of 
capacities so limited that it is constitutionally unable to grasp 
life or existence in its totality, or even any of the individual 
facts of which life and existence are composed." It is quite 
true that *' ideas and conceptions, which within the magic circle 
(of intelligible knowledge) cohere together like the strands of a 
twisted rope, begin, as soon as the borders of the circle are passed. 



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1903.] Mr, W. H, Mallock's defence of Religion. 151 

to unravel themselves and stretch away towards the opposite 
sides of infinity." And ** the totality of things in general, and 
of each thing in particular, is a tree of such enormous growth 
that our arms are too short to clasp it and, instead of meeting 
round it, extend themselves in opposite directions." This in- 
ability of our reason to adequately, that is comprehensively to 
understand anything in the universe is witnessed to by every 
school of philosophy. And because of this inability, if we pur- 
sue our concepts, tenets, and beliefs far enough, we arrive in a 
region of obscurity and mystery — not a region of contradiction ; 
for the perception of a contradiction demands a clear, compre- 
hensive grasp of the antagonistic terms. A process of reasoning 
upon two valid notions, or two well established truths, very 
often carries us intellectually out of our depth. Why this is so 
has been very concisely explained in The Grammar of Assent : 
** Our notion of a thing may be only partially faithful to the 
original ; it may be in excess of the thing, or it may represent 
it incompletely, and, in consequence, it may serve for it, it may 
stand for it, only to a certain point, in certain cases, but no 
further. After that point is reached, the notion and the thing 
part company ; and then the notion, if still used as a represen- 
tative of the thing, will work out conclusions, not inconsistent 
with itself, but with the thing to which it no longer corresponds." 
Our notion of motion may be taken as a typical example. The 
most accomplished physicist and every sane metaphysician will 
admit that of the real nature of force and motion we know 
next to nothing at all; that is to say, our concept of motion is 
but a feeble effort to grasp a reality immeasurably too large for 
our comprehension. And just because of this disparity the no- 
tion has, from the days of the Greek sophists to the days of 
Mr. Spencer, served to supply us with metaphysical paradoxes 
proving that movement cannot take place, and that time does 
not exist. From the limited nature of our faculties, obscurities, 
difficulties and perplexities everywhere beset us in our attempts 
to state the real in the formulae of abstract logic. The disparity 
which exists between thought and things of the finite universe 
is but a suggestion of the immensely greater measure in which 
our concepts of the Infinite, of God and his attributes, and all 
the incomprehensible realities involved in his relation to his 
creatures, fall short of their object. No wonder that, when we 
subject them to logical analysis, "after proceeding in our inves- 



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152 Mr. IV, H. Mallock's Defence of Religion. [May, 

ligations a certain way, suddenly a blank or maze presents itself 
before the mental vision, as when the eye is confused as by the 
varying slides of a telescope." Hence Cardinal Newman says : 
** When we try to reconcile in the moral world the fulness of 
mercy with exactitude in sanctity and justice, or to explain that 
the physical tokens of creative skill need not suggest any want 
of creative power, we feel that we are not masters of our 
subject." 

It is, however, the crown of foolishness to conclude that be- 
cause we cannot know everything about a thing we cannot know 
anything about it ; or to let go our hold on a well-established 
truth because with our petty reason we are unable to plumb 
the ocean of Infinity. What the sane reason knows to be cer- 
tain it continues to accept, whatever theoretical difficulties logic 
may raise around it. Even the most foolish of philosophers, 
however much he may appreciate the fable of Achilles and the 
tortoise, could not be cheated into thinking that the calendar 
or the railway guide is a farrago of nonsense treating about 
nothing. By the fundamental law of its nature, our mind knows 
that truth cannot contradict truth, and when seeming incompati- 
bilities arise between two truths it ascribes the confusion to the 
limitations of its own powers; and continues to hold on to its 
certain knowledge, though the full reconciliation of that knowl 
edge is hidden from its sight in the shadows which veil the 
mystery of existence. 

IV. 

If philosophers, apologists, theologians, speculators of every 
school and shade who willingly enough in theory admitted the 
inadequacy of our intellect comprehensively to grasp and com- 
pletely understand the great realities with which they have 
dealt, had made this truth their practical guide, it is safe to 
say that an immense quantity of the learned volumes which 
burden the shelves of philosophical and theological libraries 
would never have seen the light. The Agnostic, for example, 
whose proudest boast is that he alone recognizes the finite 
nature of our intellect, no sooner enters into discussion with a 
theist than he insists, notwithstanding all the protests of his 
adversary, that the theist, if he speaks of God at all, must im- 
ply that his ideas fit their object with the accuracy of a mathe- 
matical definition. When the late John Fiske, summing up in 



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1903 ] Mr, W. H. Mallock's Defence of Religion. 153 

a few words a piece of reasoning which, in one place and 
another, covers many thousands of pages, declares that the im- 
possibility of reconciling Infinite Goodness and Infinite Power 
in God with the existence of evil puts theology in an inextrica 
ble dilemma, the speciousness of his argument depends on the 
assumption that our notions of these attributes must be taken 
to comprehensively and perfectly represent them. And on the 
same groundless postulate are based all agnostic attacks on 
theism. 

Nor is it the anti-theist alone who has failed to keep before 
his eyes the acknowledged limitations of the human intellect. 
Many a theologian and apologist have fallen into the same 
fault; and their mistake has been all the more glaring because 
it is often truths of revelation that they have reasoned upon as 
if these could be exhaustively stated in a logical formula. 
They have handled dogmas and definitions of the church as if 
they had penetrated their innermost implications and explored 
their entire scope. They failed to remember that, in the words 
of Father Hogan, creeds, definitions of faith, and dogmatic 
declarations " in many cases are only an approximative expres- 
sion of truths beyond the range of human intelligence; and 
even when the object is accessible, the expression may not be 
perfectly adapted to it, or be made to cover, by logical deduc- 
tion, much more than was ever intended by its authors." ♦ To 
make the matter worse, the reasoner has sometimes labelled his 
deduction de fide or proxima fidei ; thus modestly calling on 
followers to supplement their act of faith in the infallibility of 
the church with another in the inerrancy of his ratiocinative 
powers. Another cognate form of misdirected zeal is that of 
the apologist who undertakes completely to clear up all the 
difficulties and obscurities that hang around various points of 
Catholic doctrine. Our opponents, seeing that the proffered 
explanation does not explain, are only the more confirmed in 
their disbelief. This inveterate ambition to state divine truths 
in a comprehensive rational synthesis has been the fruitful 
mother of such weary, never-ending controversies as have been 
waged over rival theories concerning God's foreknowledge, pre- 
destination, divine concurrence, efficacious grace, and free-will ; 
and each side is as sure that its own view is correct, as the 
other side is that it leads to deadly error. 

* Clerical Studies, Edition 1898, p. 178. 

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154 MR. W. If. MALLOCK'S DEFENCE OF RELIGION. [May, 

The church herself acts otherwise. The truth conmitted to 
her care she teaches as her Master taught, in terms to be un- 
derstood even by the simplest. Her guardianship in the mat- 
ter is " to preserve the exact ideas which that simple language 
conveyed to its first hearers, knowing well that these human 
ideas and thought- forms are indefinitely inadequate to the eter- 
nal realities which they shadow forth." ** What docs she care/* 
continues Father Tyrrell, whose words have just been quoted, 
" about the metaphysics of transubstantiation except so far as 
metaphysicians have to be answered in their own language and 
on their own assumptions?"* The natural knowledge preva- 
lent among men at any particular age she uses as the most 
suitable vehicle to convey her divine message. But she does 
not undertake a synthesis of these two elements, nor does she 
guarantee the deductions which private erudition may make 
from such a synthesis. If the advance of the human mind dis- 
credits the natural knowledge of a particular age she cares not, 
for it was never hers. She is as much at home in an age 
which believes in the heliocentric theory as she was in one 
which held to the Ptolemaic. Her theologians have employed 
the principles of Aristotelian philosophy and the axioms of 
Roman jurisprudence to interpret the mysteries of the Incarna- 
tion and the Redemption. She knows that she can teach that the 
Word was made flesh, and that by His stripes we all are healed, 
to the Oriental mind that knows nothing of Justinian, and thinks 
in forms that cannot be reduced to those of the peripatetic 
philosophy. 

The present profound intellectual unrest in the Christian 
world relative to the results of modern criticism and science 
upon historic Christianity is not without effect upon many 
within the fold. Like Martha, some Catholics are troubled about 
many things, while there is but one thing necessary to our in- 
tellectual salvation. No facts established by the higher criticism 
or by science will ever be found to conflict with the teaching 
of the authoritative Guardian of doctrine. As in the past, some 
human opinions that in many minds have been inextricably 
mingled with Catholic doctrine may be consumed in the fierce 
^heat of the crucible in which truth is now tried ; but the pure 
gold of the church's teaching, when purified from this dross, 
will but shine with renewed splendor before the eyes of men. 

• Faith of the Millions, First Series, p. 239. 



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1903] May Customs in Italy. 155 




MAY CUSTOMS IN ITALY. 

BY GRACE V. CHRISTMAS. 

[he Italy of to-day and the Italy of yesterday are 
two very different countries. And yet, not- 
withstanding the twentieth century civilization 
and progress of modern Italy, with its electric 
trams, and its taxes, and its monster hotels, 
there lies deep down in the hearts of her people a vein of 
strong conservatism, a clinging to the traditions of a bygone 
day. A picturesque custom which existed in Rome some thirty 
years ago has now become only a memory of the past. This 
was the celebration of the *' Fragolata," or Strawberry Feast, 
when men in gala costume walked in procession through the 
streets carrying on their heads enormous wooden platters heaped 
high with the glowing crimson fruit, and accompanied by girls 
in gaily tinted attire, who danced along beside them, beating 
tambourines and singing the praises of the strawberry. Having 
thus made a triumphal progress through the city, they passed 
singing out of the gates, and spent the remainder of the day in 
merrymaking on the Campagna. From time immemorial it has 
been considered unlucky to marry in May, but according to 
ancient traditions, it is undoubtedly a month in which to make 
love. The ancient idea was to marry in June, which was 
dedicated to Juno, the goddess of marriage, and to occupy one's 
self with the preliminary courtship in the *' merry month of 
May," when Mother Earth breaks forth into blossom, leaf, and 
flower, and honors are paid to the *' Bona Dea." A reminis- 
cence of the festivals once held at this season is to be found 
in the "Infiorata," or Flower Festa, which is still celebrated in 
the quaint little town of Genzano, near the blue lake of Nemi. 
It takes place on the octave of the feast of Corpus Christi, and 
is said to receive its name from the custom of scattering flowers 
before the Blessed Sacrament; but it may be related to the 
ancient " Floralia," or ** Ludi Floralis,'* which were long ago 
celebrated in honor of Flora from the 28th of April to the 2d 
of May. This picturesque " festa " has been graphically described 



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156 Mav Customs in Italy. [May, 

by Story in his Roba di Roma : ** On this occasion the people 
are all dressed in their effective costumes, the girls in bodices 
and silken skirts with all their corals and jewels on, and the 
men with white stockings on their legs, their velvet jackets 
dropping over one shoulder, and flowers and rosettes in their 
conical hats. The town is then very gay, the bells clang, the 
incense streams from the censer in the church where the organ 
peals and Mass is said, and a brilliant procession marches over 
the strewn flower mosaic with music and cruciflxes and church 
banners. Hundreds of strangers, too, are there, to look on ; 
and on the Csesarini Piazza and under the shadow of the long 
avenue of ilexes that lead to the tower are hundreds of hand- 
some girls with their snowy ' toraglie ' peaked on their heads. 
The rub and thrum of tambourines and the clicking of castanets 
are heard, too, as twilight comes on and the " Salterello " is 
danced by many a group. This is the national Roman dance, 
and is named from the little jumping step which characterizes it. 
Any number of couples dance it, though the dance is perfect 
with two. Some of the movements are very graceful and 
piquant, and particularly that where one of the dancers kneels 
and whirls her arms on high, clicking her castanets, while the 
other circles her round and round, striking his hands together 
and approaching nearer and nearer. Of course it is the old 
story of every national dance — love and repulse, love and re- 
pulse, until the maiden yields. As one couple, panting and 
rosy, retires, another fresh one takes its place, while the by- 
standers play on the accordion the whirling, circling, never- 
ending tune of the * Tarantella.' 

Among the mountains of Pistoia the inhabitants invariably 
celebrate the return of spring on the first of May. The fes- 
tivities begin on the last evening in April, when a crowd of 
young men assemble together and form a procession through 
the towns and villages, singing and playing mandolins. Two or 
three carry a leaf- stripped tree, decorated with flowers and 
golden-hued lemons, which is called the " Maio," and others 
bring baskets filled with perfumed blossoms. As they march 
along they distribute these floral offerings to all the matrons 
and maids whom they encounter en route, and these in turn 
present them with eggs, small flasks of wine, and a sort of 
jumble cake cut in the shape of rings and adorned with red 
tassels. The " Maggi " which they sing so lustily on these 



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1903.] May Customs in Italy. 157 

occasions are as old as Italy herself and are very quaintly 
worded. This is a rough translation : f 

"We come our salute to bring 
To this brave house and good, 
Whose honor unshaken has stood, 
And therefore we' come to sing. 

'* And first we salute the master, 
And then his excellent wife. 
We know he 's in the Maremma : 
God grant them a good long life." 

Sometimes in the " Maggio " processions the " contadini," 
accompanied by oxen decorated with olive branches, bright 
ribbons, sheafs of grain and silver bells, made a tour of 
the fields singing and reciting verses by way of insuring good 
luck for the harvest. In other parts of Italy a band of women, 
headed by an elaborately dressed " contadina " called " Le 
Maggia," made a triumphal progress through the village, gra- 
ciously accepting the gifts which were showered upon them. 
In the days that were, the rustic lovers of Italy used to rise 
before the dawn on the ist of May and plant a branch of 
laburnum, or olive, or some flowering shrub before the door of 
the beloved object's house while they sang her "Maggi," by 
way of a matutinal serenade, if the expression is allowable. 
In the evening the girls and their attendant swains used to 
meet together in some grove and dance and sing. In many 
places bonfires blaze from the summits of hills or the crests of 
mountains, and in several Neapolitan towns the people build 
huge fires and dance wildly round the flames. Fire and noise 
are two most important adjuncts of festivity in the sunny 
South. 

It was in May, also, that the artists' feast was once held in 
the groves of Egeria, one of the loveliest spots in the wide- 
spreading Campagna. It was originally instituted by German 
artists, and though all nationalities were permitted to take part 
in it, its special directors invariably belonged to the Father- 
land. It was a motley scene. Every grotesque and ludicrous 
costume which the mind of man was capable of inventing was 
here represented, and after the wearers thereof had breakfasted 

• R6ba di Roma. 



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158 



May Customs in Italy. 



[May, 



the procession was formed. The president and committee drove 
in a wooden cart adorned with strange devices, garlanded with 
bay, and drawn by huge white oxen decorated with flowers ; 
while the rest followed on horses, donkeys, or on foot. Some- 
times a mock heroic drama was performed, or a travesty of the 
taking of Troy, and the festivities were ultimately concluded by 
an al fresco banquet with enormous barrels of wine placed at 
intervals upon the grass. Other times, other manners. In the 
Rome of to-day there is Very little merrymaking amongst its 
poverty-stricken and heavily- taxed population, and the ist of 
May in the *' Eternal City," as well as in Milan and Turin, is 
usually set aside as a day of ** strike " and riots on the part of 
the Italian workmen. 




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1903.] Saint Denis and its Royal tombs. 159 




SAINT DENIS AND ITS ROYAL TOMBS. 

BY MARY RICHARDS GRAY. 

" It rose before me patiently remote 
From the great tides of life it breasted once. 
Hearing the noise of men as in a dream, 
I stood before the triple western port 
Where dedicated shapes of saints and kings, 
Stem faces bleared with immemorial watch, 
Looked down benignly grave." 

[N the midst of the workaday world of St. Denis 
stands its old cathedral, the burial-place of the 
royalty of France. To us of the modern world 
it is a spot replete with memories of the past. 
It recalls the days when the church with its 
battlements and two tall towers, surrounded by its abbeys and 
chapels, dominated the great plain north of Paris beyond 
Montmartre, and was the Christian shrine towards which pil- 
grims wended their way along the cross- marked route taken 
by St. Denis on his miraculous journey. Then there came from 
the ends of the earth a motley crew — the prince with his 
courtly retinue, the beggar in rags, the knight on horseback, 
the shoeless palmer, the armed crusader, the wandering monk, 
the sick and the crippled, the afflicted and the gay, the high 
and low, in endless train, deeming that they "had seen naught 
of the civilized world if they had not seen the relics of St. 
Denis and gazed upon the .treasure which the church con- 
tained." Now the great Benedictine Abbey and mortuary 
chapels are gone. Hemmed in by tall mercantile buildings is 
the old church, bereft of one of its towers ; but it no longer 
signals from afar a welcome to the pilgrim. The stranger within 
the city must ask its location, and thread his way through a 
maze of dirt-begrimed streets or be rushed to its portals by 
tramcars; and while he gazes in awed silence upon the spot 
which holds the great of earth his reveries are disturbed by 
the hurly-burly and commotion of the busy manufacturing town. 
We visited the old church late one summer afternoon. The 
exterior, despite the brilliancy of the light, was gloomy, and 
the low, ordinary buildings crowded about it detracted from its 

VOL, LXXVII. — II 



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Saint Denis and its Royal Tombs. 



[May, 




Front View of the Church of St. Denis. 

impressiveness. Architecturally it is interesting in that it is 
the best example in France of thirteenth- century pointed Gothic 
architecture. We gazed at the three massive doorways with 
their carved stories, at the rose- window converted into a clock, 
at the surmounting battlements telling of the days when it 
was necessary to defend sacred places with carnal weapons; 
then stumbled through the dark vestibule built by Abb6 Suger 
into the church, where the lightness and brilliancy were in 
strange contrast to the gloom without. The arrangement is 
extremely simple : a long nave crossed by a single transept, 
with four stairways leading from this nave to a raised choir 



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1903] Saint Denis and its Royal Tombs. 161 

surrounded by radiating chapels. The central parts rise with m, 
lofty clerestory supported by tall, graceful marble columns. 
In the aisles, in the transepts, and around the sides of the 
church are the memorials of the noble dead. Simple sarcoph- 
agi, carved mausoleums of priceless worth, sculptured urns tell 
us where to find their mortal remains, if there be any after 
the desecrations and vicissitudes which have befallen them. 
Bathed in the glowing tints cast upon it by the kaleidoscopic 
play of color through windows which symbolize, as it were, 
the walls of the heavenly city set with jasper and precious 
stones, the church did not seem a charnel-house. We quite 
agree with Michelet in saying : " This church is not a sad and 
pagan necropolis, but glorious and triumphant; brilliant with 
faith and hope; vast and without shade, like the soul of the 
saint who built it; light and airy as if not to weigh on the 
dead or hinder their spring upward to starry spheres." 

Shuffling his slippered feet on the stone floor, and rattling 
his keys to emphasize his importance, came the old sacristan 
to greet us. In appearance he seemed almost of the dead 
over whom he kept watch. Wearily he dragged himself along, 
unlocking the chapels and droning out enough sing-song ex- 
planations to warrant his demanding a good- sized tip. 

Of the curious old tombs the first to attract our attention 
was an enormous canopied structure at the right of the high 
altar, the tomb of King Dagobert, who died in 638 in the 
Abbey of St. Denis, and was buried in its church. For us the 
chief interest in this Gothic pile centres in the three alto- 
reliefs above the sarcophagus, which is guarded on the one 
side by a statue of his queen, Nanthilde, and on the other 
by one of his sons, Clovis II. The carvings represent a 
legend taken from " Gesta Dagoberti," which says that " when 
Dagobert was dying, St. Denis appeared to a holy hermit on 
the shore of Sicily, commanding him to rise instantly and pray 
for the soul of the departing king. The hermit obeyed ; but 
scarcely had he done so when on the neighboring sea he be^ 
held the king lying on the bottom of the boat, and beinj^ 
flogged by demons while he cried in his agony to his favorite 
saints, Denis, Maurice, and Martin. The three hearing his 
supplications appeared in the midst of a mighty tempest, 
snatched their servant from his oppressors and bore him on a 
sheet to celestial spheres, singing as they went the words of 



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r62 



Saint Denis and its Royal Tombs, [May, 




Tomb of Henry II. and Cathbbine de Medici. 



the 65 th Psalm : ' Blessed ig the man whom Thou choosest and 
causest to approach unto Thee, that he may dwell in Thy courts.' " 

According to an old thirteenth century chronicler, Guillaume 
de Nangis, this monument was once richly colored; few traces 
of this color, however, may be seen on it to-day. 

More curious and more ancient than this is the tomb of 
Fred^gonde, the wife of Chilperic I., who passed into glory in 
the year 597 after having crowned her earthly accomplishments 
with the murder of the Bishop Pretextatus at the church altar. 
She had other worthy victims — a brother-in-law, a stepson, and 



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1903.] Saint Denis and its Royal Tombs. 163 

a husband — but, as they did not seek the refuge of sanctuary^ 
no particular importance attaches to- their mysterious and 
untimely departure. This memorial is a mosaic of small pieces 
of different-colored marbles mingled with bits of copper, fashioned 
in the form of a woman's figure and placed in the floor. The 
hands and the feet are of the stone itself, their shape being 
outlined by a narrow band of mosaic work. 

The three most beautiful and most elaborate mausoleums are 
those of Louis XII. and Anne of Brittany, Francis I. and Claude 
of France, Henry II. and Catherine de Medici, all enormous 
structures Renaissance in style, similar in design, and executed 
Dy the first French artists of their day. The idea in each is 
the same, the contrast of life and death. The tomb of Louis 
XII. and Anne of Brittany, an oblong block of marble support- 
ing an edifice pierced by twelve arches, is really a small temple. 
On the top, removed from the grave at the base, clothed in 
robes of state, kneel the royal pair in prayer; while within they 
are represented again, lying upon their coffins, entirely nude, 
struggling with death. Arranged in the arches are the Apostles; 
at the corners sit four statues, Fortitude, Justice, Prudence, and 
Temperance, symbolical figures of the virtues which rulers 
should possess; on the pedestal are exquisite bas-reliefs of Louis* 
campaigns in Italy. " In this monument," says Lubke, ** French 
sculpture attained its classical perfection." 

Besides the tomb of Francis I. there is in the Chapel of St. 
Michel an urn containing his heart, which originally belonged to 
the Sisters of Val-de- Grace. In accordance with the custom 
prevalent in an early day the bodies of sovereigns were divided 
into three parts — body, heart, and intestines — and interred in 
different places, so that as many shrines as possible might derive 
benefit from them. King Francis' heart was kept at Ram- 
bouillet until after the Revolution, when it was brought to St. 
Denis. Its receptacle, a white marble urn, exquisitely graceful 
in shape, suggests a classical model. The reliefs almost cover- 
ing it represent Faith and the Church, the arts and the 
sciences. Around the base runs a frieze of cross-bones and 
skulls, a design dear to the mediaeval mind. 

Italian in style is the white marble tomb of Ren^e d'Orleans, 
the seven-year- old daughter of Francis II. The crowned effigy 
of the child holding a rosary rests upon a slab of black marble 



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i64 Saint Denis and its Royal Tombs. . [May, 



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The Urn containing the Heart of Francis I. 

supported on a sarcophagus decorated with statuettes of virgin 
saints. Above and watching over the recumbent figure are the 
Madonna, Margaret, Catherine, Barbara, and Genevieve, the 
latter bearing a lighted taper which a devil tries to extinguish 
and an angel to keep lighted. 

On the tomb of Isabelle d'Aragon, in white marble lettering 
inlaid in the black of the sarcophagus, is the most ancient of 
the rhythmical inscriptions : 

" Dysabel lame ait paradys 
Dom li cors gist sovz cest ymage 



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1903.] Saint Denis and its Royal Tombs. 165 

Fame av roi philippe ia dis 
Fill louis roi mort en cartage 
Le jovr de sainte agnes seconde 
Lan mil CC dis et soisente 
A cusance fv morte av monde 
Vie sanz fin dexli consente." 

Besides royalty, one woman, a number of abbots, several council- 
lors, and four warriors, Du Guesclin chief among them, were 
buried here. Only a small recumbent figure, worn and mutilated, 
recalls the fame of the beloved hero, the doughty knight who 
fought valiantly in the long wars with England. 

Leaving the church we descended into the crypt. There in 
the walled* up chapel, Le Caveau de Turenne, are the remains 
of the bodies which were gathered up after the desecrations of 
the Revolution ; in an inner room are a few unimportant tombs, 
and, in the chapels under the choir, statues of Louis XVL and 
Marie Antoinette, works of no artistic merit yet possessing a 
sentimental value. 

At present there are in their restored form at St. Denis one 
hondred and sixty- seven tombs, many of which were brought 
from other churches after the Revolution, when Lenoir took in 
hand the matter of collecting and restoring them. Chronology 
begins with the statue of Clovis I. (481-5 1 1) and ends with a 
bust of Louis XVIIL 

Returning to the church we sat down close to the tomb of 
Dagobert to muse, to picture to ourselves the old church in 
greater glory than that shed upon her by the rays of the de- 
clining sun, to live again the memorable scenes of French his- 
tory which have taken place here. Of the many legends and 
stories which have grown up about the church and those con- 
nected with it, first in importance is that of the patron saint, 
Denis. Butler says he was a missionary, sent out from Rome, 
who was beheaded along with Rusticus, a priest, and Eleu- 
therius, a deacon, in the reign of Maximian Herculeus. The 
bodies of the three martyrs were thrown into the Seine, but> 
taken up by a Christian lady, named Catalla, and honorably 
buried near the place where they were beheaded. Over their 
grraves the Christians built a chapel, which through the pious ex- 
hortations of Genevieve was replaced by a church. This church 
fell into decay, but in the seventh century Dagobert rebuilt it; 



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1 66 



Saint Denis and its Royal Tombs. 



[May, 




Statue of Louis XVI. in the Crypt. 

then, all through the Middle Ages it was restored and rebuilt 
by succeeding kings, and very recently by Viollet-le-Duc. 
About this story of the beheading of St. Denis grew the tale 
that a miracle occurred at that time. According to popular 
belief Denis, after having suffered martyrdom, picked up his 
dissevered head and walked with it to the place where he 
wished to be buried, the present site of the church. It is this 
story that we find represented so often in art. In the time of 
Dagobert came the wonderful dedication of St. Denis, witnessed 
only by a poor leper shut up in the church. At the dead of 
night he was startled to see before him in dazzling light the 



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1903.] Saint Denis and its Royal Tombs. 167 

Saviour, His Apostles, a multitude of angels, and Sts. Denis, Rus- 
ticus, and Eleutherius. Our Lord, having sprinkled the church 
with holy water served him by the three saints, said to the leper : 
** Go tell good King Dagobert what thou hast seen." 
** But how can a poor leper penetrate the presence of the 
king ? " he answered. The Saviour touched him with his finger 
and he was made clean, and did as he was bidden. The king, 
already impressed by the story, believed it, and devoted him- 
self to the church, which he rebuilt; and the monastery in 
connection with it he endowed with such wealth that he was 
looked upon as its founder, the monks celebrating with great pomp 
and ceremony his festival each year on the 19th of January. 

It was in 753 that Pope Stephen II. consecrated the high 
altar and made the abbot the primate of all the prelates of 
France, granting him the privilege of having six deacons vested 
in dalmatics. Later Charlemagne, because of the wonderful 
dedication of the church, made it the chief and mistress of all 
the churches of the kingdom. The magnificence and the splen- 
dor of its abbots was unsurpassed. . An old epigram says: 

" Au temps passe du siecle d'or 
Crosse de bois, Eveque d'or, 
Maintenant changent les lois 
Crosse d*or, Eveque de bois.'* 

Not all the abbots indulged in display; Abb^ Suger was a 
notable exception. Against his will raised to a position of 
greatest power, he was at heart a simple monk, preferring a 
cell to the palace of the king. In remodelling St. Denis, as he 
was commanded to do, during the absence of King Louis on 
the second Crusade, his ideas were all for grandeur, but in 
building for himself naught was too lowly. He had a cell fif- 
teen feet long and ten feet wide constructed in the very shadow 
of the great church, and in it he lived in accordance with 
strictest monastic rules. He had neither curtains nor tapestries ; 
his bed was of straw. Peter the Venerable, Abbot of Cluny, 
who once visited the church, coming upon the cell exclaimed : 

" Behold a man who condemns us all ! " 

The relics of St. Denis and the treasury, one of the richest 
of mediaeval times, attracted pilgrims from all parts of the 
world. Some came from love and a sense of duty, some to be 
cured, and others from idle curiosity. Among the relics were 



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1 68 Saint Denis and its Royal Tombs. [May, 




The Martyrdom of St. Denis.— By Bonnat. 

the bones of the saint preserved in the chapel in the crypt, 
the famous head of silver gilt containing his skull, his mitre, his 
chalice, his rings, and his miraculous keys, "which they apply 
to the faces of those persons who have been so unfortunate as 
to be bitten by mad dogs, and who receive a certain immediate 
relief by only touching them." 

The treasury contained the wonderful cup set with precious 
stones which once belonged to King Solomon, the nail of a 
griffin upon a silver gilt animal, a unicorn's horn six feet high 
sent by Aaron, King of Persia, to Charlemagne, the hunting horn 
of Roland, a rock crystal vase from the Temple, the lantern 
used at the betrayal of our Lord in the Garden and called 
" the lantern of Judas," Joan of Arc's sword, Charlemagne's 
chess-board and chess-men, his cross and sceptre, Louis IX.'s 
crown and ring, and Philip Augustus' jewels. Nearly all the 



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1903] Saint Denis and its Royal Tombs. 169 

early kings left their crowns to the treasury. These on festi- 
val days were suspended around the high altar, which was 
illuminated by sixty great candles. Persons of high and low 
degree vied with each other in lavishing gifts upon the church. 
Joubert explains this spell which she cast over men's minds 
when he says: **The pomps and magnificence with which the 
church is reproached are in truth the result and proof of her 
incomparable excellence. Whence came, let me ask, this power 
of hers and these excessive riches, except from the enchant- 
ment into which she threw all the world? Ravished with her 
beauty, millions of men from age to age kept loading her with 
gifts, bequestSp and cessions. She had the talent of making 
herself loved and the talent of making men happy. It is that 
which wrought prodigies for her, it is thence she drew her 
power." 

Few churches have seen more of earthly grandeur, pomp, 
changes, and desecration than St. Denis. Within its sacred pre- 
cincts have been acted many of the most memorable scenes in 
French history. Here Stephen II. took refuge from the Lom- 
bards, and remained a whole year waiting for the French king 
to aid him in defeating his foes. Here Louis VI. solemnly 
adopted the oriflamme, the standard of St. Denis, as the banner 
of the kings of France. Here he suspended its scarlet folds, 
fastened to a gilded lance, above the high altar, whence it was 
never removed except when the king took the battle-field in 
person — occasions attended by elaborate ceremonies. It was this 
banner which in some mysterious manner disappeared either at 
Agincourt or Rosbec. Here Abelard spent a year or more in 
retirement. Here the Maid of Orleans, her victories won, hung 
up her arms in 1429. Here in 1593 Henry IV. abjured his 
"accursed heresy." Here, during the Revolution, occurred scenes 
of awful desecration, for the Convention decreed that the Revo- 
lutionists should celebrate the first anniversary of the fall of the 
monarchy by demolishing tombs, their object being to destroy 
every vestige of royalty, to obtain the lead of the coffins for 
bullets, and to find perhaps buried treasures. One writer in 
describing what took place says : 

" The people, in savage fury over its tombs, seemed to ex- 
hume its own history and cast it to the winds. The axe broke 
the iron gates given by Charlemagne to the basilica of St. 
Denis. Railings, roof-pieces, statues all crumbled into fragments 



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I70 



Saint Denis and its Royal Tombs. 



[May, 




Tomb of Renke d'Orl^ans. 



beneath the hammer. Stones were torn up, tombs violated, 
coffins smashed in. A mocking curiosity examined under the 
bandages and shrouds the embalmed bodies, the consumed flesh, 
the calcined bones, the empty skulls of kings, queens, princes, 
ministers, or bishops, whose names had echoed through the 
past history of France. Pepin, the founder of the Carlovingian 
dynasty and the father of Charlemagne, was only a pinch of 
gray dust that the wind carried oflf. The mutilated heads of 
the Turennes, the Duguesclins, Louis XII., Francis I. rolled on 
the parvis. Every step was on piles of sceptres, crowns, pastoral 



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^903] Saint Denis and its Royal Tombs. 171 

staves, historic or religious attributes. An immense ditch, the 
sides of which were covered with quicklime to destroy the 
bodies, was dug in one of the outer cemeteries, called the 
Cemetery of the Valois, Perfumes were burned in the vaults to 
purify the air. After every blow of the axe, the shouts of the 
diggers were heard as they discovered the remains of a king, 
and played with his bones." 

" Henry IV., skilfully embalmed by Italians, preserved his 
historic countenance. His chest, when exposed, still displayed 
the wounds by which his life had fled. His beard, scented and 
spread out in fan-shape, as in his pictures, evinced the care which 
this voluptuous king took ab3ut his appearance. His memory, 
dear to the people, protected him for a moment from profana- 
tion. The crowd defiled in silence for two days before this still 
popular corpse. Placed in the choir at the foot of the altar, he 
received in death the respectful homage of the mutilators of 
royalty. Javogues, a representative of the people, was indignant 
at such posthumous superstition. He endeavored to demonstrate 
in a few words to the people that this king, brave and amorous, 
had been the seducer rather than the saver of his people. ' He 
deceived,' said Javogues, * God, his mistresses, and his people ; 
let him not deceive posterity and your justice.' The corpse of 
Henry IV. was flung into the common grave. 

" Louis XIV. was a black amorphous mass of spices. The 
man was lost after death in perfumes, as during life in pride. 

" Louis XV. came last from the tomb. The infection of his 
reign seemed to rise from his sepulchre. A mass of powder 
had to be burned to dissipate the mephitic odor of the corpse 
of this prince, whose scandals had degraded royalty." 

After the destruction of the tombs the church, first a market, 
became in turn a Temple of Reason, a depot of artillery, a 
theatre for acrobats, a flour warehouse, and a granary ; the final 
act of desecration being accomplished by taking out the beauti- 
ful stained glass of the windows and converting the lead of the 
roof into bullets. For years it stood without a covering, although 
it was in 1795 made a parish church. 

Fallen from its high estate, its treasures gone, restored and 
renewed in all its parts, St. Denis is still great in the memory 
of its past glories, of its past history, comprising a period of 
almost twelve centuries, of the royal dead who slumber within 
its walls. 



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172 A RouMANiAfj Heroine, [May, 




A ROUMANIAN HEROINE. 

BY B. TEELING. 

[HE year 1848 was a memorable year for Europe. 
Murmurs of discontent, whispers of rebellion, 
tidings of petty revolutions here and there, 
filled men's thoughts; from Ireland's little band 
of patriots with their bright, youthful aspira- 
tions and poetic enthusiasms, to the unlettered peasant of ob- 
scure eastern provinces, who, fired by those sullen rumors of 
freedom's dawn which had filtered across his frontier, resolved 
to shake off the usurper's yoke and be free. 

Some two years before that " new era in the history of the 
stretch of time," a quiet little drama was being played in pre- 
paration for its dawn. The '' beautiful blue Danube " bears on 
its broad bosom many a boat-load of human joys and sorrows, 
as its crowded steamers pass up and down between the various 
Hungarian and Roumanian ports. 

" Beautifully fitted up and kept with scrupulous care, they 
boast an admirable cuisine^ and nothing can be more agreeable 
than a voyage up or down the river during the autumn 
months," writes a traveller, especially when the crowds of 
fashionable Moldo-Wallachians are returning home from their 
annual tour to Paris or the German baths. Enthusiastic globe- 
trotters declare the journey affords "the finest bit of river 
scenery in Europe," especially that in the vicinity of the world- 
renowned Iron Gates, where " the mountains rising high on 
each side of the Danube, the rushing torrent, roaring and 
seething and boiling as it dashes on, the countless shoals, 
eddies, and whirlpools, with the bit of bright blue sky over- 
head, spotted with fleecy clouds, all combine to offer materials 
for a picture which is one of the most striking in the world " ; 
while here a solitary sentinel in Austrian uniform, there an 
oriental-looking Turkish fez, or a group of Wallachian peasants 
in rags and dirt, their long, unkempt locks surmounted by a 
Dacian cap, lend a touch of human interest to the landscape. 



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r 



1903.] A ROUMANIAN HEROINE. 1 73 

which, however, becomes wilder and less cultivated as you ap- 
proach the Roumanian capital. 

On a calm summer's night, in the year before mentioned, 
one of the usual passenger steamers, with its gay crowd of 
homeward bound travellers, was moving slowly with the stream 
between those wild and picturesque shores towards their desti- 
nation, the now Roumanian capital, then, after many vicissi- 
tudes, under the sway of Russia, while its people secretly 
yearned after national independence, or, at the worst, the 
Turkish rule. 

Among the many lively and talkative groups which paced 
the deck, or leaned chatting over the bulwarks discussing the 
varying scenes of village, plain, or hill as they passed, two 
ladies sat apart, conversing but little, and evidently strangers to the 
rest. The younger of the two, a slight, dark-eyed girl of some 
sixteen summers, seemed keenly observant of their fellow- 
travellers, and remarked to her elderly chaperone that while 
most among the crowd seemed old acquaintances, one young 
man, who nevertheless exchanged an occasional greeting here 
and there, sat silent and apart, watching with sad and pensive 
eye the frolics of the coquettish Moldavian maidens and Wal- 
lachian youths. 

Night came on; so warm and still a night that few if any 
thought of going below; and as the stars came out, and the 
full summer moon sailed into the dark sky, flooding all things 
with its silvery light, many were the exclamations at its beauty. 

" Quelle belle lune ! " murmured the elder lady to her com- 
panion. 

" Oui," sighed the girl, " et pourtant, elle se leve sur bien 
des malheureux ! " 

She had not noticed, as she spoke, the dark figure at her 
side; but as it turned at her words she recognized the silent 
passenger of all that day. He turned too and looked at her, 
but said nothing; till, the next day, finding himself again near 
her, he took occasion, on rendering her a small service, to 
enter into conversation ; and, a town being mentioned which 
the vessel was approaching, he asked whether that was her 
destination. 

" No," replied she, " I am going to Bucharest." 

" That is my native town," he smiled. " May I ask, have 
you any friends there?" 



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174 . ^ ROUMANIAN HEROINE, [May, 

** I am going ^ to my brother, Mr. Effingham Grant, the 
English Consul." 

" Effingham Grant ? Why, he is my dearest friend ! " 

Mutual explanations foUawed, the young man claiming the 
privilege of helping and escorting his friend's sister for the 
rest of her journey, while she told him how, their parents 
being dead, she had been educated in France, and was now 
going to make her home with her elder brother. 

After this the time passed all too swiftly, and when the 
dimly lighted and roughly paved streets of the Wallachian 
capital were reached after a two hours* journey from Guirgin, 
the Danubian port, little Marie Grant threw herself into her 
brother's arms and poured out the story of their travels. 

" Rosetti ? My friend, Count Rosetti ? Why, yes, he is 
our great patriot- poet. Take care, Marie, that you do not 
lose your heart to him, for he has vowed never to marry ! " 

" Indeed, and why ? " 

"Because he feels so deeply the slavery of his downtrodden 
nation. Because he declares that his bride is his country and 
he will have no other love ! " 

Nothing could have been better calculated to touch the 
romantic side of a young girl's imaginative nature ; and it 
need not be said that while Count Rosetti, half attracted by 
the girlish sympathy which responded so gracefully to his 
patriotic aspirations, and half absorbed in graver cares of politi- 
cal import, dreamed but of platonic friendship, Marie Grant, on 
her side, was quickly assimilating all the half-poetic, half- 
patriotic sentiments of his party, and identifying herself with 
them as far as she was able. 

Over the opening volcano of impending revolution the 
light-hearted. Roumanians danced and laughed and played to 
their hearts' content, and even the grave young count had to 
jest with the rest; and so one day, in the English consul's 
drawing-room, one of the beauties of their circle, a young girl 
staying with the Grants, caught up a roll of paper from a 
table and waved it above her head, with a laughing "What 
will you give me for this ? " 

" Nothing, for I will take it ! " cried Rosetti, with a dex- 
trous movement gaining possession of it and running out of 
the room, calling back adieus as he went. 

The girl, half-frightened at what she had done, ran out and 



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1903.] A ROUMANIAN HEROINE. 175 

leaned over the balcony: "Monsieur Rosetti, take care! That 

paper does not belong to Mademoiselle Marie X (herself), 

but to Mademoiselle Marie Grant ! " 

He probably did not hear what she said, for, as she spoke, 
he looked laughingly upwards, stepped into a carriage at the 
door and drove oflf. 

It is so old a story that, were these events not true in 
every particular, I might be accused of using a very stale de- 
vice to bring about the denouement of my story. The next 
morning a pale and troubled young man made his way to the 
residence of the English consul and asked for Marie Grant. 
She came, unsuspecting, at his request. 

He told her what had occurred ; told her that he had sat 
up all night reading — what he believed, at first, to be the 

journal of Marie X , but found to be the heart's outpouring 

of another, whose every thought, every feeling, thrilled in re- 
sponse to his; told her of how he had resolved never to 
marry, for his country's sake ; told how, even now, his move- 
ments were dictated by political necessities, his life and his 
possessions devoted to a well-nigh hopeless cause. And, after 
all that, reading what he had read, knowing now what he knew, 
he had come to ask — would she share them ? 

One wonders, somewhat, that Mr. Grant should have per- 
mitted his sister to unite her lot in life with one whose lines 
were cast in such troublous waters; but perhaps he was too 
much accustomed to the underlying murmurs of revolt and seeth- 
ing discontent around them to foresee the coming storm. 

And the Grants' own family history was romantic enough. 
It seems that in a certain obscure little island, ruled by Norman 
laws but under British rule, and boasting the presence of an 
English governor and regiment, there was, somewhere about the 
beginning of the nineteenth century, a small toy shop in one 
of its narrow, ill-paved streets, kept by two maiden sisters, the 
Misses Le Lacheur. There was a younger sister, too, in the 
background, a pretty, dark eyed, dainty thing, of the tiny, 
vivacious type common to most of the true-bred islanders, who 
claimed descent from fairy ancestry ; and little Marie was the 
darling of her old father's heart, and strictly forbidden, under 
any pretext, to enter the shop. 

But one day, so strong is fate, she happened to look in for 
a moment, just as two young English officers from "the Fort" 

VOL. LXXVII. — 12 

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176 A ROUMANIAN HEROINE. [May, 

were standing there, on some quest of little moment ; and the 
younger of the two men, as she left the shop again, turned to 
his companion, and said, half laughingly no doubt, '^ If ever I 
marry, that girl shall be my wife!" 

" Nonsense, Grant ! " replied the other, and hurried him out, 
thinking such a sentiment ** almost beyond a joke." 

But the next day young Grant returned alone, and boldly 
asked the prim shopwomen for a sight of their sister. They 
refused indignantly, saying that their father did not permit her 
to come into the shop ; but while they were in the very act of 
protesting, the cool young Scotchman looked across the counter 
at the little curtained door leading into the back parlor which 
formed the communication between shop and dwelling house, 
and espied the girl herself, sitting idly over the fire. Without 
more ado he lifted the partition, went in, and began to talk to 
her, while she, nothing loath, responded shyly in her pretty, 
broken English — for the old Norman French was their native 
language, spoken in those days, by all classes, throughout the 
island — and somehow, in the end, father and sisters were not 
proof against the lovers' pleadings, and when that regiment left 
for another station young Grant and little Marie were husband 
and wife. 

The little fifteen-year-old "French" wife went everywhere 
with the regiment, and they had a numerous family of children, 
two of whom, Effingham and Marie, we now find established at 
Bucharest, Marie married to Count Rosetti, and her brother, I 
fancy, wedded to some fair Roumanian, whence he sent his two 
little sons, " Effie " and ** Edward," to the college of their 
grandmother's native land for education, later on, where the 
present writer knew them. 

But long before this the terrible year 1848 had dawned, 
pregnant with armed forces and redolent of revolutions. 
Roumania, for centuries the battle-ground of contending forces 
— it had been six times occupied by Russian forces within less 
than a century (from 1768 to 1854), and six times reconquered 
by triumphant Turks — began to murmur a low, strong protest 
and claim to self-government ; and the echoes of Parisian re- 
volt came quickly to fan the flame. 

The Roumanians have ever been keenly sympathetic with 
France ; they are Latin and sister races, and as such radically 
antagonistic to Slav or Czech or Ottoman; and when French 



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1903.] A ROUMANIAN HEROINE. 177 

poets and politicians cried out freedom, their Roumanian kin 
responded -with Liber te et la terre — the cry of Ireland too, the 
desire after peasant proprietorship common to all small countries. 
They believed themselves Romans, descendants of ancient heroes, 
persecuted, oppressed, tossed from Russia to Turkey, ground 
down by Greek hospodars, coveted by Austrian statesmen, 
yet rising hopefully and gaily, time after time, to look out for 
a brighter future. 

They are a gay, light-hearted people, these Roumanians; 
very proud of the purity and antiquity of their race — for they 
claim to be direct descendants of the legionaries and other 
colonists who were transplanted into Dacia by Trajan after his 
conquest of that province, though, as a matter of fact, they 
and their language are hardly less composite than' most other 
modem groups of the human family and tongues. They seem, 
amongst other peculiarities, to have preserved to a large extent 
the social divisions of semi-feudal times, the pure-blood Rouman- 
ian belong^ing almost exclusively* to one of two clashes, the 
noblemen or aristocrats (so-called boyards) and the peasants. 
The middle class or bourgoisie, to be met with in their towns, 
is composed of foreigners — French, Germans, and Jews, for the 
most part, with a sprinkling of Armenians and Greeks — who 
form the more business-like portion of the community, for 
though " once every nobleman was a hero, now high birth is 
synonymous with effeminacy, profligacy, and indolence." One 
of their number confessed to a French writer, M. Saint- Marc 
Girardin, that " our manners are a Jittle the manners, or rather 
the vices, of all the peoples who have governed or protected 
OS. We have borrowed from the Russians their libertinage, 
from the Greeks their lack of honesty, from the Phanariote 
princes their mixture of baseness and vanity, from the Turks 
their indolence and love of ease. The Poles have taught us 
divorce, and have given us that swarm of Jews of low origin 
which you see everywhere in our streets. Such are our morals ! " 

The Roumanian peasant, on the contrary, is the representa- 
tive of the best type of manhood of his country, and recalls 
the sturdy Dacian of old, and all the glorious traditions of the 
past. 

"The Roumanian peasantry is, like its so-called Italian fore- 
fathers, almost exclusively military and agricultural; for in the 
large towns — Bucharest, for example — the servants are usually 



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178 A ROUMANIAN HEROINE. [May, 

either gypsies or Szeklers of Transylvania. The Roumanian 
peasant is generally a well-knit, hardy man, with long hair and 
drooping moustache, and an aquiline nose, which strongly re- 
minds the stranger of certain statues of the best Roman type. 
He is good-tempered and witty, speaks his language with 
wonderful purity and correctness, and is perfectly satisfied so 
long as his oxen thrive and his favorite tobacco box can be re- 
plenished. The misery and wretchedness of the past, instead of 
brutalizing his character, have lent a softness, not unmixed with 
irony, to his glance. He is clever and intelligent, and the 
only hatred which he still nourishes is directed against the 
Mouscal, as he terms the Muscovite." 

His dress is not the least interesting part of him, being, it 
is said, identical with that worn under Trajan's rule, and con- 
sists of a tunic or shirt of thick, coarse linen, worn over breeches 
of the same material, and confined by a broad leathern belt, 
into which are stuck his knife, pouch, and other articles. On 
his feet are shoes, or rather .sandals, cut out of sheepskin and 
bound on the foot with strips of cloth. An embroidered 
waistcoat and a sheepskin coat are added in winter, which with 
the high, black woollen Dacian cap of antiquity, and large, 
well- greased snow-boots, complete his attire. 

The Roumanian women are famed for their beauty, their 
sprightly wit and ready tongues, all of which make them charm- 
ing companions. Their dark, speaking eyes, and wealth of 
raven hair, light but well-rounded figures and tiniest of hands 
and feet, would be envied by many a Parisian belle, and, like 
the Basque women, their graceful carriage and well-knit frames 
know no distinction of class ; the lowliest peasant will carry her 
burden or basket upon her head to market, or in paniers rest- 
ing in a wooden frame upon her shoulders, with the ease of 
perfect and untiammelled health, dressed in the still national 
costume of white chemisette embroidered in color, short skirts, 
and broad, colored girdle. Married women, as in other coun- 
tries, cover their heads with white 'kerchiefs ; unmarried girls go 
uncovered, with broad plaits of hair hanging down behind, in- 
terwoven, on festal occasions, with the coins which are to form 
their dowry — a quaint and somewhat barbaric custom. They 
pass the greater p4rt of their time in spinning, and weave car- 
pets and embroidered fabrics which are said to be unsurpassed 
elsewhere. 



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1903.] A Roumanian Heroine. 179 

Their language, a branch of the wide-spread Romance family, 
is, like the rest, founded upon the Latin of old Rome, inter- 
mingled with dialectic influences from their neighbors on either 
side, who have left traces of Greek, Turkish, French, and Sla- 
vonic derivations through the graceful and musical tongue in 
which the modern Roumanian converses; although, indeed, 
almost every educated man and woman can express himself 
with sufficient fluency in French, German, and even English, 
while the former language has now superseded, at court, the 
modern Greek which was, until lately, the language of the 
higher classes. 

Such was, and still is, 'the perhaps uncultured but poetic 
and singularly interesting people whom Count Rosetti and his 
friends had vowed to serve and to set free. Among the little 
band of patriots who had dedicated their lives to this high pur- 
pose were such names as H^liade, a professor in the college 
at Bucharest, and an author and poet of no mean order, He 
wrote on patriotic and historic themes, and sang of the rivers 
and hills of his native country, and of its heroes of long ago, 
who from Trajan's time to the present had suffered and died 
for her. Another of his school was Carlova, a young poet 
who died at twenty-two ; and then Alexandresco, the Rou- 
manian La Fontaine ; Boliaco, whom we shall find presently a 
prisoner for the cause of liberty with their leader, and a singer, 
like him, of national ballads ; Jean Bratiano, another of Rosetti's 
early companions, and the only name we find later among those 
holding office under the new stranger prince from Germany; 
and many others less known outside their own country. 

While on the subject of names we may remark that while 
the Golescos, the Btatianos^ the Gradistianos, the Varescos, and 
in fact all those terminating in esco or ano^ are of pure Rou- 
manian origin, some of the most prominent families in the 
principality owe their being to an alien source; as, for exam- 
ple, the house of Ghika comes from Albania, that of Ypsilanti 
from Trebizond, the Soutzos from Bulgaria, and the Rosettis 
from Genoa, while the Cantacuzenes are not Cantacuzenes at 
all, but Magoureanos; and the Mavrocordatos and Maurojenis 
came from Miconi, in the Archipelago. 

But to return to the year 1848. Its dawning brought to 
the Roumanian peasants, and to their leaders, that supreme 



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l8o A ROUMANIAN HEROINE. [May, 

moment for which they had waited so long, in which they 
might give the signal for a general rising. The French Repub- 
lic was proclaimed in February, 1848, and Neqfchatel, Bavaria, 
Vienna, Berlin, Venice, Tuscany, Rome itself, caught the infec- 
tion of the prevailing spirit of revolt. Finally, on the i8th 
of June, Count Rosetti stood by his wife's bedside, watch in 
hand, waiting for the moment when he must leave her, in the 
pangs of a first labor, to uplift the standard of rebellion against 
Russian rule. 

Surrounded by spies, they dared not utter the words which 
trembled on the lips of each, but at length the hour of peril 
was past, and " Thank God, now you can embrace it and go ! " 
were the young mother's first words, as her husband stooped to 
bid farewell to her and to his first-born. Then, for the first 
time since their union, his alone was the path of action, as he 
went out to rouse the sleeping lion of a people that waited for 
freedom, and to summon his nation to take up arms, while to 
her remained the far more difficult task of silent suffering — the 
woman's part, everywhere; waiting, for the blow had not yet 
been struck, and she knew not who to trust. She dared not 
speak— dared not even be alone, or refuse the gossips' visits 
customary on such occasions, though she knew that curious, 
unfriendly eyes watched her every movement. 

Then, on the twenty- third, the tumult began without. One 
of her well-meaning visitors murmured, " Rosetti should hide ; 
he is in danger ! " and presently a friend of his own, pale and 
trembling, came to the bedside, whispering " Rosetti is arrested ! " 
But almost as he said it, the excited populace had surged 
round the prison doors, broken them open, and delivered their 
champions, forcing the Prince Hospodar, their hated governor, 
to abdicate. Rosetti helped him in his flight, nay, even pro- 
cured a safe-conduct for his universally detested prime minister, 
whom the people, burning to avenge their wrongs, sought high 
and low in vain. 

When they discovered his flight the streets rang with the 
cry, " Who saved him ? Treason ! Treason ! " and Count Ro- 
setti, coming out on a balcony, took up the words : " Who 
saved him? // was I/** There was a moment of silence, and 
then — a thunder of applause. The people recognized the gen- 
erosity of their hero, and rent the air with their shouts as they 
pelted him with flowers. 



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1903.] A ROUMANIAN HEROINE. 181 

As he passed along the streets to his own house amid the 
plaudits of the crowd, one of the great ladies of the town 
handed him a wreath of red, white, and blue colors, the French 
colors, woven from the costly window-garden of her mansion ; 
and he laid it upon his wife's bed as he entered the room 
where she lay trembling in tearful joy, whispering as he clasped 
her in his arms, " Thou hast deserved it too ! " 

For one brief hour they rejoice together, deeming the vic- 
tory won, and while the people shouted and sang without, the 
proud young parents laid politics aside to caress their baby 
girl, and to call her "Libertade" — or Liberty. 

But neither Russia nor Turkey would suffer so easy a vic- 
tory to their rebellious vassals! Only, they dared not openly 
attack what Was in very truth a nation under arms. The 
great mass of the peasant population, full of faith in their 
leaders and of hope for the future, had congregated together 
in their thousands upon the great plain beyond the city walls, 
to await the heaven-sent leader who was to bring them national 
freedom. The allies, scarcely prepared to quell armed resist- 
ance, betook themselves to diplomacy ; and the leaders of the 
movement were prayed to hold conference with the Turkish 
generals — Russia silently, but not less surely, in the back- 
ground — in the camp beyond. They went, Rosetti and the 
rest, and . . . found themselves prisoners ! His wife, with 
other ladies of the town, was busy distributing food to the 
multitude of peasants who had left their homesteads at the 
appointed summons to — 

" Strike one blow for thee, dear land ! 
To strike one blow for thee ! " — 

when, suddenly, word came that they were leaderless again ; 
Rosetti and the rest were prisoners ! In a short while all was 
confusion. The Turks rushed into the town and began to pil- 
lage, sack, and burn; and the unfortunate peasants, bewildered 
and leaderless, knew not which way to turn; while one gallant 
little body of men who essayed resistance — the city firemen — 
one hundred and fifty of them against twelve thousand Turks, 
were cut down to a man, fighting desperately to the last. 

Madame Rosetti, meanwhile, received personal assurances 
from the Turkish officials that all would be well, and that '' in 
three days the prisoners would be set free." When these three 



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1 82 A ROUMANIAN HEROINE. [May, 

anxious days had passed another message came, to the effect 
that the following morning should see the prisoners with pass- 
ports in their hands, conducted, under escort, to the Hungarian 
frontier. Long before midday next morning the impatient wife 
had left the city, and traversing the crowded plain, arrived at 
the point where the Turkish army lay encamped within their 
appointed limits. To her intense bewilderment the entire camp 
had vanished, and a solitary Turkish sentinel, pacing solemnly 
up and down before the scattered traces t>f a hasty departure, 
pointed silently and significantly with his bayonet towards the 
direction which they had taken, one exactly opposite to that 
mentioned for the release of the prisoners. 

It was a simple but effectual ruse, played at the bidding of 
Russia, to conduct, as if by misapprehension, the unfortunate 
prisoners towards some fortress where they might be — for^ 
gotten / 

Marie Rosetti, with her quick woman's intuition, understood 
it all. She went back to their empty home in the half- pillaged 
town, packed up whatever valuables were portable and could 
be conveyed to a place of safety, and then, taking her baby in 
her arms, without impedimenta other than a large cloak in 
which to wrap the child, she took one of the small open car- 
riages of the country, and accompanied by one of the patriotic 
leaders who by some chance had escaped arrest, the elder of 
the brothers Bratiano, she set out to follow the prisoners. 

It was towards the end of September; and the violent 
autumnal rains had already set in, flooding the long, low plain 
between Bucharest and the Danube. All night long they 
drove under the pitiless storm, its very violence serving as 
safeguard, for the route was deserted, and Bratiano himself left 
her soon, fearing lest his presence might endanger her safety. 

As morning dawned they drew near a small Turkish vil- 
lage beside the river, and there, to her joy, lay a vessel of war, 
in which, as they soon learned by a casual inquiry, were the 
imprisoned Roumanian leaders. With the fearlessness of utter 
self-forgetfulness, she accosted a grave individual wearing a 
Turkish fez, who was pacing up and down on the river bank, 
and learned that he was no less a personage than the physi- 
cian of the Turkish governor of a neighboring town. Telling 
her story, she begged him to intercede with her husband's 
jailers that, at least, she might share his captivity ; but her 



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1903.] A ROUMANIAN HEROINE, 183 

petition, fortunately as it afterwards proved to be, was refused. 
Only the grim old Turks, more soft-hearted than they seemed, 
offered one compensating favor. She would be permitted to 
embark for a few moments upon the prison ship, and exchange 
a word with her husband, if she cared to venture into a small 
boat manned by seven Turkish soldiers, which just then lay off 
the shore. Hazardous in many respects as it seemed, the 
young wife never hesitated, but, with her babe upon her 
breast, she stepped on board and was rowed slowly across the 
blue water to the bare and crowded deck where the entrapped 
Roumanian patriots stood or sat, huddled together, without 
bedding, cloaks, or any change of garments, shivering in in- 
sufficient clothing, just as they had walked down from the 
town to parley with their treacherous foes. 

They were the flower of Roumanian youth, and more — her 
poets, historians, politicians of the future. Balesco, Balintiniano, 
Jean Bratiano (whose name was united again later with the 
destinies of his countrymen), Boliac, Avistra, the brothers Go- 
lesco, Gradistiano, Jonesco, Ipatesco, Magoveno, Voinesco, Zane, 
and Blacesco the historian, whose promising career was pre- 
maturely cut short by disease, caused by the exposure and 
privations of this trying period. 

Again their captors assured the prisoners that they were 
but " escorted " or *' protected " as far as the Austrian frontier, 
where they would be set free; and now a curious and unex- 
plained journey began, in which, the boat pulled slowly onward 
by men on shore, the ascent of the Danube, which might have 
been made in about thirty- six hours, occupied no less than 
three weeks, a purposeful delay, apparently intended to cover 
the time of diplomatic negotiations elsewhere. 

Accompanied, at least for the first part of the journey, by 
a young Hungarian painter named Rosenthal, who was one in 
sympathy with themselves, and had placed his graceful brush 
at the service of Roumania and her liberty, Marie Rosetti fol- 
lowed, for the most part on foot, along the river banks the 
" prison ship," which held one dearer than life to her ; ready, 
quick-brained, and watchful for a chance of rescue. 

In the neighborhood of the famous Iron Gates the prisoners 
were set on shore, and confined for a time in a Turkish for- 
tress — so old and disused a one, indeed, that, as she afterwards 
laughingly remarked, " I could almost have taken it myself ! " 



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1 84 A ROUMANIAN HEROINE. [May, 

And in fact she so persistently, so touchingly haunted its 
bare, half-ruined walls, that she was at length permitted to en- 
ter, and to spend some hours with the prisoners; and the phleg- 
matic old Turks, roused otit of their ordinary apathy by the 
sight of so much courage and devotion, actually vied with one 
another in serving her, bringing food and milk, and rocking 
her babe to sleep in their arms, while its parents and their 
companions snatched a few precious moments together. 

They were looking out hopefully for deliverance from 
France — the France of their dreams and of their desires, thrill- 
ing yet under the call to arnis of the great " '48 " ; and with 
touching faith in her help, every blast of the rude September 
gales was listened to with beating hearts, which questioned 
whether it were not the sound of an army from France! But 
no help came ; and a friendly jailer, whispering in Madame 
Rosetti's ear, let fall the fatal words "Bosnia — to-morrow!" 

It meant, captivity and oblivion; the end of Turkey's hesi- 
tations, and the end of all hope. The Rosettis knew now that 
not only was escape their only chance, but a chance which 
must be swiftly snatched, and that failure once meant living 
death in a Bosnian prison. So they laid their plans. Not far 
from the Iron Gates lie the town and fortress of Orsova, an 
Austrian stronghold on Wallachian territory ; and it was arranged 
that when the little cluster of boats which were now to be 
substituted for the Turkish vessel of war, approached that town, 
all, at a given signal, should leap simultaneously on shore, and 
appeal for protection to the Wallachian populace. But Madame 
Rosetti, who had arrived at Orsova before them, discovered al- 
most at the last moment that the governor of that town was 
devoted to Russia, and far from supporting, would hand back 
any fugitives at once to Turkey; so, standing on the shore as 
the little fleet of boats came slowly past, she signed to the 
prisoners, who stood ready to leap- on shore, and holding her 
babe high above her head, she cried out, ** Do not take her 
until I give her to you'' They understood, and obeyed ; and 
the little, sleeping " Liberte " had saved them from failure. 

Those who made that weary journey never forgot the 
gracious, winning, courage-giving figure of the young wife and 
mother as she trod hour by hour and day by day the narrow, 
rugged pathway which bore them onward. Dressed in the pic- 
turesque garb of a Wallachian peasant, which she had donned 



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1903.] A ROUMANIAN Heroine. 185 

for greater convenience and safety, she shed encouragement 
and almost happiness by her very presence, as, now holding up 
her child to meet its father's gaze, now throwing a handful of 
flowers across the narrow strip of water which separated the 
prisoners from shore, or calling words of encouragement to one 
and another, she lightened the long hours of that tedious jour- 
ney. 

No further plans could be formed, no suggestions made from 
one to the other ; they could but watch and await one supreme 
chance more. And in the end it came ; for, arriving at a Wal- 
lachian village where they were to halt for the midday meal, 
their faithful avant courrier had been able to gather that the 
peasant population was favorably inclined towards the travellers. 
So. when a peremptory message followed them from a Turkish 
fortress which they had passed en route, ordering instant return 
thither, the prisoners turned upon their escort and declared 
that they would not accompany them. The officer in command 
felt himself in somewhat of a dilemma, and, not caring to risk 
a conflict with the peasantry, returned alone to the fort for 
further orders. No sooner had he left than the prisoners set 
out walking quickly away from the village on the other side, 
towards Austria, and their perplexed escort, unable to control, 
followed them. Madame Rosetti, driving by their side, had 
provided herself with some flasks of wine, and plied the soldiers 
with drink at each halt, they meanwhile salving their Moham- 
medan consciences with the reflection that they were on the 
Christian side of the river ! They arrived at the frontier town 
to find a gorgeous repast prepared for them, Madame Rosetti 
having preceded them for this purpose; more wine, coffee, 
liqueurs, pipes, were provided ad libitum^ and by and by all 
were soundly sleeping, after somewhat naively charging their 
prisoners " not to go away without waking them " ! 

Their own awakening was rude ; for when they next opened 
their eyes it was to find the mayor of the village, with some of 
its principal inhabitants, standing over them, brought by the 
indefatigable Madame Rosetti. " Where are your passports ? 
Have you any ? Then how dare you enter the dominion of H. 
I. M. the Emperor, armed f The poor Turks were dumb- 
founded, and had to give up their arms and become prisoners 
in their turn ; while the liberated Roumanians set off with all 
speed across the devastated country where Servia and Austria, 



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1 86 A ROUMANIAN HEROINE, [May. 

Slavs and Hungarians, had been but recently engaged in the 
struggle for supremacy ; by Vienna, and across Germany, to 
the beloved and long- hoped-for soil of fair France, there to 
await the dawning of a happier day. 

It would be difficult, within the limits of so small a space 
as we can here command, to give even a slight idea of the 
progress of the Roumanian nation, from those dark days of 
1848 to the present time. After the insurrection of which we 
have been writing, in which Moldavia joined, a kind of pro- 
visional government, called the Lieutenance Princiere^ was formed, 
composed of the chiefs of all the principal political parties ; and 
this body remained in power until the following September only, 
when the combined efforts of Russia and Turkey restored the 
original state of things, and the Danubian principalities, as they 
were called, lost even the faint remnants of their former inde- 
pendence. After the Crimean War a French protectorate re- 
placed the Russian one, and at length the growing desire for 
national unity led to the well-known episode of ** Colonel 
Cousa's " election as sovereign, and his speedily forced abdication ; 
after which the Roumanian statesmen proffered, by deputation, 
a formal request to Prince Charles of Hohenzollern to ascend 
the throne, with the concurrence of the other European sover- 
eigns ; and the Reminiscences of the King of Roumania have now 
told the world the story of the last thirty- five years. 

We have all heard of his devoted and accomplished consort, 
"Carmen Silva," of her literary talent, and of their domestic 
bereavement; and though in the pages of King Carol's record 
the name of Rosetti scarcely appears, we know that he lived to 
witness and rejoice over his country's independence, his coura- 
geous little wife beside him, and their children round their 
knees, while not long since a scarcely noticed paragraph in 
some of the English papers told the world that '*the death is 
announced of Count Rosetti, the Roumanian patriot. His death 
is regarded as a national loss." 




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1^'^ 

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1>. 





Klausen and Saben. 




KL/VUSEN. A LITTLE TYROLEAN PARADISE. 

BY CHARLOTTE H. COURSEN. 

j[N a defile, or Klause, of the Eisack River, Tyrol, 
about four miles south-west of the old bishops' 
town of Brixen, lies the tiny village of Klausen, 
about 1,695 feet above the sea- level. It is on 
the old Roman post- road, the Brenner, and is a 
station on the railway which follows the route indicated by this 
road. 

The valley formed by the rushing green Alpine river, the 
Eisack, is one of the most beautiful in Tyrol, and here at 
Klausen the landscape in spring and summer is singularly mel- 
low and restful. All around are wooded heights clothed with 
old castles and chapels, while in the low land picturesque farm- 
houses nestle among corn-fields, orchards, chestnut- trees, vine- 
yards, and gardens. 

The dominant feature in the scene is the Convent of Saben, 
which gloriously crowns a rugged height. The oldest towers 
reveal their Roman origin ; above them the bright red roof cuts 
into the clear blue sky. When the Romans, under Drusus, 
conquered the Rhaetians of the Eisack valley — the Isarci — they 



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1 88 Klausen, a little Tyrolean Paradise, [May, 

found, it is said, a Rhaetian fort on this site. They erected 
here a fort of their own, which they called Sabiona, also a 
temple of Isis,* and they settled in the surrounding country. 
The people still preserve the Romanic type, which springs from 
a mixture of Latins with other races. Later, Saben became a 
bishopric, the earliest in Tyrol. In 992 this bishopric was 
removed to Brixen, where it attained much importance and tem- 
poral power.t After this Saben became the seat of a noble 
family to which belonged the Minnesinger Leuthold, who 
flourished in the fourteenth century. According to a charming 
legend, the spirit of Leuthold repeats at Saben his spring song 




The Brugger House. 

every year. Emilie von Escherichf has elaborated this fancy 
in a poem which might be freely rendered as follows: 

• Vincenz von Pallhausen, in his Beschreibung der Romerstrasse von Verona nock Augsburg 
mentions an image of Isis three feet high, now in the collection of antique sculpture at Munich. 
It is made of white marble like that found in the upper part of the Eisack valley. He thinks it 
very possible that this may be the image from Saben, and that it may have been sent to 
Munich as a gift from the Bishop of Brixen. 

t See "The Ancient Tyrolean Bishopric, Brixen," in The Catholic World Maga- 
zine, September, 1902. 

I See Das Eisackthal in Lied und Sage, by Conrad Fischnaler, 



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1903.] Klausen, a little Tyrolean Paradise, 189 




The Field-Altar of Charles II. 

Herr Leuthold of Saben his spring song is singing 
Far up on the hill- side, as low drops the sun ; 

He sings of the grass and the freshness of flowers, 
And all the glad life that is newly begun. 

He sings of the birds, and the birds come to listen ; 

They join to his harp notes their carollings gay; 
All sing in the shimmering sunlight together. 

And pour a sweet strain to the blossoming May. 

He sings of the love of his heart and her beauty, 
The troth that has held them, the love that abides; 

The silver tones die in the glorj' of sunset 

That pours on the mountains a golden bright tide. 



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I go KLAUS EN, A LITTLE TYROLEAN PARADISE. [May, 

Then peace in the valley, and peace on the mountain, 
And musical peace in the singer's brave breast; 

The sounds haunt the heart with the echoes* of dreamland. 
And under the starlight they whisper of rest. 

Herr Leuthold of Saben, how long has thy music 
Sent down to the valley thy song of delight ? 

How many fair springtides, with melody flooded. 
Have ended in beauty and sunk into night ? 

So long as we joy in this jubilant waking, 

The warmth after winter, the growth after rain, 

So long shall we call to thee, " Leuthold von Saben, 
Come, sing us the song of the springtime again ! " 

It is a remarkable fact, and one that may well be attributed 
to some racial inheritance, that from this immediate neighbor- 
hood came three of the most famous German Minnesingers: 
Walther von der Vogelweide, Leuthold von Saben, and Oswald 
von Wolkenstein.* 

The last change at Saben took place in 1685, when it be- 
came a convent for nuns of the Benedictine order. 

The village of Klausen consists of one long, narrow street 
with a few side alleys. No one knows how old it is, but it is 
very ancient, and its history was doubtless connected from the 
start with that of Saben. The variously tinted houses are 
decorated on the outside with frescoes of the saints, and sur- 
rounded with a wealth of fruit trees and flowers. The town 
pump is presided over by a painted wooden figure of Florian, 
the saint who extinguishes fires. For a place of its size, 
Klausen shows a remarkable variety of old Rhaeto- German 
architectural forms, and on this account it is a favorite haunt of 
artists and of architectural students. There are picturesque bal- 
conies, windows, courtyards, stairways, and Gothic doors. In 
some of the houses no two rooms are on the same level. The 
wood-carving in the Brugger House is of that ancient Tyrolean 
type which has been adopted in the new Tourist Bureau at 
Innsbruck. In the cemetery are quaint chapels adorned with 
objects carved by peasants. 

• For Walther and Leuthold see Julius Wolff's Tannhauser. For Oswald see Fridtl und 
Oswald, by Herman Schmid. 



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1903.] Klaus EN, a little Tyrolean Paradise. 191 




Articles made of Crystal; Loreto Treasure. 



There are several interesting churches: that of the Apostles, 
that of St. Andrew, the round church of St. Stephen ; but 
chief among them is that of the Capuchins, with its convent, 
founded in 1699 by Charles II. of Spain to please Gabriel 
Pontifeser, confessor of his queen, Anne Maria. The outside 
is simple and bare; within are paintings of the Spanish school 
which have been wrongly attributed to Murillo. The Loreto 
Chapel, behind the convent, was built on the ^ite of the con- 
fessor's old home, and it is a storehouse of rare paintings and 
other treasures sent here by Queen Anne Maria when the 
French were about to enter Madrid in 1706, during the War of 
the Spanish Succession. Here are pictures by Leonardo da 

VOU LXXVII. — 13 

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192 Klausen, a little Tyrolean Paradise. [May, 

Vinci,- Titian, Correggio, Rubens, a Madonna on glass by Carlo 
Dolce; and here are marvellous precious stones, church vessels 
in gold, silver, and crystal ; a field altar by Benvenuto Cellini ; 
vestments for the Mass of silk, lace, and gold embroidery. 
Tyrol possesses no other ecclesiastical treasure equal to this. 

In the neighborhood of the convent is a house which Anne 
Maria had built for her own occupation. In the large, well- 
lighted rooms may still be seen the rich stucco work and the 
magnificent but faded tapestry of her day. 

There are many inns, or "guest-houses," in Klausen, but 
the one that seems to epitomize, as it were, the social life of 
the place is the ancient Gaslhaus zutn Lamm (Lamb), kept by 
a deservedly popular host named Kantioler. The house has a 
plain gray fa9ade. The windows have "bottle-glass" panes, 
and one of them is of the projecting type called Erker, so 
often seen in Tyrol. We enter and mount by a small stairway 
to the large upper room, once a council hall, but now known 
as the Walther Saal, and devoted to the memory of Walther 
von der Vogelweide. It is divided in the middle by an arch- 
way resting upon pillars. The walls are frescoed by modern 
artists in a charming impromptu and haphazard style. Most 
prominent is a life- sized picture of Walther. Under the arch- 
way a woman in Old- German costume welcomes the guests with 
a beaker of wine in her hand, while opposite to her a knight 
in armor seconds her hospitality. Here is the view of an 
ancient town, while everywhere are arabesques, lettered scrolls, 
and clambering vines. At the back of the room a large cruci- 
fix is fastened to the frescoed wall, and in front of this hangs 
a great antique candelabrum. From a corner close at hand a 
stairway leads to a little stone gallery by which one passes to 
the guest chambers, or else out to a garden which extends 
over the rocks at a level' above the house — a garden of spicy 
trees, of roses, and mignonette. The Walther Saal is patron- 
ized by people of all nations, but to the Tyroleans and their 
German- speaking brethren it has a special significance. Some- 
times from the grand piano in one of the corners floats the 
enticing music of a Strauss waltz, and Walther, looking down 
upon the dancers, seems to say: "Tyrolean comrades, still you 
love your dancing, singing, and flowers, as in 'Those happy 
days now lost in Time's great sea !' " 

This room is a sacred haunt for authors, musicians, and 



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I903 J KLAUSEN, a little TYROLEAN PARADISE. 



193 



' i 


^^^^B 


1 

1 "••'•■ A 




1X2 


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The Inn of "The Lamb." 

artists, some of whom have studios at Klausen. Here the 
initiated knights of art and literature assemble at their Round 
Table, and the visitors' book will best show who they are and 
what they csLn do. 

Like every other place, Klausen is best seen by the loiterers, 
and by those who are in touch with the spirit of the people. 
The neighborhood, with its superb outlooks, invites one to 
tarry. From Villanders one sees twenty castles and as many 
villages or more. From Cassian's Peak one has a view extend- 
ing from the Ortler, on the Swiss, Italian, and Tyrolean 
frontiers, to the Gross Glockner,*in Carinthia. 

About six miles north-west of Latzfous the pilgrimage 
church of the Holy Cross rises from near the summit of the 
Alp Ritzlor, above the line of vegetation, and visible from all the 
surrounding country. What a sublime thought — of the Everlast- 
mg light thus lifted so far above the changes and chances of this 
earth, to beckon upward, as it seems, to ''star-like mingle with 
the stars " ! 



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194 Is It Ignorance or Bigotry, or Both? [May, 



IS IT IGNORANCE OR BIGOTRY, OR BOTH? 

BY MARY ELIZABETH BLAKE. 

[he last twenty- five years in America have marked 
a large advance in the enlightenment of the public 
mind along many lines of thought and under- 
standing. Sources of information, at least in the 
preliminaries of knowledge, have been thrown 
open ; and mistaken opinion has no longer the excuse of igno- 
rance in the prejudice it represents. Many powerful causes, 
discussion, the Press, a habit of specializing study and giving 
its results to the world, and the humanizing influence which is 
the one bright spot in the modern idea of altruism, force 
toward clearness of vision and kindliness of judgment. If we 
cannot go to the length of thoughtless optimism in which some 
philanthropists involve all dogmas and beliefs, sacred or pro- 
fane ; holding, like the philosopher in *' The Mikado," that 

" You are right, and I am right, 
And all is right as right can be " — 

we are at least tending more in that direction than during the 
old epoch of fallacy and misconception. And although the 
higher grace of Christian love is often lacking in our methods 
of helpfulness, there has certainly come a wide understanding 
of the beauty of charity, and its personal application to the af- 
fairs of life. 

In the face of this upward trend it becomes, therefore, all 
the more significant when one set of ethical questions, not dif- 
ficult to explain or to answer, are still as little understood as 
ever. In many respects the f rotestant point of view regard- 
ing the Catholic is as crassly wrong as in the days of Martin 
Luther. Research may have stripped historical actor and scene 
of errors in stage costuming and disfiguring properties; wider 
reading and better understanding removed misapprehension ; yet 
too often the old shibboleths usurp the place of honest criticism, 
and the bias of censure holds its own. The protests and sus- 
picions of darker ages, a hundred times proven false, defame 
the body of Christians at whom they were first levelled too 



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1903.] Is It Ignorance or Bigotry, or Both? 195 

frequently to be the result of chance or accident. It reminds 
one of the Jews of Jerusalem striving to retain their prestige by 
accusing the little group of believers. 

At best, and with the kindest interpretation, this can only 
be the result of an indifference so culpable as to be vicious. 
How else could a minister of the Gospel, in good- standing, dare 
express himself as did one in the City of Boston a few years 
since ? I quote from the published report of a convention of 
Universalist clergymen, who at the time were debating the 
vexed problem of parochial and public schools. " The Catholic 

Church is sly," said a minister present. '* Yes," said Dr. , 

"as sly as the serpent and much more venomous. There are 
things going on in Boston to-day in that church which, if 
known by the public and understood, would make them horror- 
stricken. What is the meaning of cells under our own cathedral 
here in Boston ? Not many of the Catholics themselves know." 
Which last statement had certainly its inadvertent modicum of 
truth 

How, again, could it transpire that, without a guilty disre- 
gard for available sources of information, such an incident as 
the following should pass unchallenged in a gathering of re- 
spectable and important persons. • A meeting had been called — 
again in Boston — for the purpose of providing means for the 
establishment of an American college in Madrid, devoted to the 
higher education of women. Now, higher education is an 
admirable object wherever it may be instituted ; although one 
may well wonder why Americans should go so far afield to 
promote it while women among the poor whites of the Southern 
States are left in woeful and almost absolute ignorance; and 
while hundreds of cities in different portions of the Union are 
yet unprovided with the best methods in pedagogy. But this 
eccentricity may be condoned, if those who undertake the 
business of providing opportunity can prove themselves to be 
guided only by the desire to enfranchise their sisters anywhere 
from lower to loftier and broader realms of knowledge. Pure 
motives of helpfulness we have a right to demand, if there is 
to be any degree of honor or success. There must be no 
ulterior ends ; there must be clean hands and unprejudiced 
judgment; there must be, above all, a sympathetic understanding 
of the conditions among which the work is to be carried on, 
and the natures upon which they are to experiment. When, 



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196 IS IT iGNORAr^CE OR BIGOTRY, OR BOTH f [iMay, 

then, one of the best known and most eloquent speakers gives 
the motive for this appeal and the basis upon which the pro- 
posed undertaking is to rest; it is worthy of notice. I quote 
again from the morning report of the proceedings : *• We are 
going," said the reverend speaker, after many others had advanced 
their reasons for encouraging the undertaking, — '* we are going 
to build this school, not because we believe a Spanish g^rl is 
any more ripe for education than any other girl, but because 
we want to erect a monument there which a hundred years 
hence shall be regarded as marking the exchange from a reign 
of the devil to the reign of Jesus Christ. Such a monument 
must be erected ; and the place to erect it is not at Washington 
but in Madrid, the capital of the Spanish nation." 

In the face of this amazing, and to most thoughtful minds 
monstrous statement, it is but natural to look at the nation and 
people so characterized, and to find what reason Spain and the 
Spaniards have given to deserve it. In regard to her intel- 
lectual and educational status, the answer to the question is not 
hard to find. A long list of authors, Spanish, German, French, 
and English, are ready to be consulted, and this article pre- 
sents a very slight resume of the result. 

Without going back to' the so-called "Dark Ages" — when 
strife and bloodshed hid more light than were usually supposed 
to exist in thepi — there are abundant evidences that Spain was 
in possession of her proportionate share of learning even before 
the thirteenth century. Moor and Christian, during the seven 
hundred years of the usurpation, conducted schools for technical 
as well as intellectual training; while song and story were a 
common inheritance from an early date. **The origin of 
Castilian poetry," says Bouterwek, *' is lost in the obscurity of 
the middle ages." The poem of the Cid, the earliest authentic 
remnant of their troubadours, belongs somewhere in the later 
years of the twelfth century. Closely following or preceding it, 
in 1 200, was the installation of the University of Salamanca, 
for centuries one of the most notable centres of advanced edu- 
cation in Europe. Its liberal advantages were shared by an 
immense body of students — at one time, according to authorities, 
numbering ten thousand. It contained twenty-eight colleges of 
greater or less degree, and drew its scholars and professors from 
centres of the highest culture and repute in the civilized world. 

Fifty-three years later the advent of Alonso el Sabio marked 



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1903.] Is IT IGNORANCE OR BIGOTRY, OR BOTH? 1 97 

a new impulse along many lines of learning. Himself a student 
and a dreamer, pathetically out of place in the troublous times 
which encompassed him, he gathered at his court not only 
poets and romancers, but historians, chroniclers, and astronomers. 
The renaissance of letters which was just beginning in Europe 
made itself felt beyond the Pyrenees. His father, St Ferdinand, 
a brave and noble character, had succeeded in turning the at- 
tention of a few scholars toward the vulgar tongue of Spain as 
a vehicle of expression, for which Latin had been heretofore 
the sole medium. The son enlarged and inspired the work ; 
beginning to do for his country what Dante Alighieri was to 
accomplish so grandly for Italy a little later. Sometimes as 
author, sometimes as collector, Alonso gathered in the Galilean 
dialect not only the strange mass of tradition and romance in- 
cluded in his Cantigas, and the legal codes of the Siete Parti- 
das, but the commencement of an authorized record of Spanish 
history which lasted with but few interruptions up to modern 
times. He also caused a translation of the Bible to be pre- 
pared, in the common speech of the people, with an appended 
paraphrase of Scripture. By offers of substantial reward and 
honorable positions, he induced kindred spirits to surround him ; 
and with their aid produced works which would have been con- 
sidered important at any time, but which in that pale dawn of 
intellectual activity were marvellous. The fragments of law, 
which St. Ferdinand had attempted to transcribe for the practi- 
cal guidance of affairs, he amplified into a code of which 
portions remain in use to-day. He left also the beginnings of 
astronomical calculations which made a basis for later research ; 
and most of these were daring innovations because prepared in the 
vernacular. It was in this mood that Spain accepted the 
scholastic revival which was beginning to arouse Europe. 

Although not much literary activity was recorded during 
the next two hundred years, Spain held its own among nations, 
with the possible exception of Italy. In 1346 the University 
of Valladolid, and in 14 10 that of Valencia, were founded. The 
Book of Sage^, with other books of love and of chivalry, ap- 
peared ; and Atnadis de Gaul, which is still a classic. Knights 
as well as monks did service in letters from time to time. But 
it was only with the advent of Queen Isabella the Catholic that 
the clouded heaven cleared, although there had begun to be 
signs of promise during the reign of her father, John II. of 



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198 /S IT IGNORANCE OR BIGOTRY, OR BOTH? [May, 

Castile. The school of Igiienza in 147 1, and of Avila in 1482, 
both probably attest the interest in intellectual matters which 
his love of literary pursuits, and the influence of the brilliant 
men who made up his court, aroused in the kingdom. 

As woman, even more than as queen, this wonderful Isa- 
bella was the strongest force for good that probably ever in- 
fluenced the destinies of a nation. Her pure and simple life, 
her greatness of heart, her nobility of motive, her accuracy of 
judgment, and the unerring precision of her methods and plans, 
were heralds of sanity and advance for her people. There are 
few brighter pages in history than those that tell of her family 
life. Sitting among her ladies in the palace garden, superintend- 
ing their studies and pastimes ; reciting Latin with the pretty 
flock of royal children ; offering little prizes for the best de- 
signs in tapestry, or a new stitch * in embroidery ; smiling, 
serene, joyous, in the midst of harassing disorders within, and 
warlike clamor without, — it is a picture of beauty even to the 
casual looker on. It gives a vivid touch of reality to read that 
once it was her little daughter Catherine, afterwards that sad 
Queen Catherine of brutal Henry VIII., who received the re- 
ward for exquisite sewing. 

** After the example of Charlemagne," says one historian, 
** the queen instituted a * Schola Palatina * — that is, a school to 
accompany the court wherever it went." Little by little the 
young nobles, who before had only dreamed of prowess in war 
or the devices of chivalry, began to be drawn toward the de- 
lights of mental exercise ; and at last, according to Erasmus, 
'* no Spaniard was considered noble who showed an indifference 
to learning." Heffele, in his Life of Cardinal Ximenes, says: 
" Many belonging to the first houses of the Spanish nobility, 
once so haughty and proud, now made no hesitation in occu- 
pying chairs in the universities. Gutierre de Toledo, son of the 
Duke of Alva and cousin of the king, lectured in the Univer- 
sity of Salamanca ; as also did Don Pedro Fernandez de Velasco, 
son of the Count of Hara. Noble dames likewise vied with 
illustrious grandees for the prize of literary pre-eminence; while 
many of them even held chairs in the universities, and gave public 
lectures in eloquence and the classics.* 

* Some of these names have been preserved. Among them are the Marchioness of Mon- 
teaguda. who was the queen's instructor in Latin ; DoAa Francisca de Lebrija, and Dofia de 
Medano. who both held positions in universities as lecturers. 



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1903] /^ It Ignorance or Bigotry, or Both? 199 

With an enlightenment beyond that of her sex and times^ 
Queen Isabella broke up the savage wildness of the interior of 
her kingdom by a vast system of highways, opening great 
avenues for freer intercourse through the country, and making 
quicker communication possible between distant posts. She 
patrolled these routes by an army of high-born volunteers, who 
enrolled themselves as special guardians of travel and traffic, 
assuring safe transit. Immediately the scourge of brigandage 
disappeared; and for the first time in the history of Spain 
travellers journeyed for pleasure and in safety. In an age which 
recognized the principle of protection to its highest power^ 
province raising its barriers against province, and town against 
town, she enacted a law admitting printed books free of duty, 
and even defrayed the costs of transportation. By large boun- 
ties she induced foreign printers to take up their abode in her 
realm ; and appointed a committee of supervision to guard 
against unworthy treatment of important subjects in the books 
issued. Civil advantages, and freedom from taxation, as well 
as substantial rewards in titles and moneys, were some of the 
inducements offered for superior excellence in workmanship ; 
and the nation responded eagerly to her lead in accepting 
this new means of education. It became the fashion for 
the nobility and aristocracy to patronize the establishment of 
printing-presses, and even to defray the cost of producing cer- 
tain editions at their own expense. The different institutions, 
under the guidance of the teaching orders, also set up publish- 
ing bureaus ; and soon most of the great cities and larger towns 
of Spain were represented in the new movement. Before the 
year 1500, three hundred and sixty- seven books had been issued 
in the different provinces, many of them in repeated editions. 
A thousand high-priced copies of Lebrija's Essays on Language 
and Criticism were sold in the first year, and a second supply 
demanded. A full list of the titles which were printed at this 
time is given in some of the old Spanish records, with the 
division of the output among the different houses. As early as 
1478 the Bible was published in the Valencian idiom; and the 
haste with which this event pressed on the heels of opportunity 
silences the old falsehood of keeping the Scriptures from the 
people. But the pre-eminent literary achievement of the age, 
and its lasting pride, was the production of the Polyglot Bible 
at Alcala. To call together scholars of the required ability, and 



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200 Is IT Ignorance or Bigotry, or Both? [May, 

to hold them for fifteen years through times of such political 
unrest and confusion, was a phenomenal triumph even for the 
great man who accomplished it. The moulding of type alone 
in the Hebrew, Greek, and Chaldean characters was a work of 
infinite difficulty. 

Another act of this wise sovereign should personally endear 
her to us, who boast of the wise and farseeing policy of 
our forefathers in the same direction. Harassed by unknown 
foes, and yet uncertain of what the future held for them, the 
early settlers of America laid aside a portion of their scant 
treasure for the establishment of better means of education. 
Isabella came to the throne during such a period of political 
unrest, and after a reign of such senseless extravagance on the 
part of her unworthy brother, Henry, that there was not even 
money for the most necessary expenses. Yet we find her mak- 
ing use of the first funds raised in the united kingdoms of Cas- 
tile and Aragon for the promotion of a revival of learning. 
New schools were endowed, and old ones re established. In a 
very short period for such undertakings there were founded the 
institutions of Toledo, Seville, Ognati, Valencia, Santiago, and 
Avila. Some of these afterwards reached the dignity of uni- 
versities. Compared with this heroic work for the advancement 
of her people, how poor are the two incidents with which her 
fame is almost wholly associated in the public mind ! The 
patronage of Columbus and the Expulsion of the Moors were 
both in a measure accidental. Pledging of crown jewels was a 
not unusual means of raising funds for the promotion of enter- 
prise in those days ; and events had long been turning toward 
the final defeat and overthrow of the Saracenic rulers. But the 
wise and noble thought for education was pre-eminently her 
own ; unaided by circumstances, and in the face of grievous 
difficulty. 

It was in the year 1500 that the great Ximenes, a prime 
minister worthy the sovereign he served, began the project of 
founding the University of Alcala, which merits a word by it- 
self. Already, for two hundred years, a school had existed in 
Alcala de Henares, a location justly celebrated for its healthful 
air and beautiful surroundings. On account of these advantages 
the cardinal chose it for the site of his new institution. The 
faculty consisted of thirty- three professors, with twelve priests, 
among whom the pastoral and administrative duties were divided. 



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1903.] Is It Ignorance or Bigotry, or Both? 201 

At the formal inauguration, in 1508, there were forty- two 
chairs, divided as follows : six of theology ; four, medicine ; 
six. canon law; one, anatomy; one, surgery; eight, philosophy ; 
one, moral philosophy ; one, mathematics ; four, Latin and 
Greek ; four, rhetoric ; and six, grammar. Among the number 
of professors were many celebrated men, like Lebrija in phi- 
lology, and the converted Jew, Paulo Coronel, in Hebrew. 
Connected with the houses were two in which poor scholars 
were taught, fed, and clothed free. Beside the head college of 
San Ildefonso were six or eight others, devoted more or less 
to specialties, with a building for students who fell ill during 
term, and numerous schools conducted by the teaching orders, 
so that their theological students might follow courses in the 
central university. With such advantages one is not surprised 
at Prescott's statement that 7,000 undergraduates went out from 
Alcala to meet Francis I. on the occasion of his visit some 
twenty years after. 

One drastic and salutary law, that might well find a place 
in the unwritten code regulating similar modern institutions, was 
inaugurated by the far-sighted cardinal for the benefit of his 
pet university. No professor, however capable or famous, could 
hold his chair longer than four years without passing an 
examination to show that his mind was alert, and that he was 
keeping pace with the requirements instead of falling into the 
dulness of routine. Attendance at lectures was also noted — 
not to determine the student's attainments, but those of the 
instructor. A man who could not make his subject sufficiently 
attractive to insure attention and respect was considered unworthy 
his position. 

Alcala flourished with varying fortunes into the nineteenth 
century, when a revocation of its charter for a time closed the 
doors of the school. But evidently a broader policy prevailed 
later, since the encyclopedias of 1876 record its amalgamation 
with the University of Madrid, and the removal to that city 
of its faculties and valuable library. In the glory of its renown, 
Isabella as well as Ximenes must share. It was to her enthu- 
siasm and moral support that its inception and prosperity were 
largely owing. 

Like a swift harvest of the seed planted by the great 
queen, there was given to the world within the next hundred 
years the splendid trilogy of Spanish Immortals — Cervantes, 



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202 Is It Ignorance or Bigotry, or Both? [May, 

Lope de Vega, and Calderon, whose fame and . work enrich the 
world. There were also a host of lesser writers and scholars 
who might have made more claim to attention if the 
political atmosphere of the times had been less murky, or 
the sovereigns under whom they lived less blind.* But the 
incubus of a long sequence of misgovernment, from the shallow 
magnificence of Charles I. to the final impotence of Charles 
II., crushed life and ambition in the unfortunate people they 
so grievously used. Still the monastic establishments sustained 
their brave struggle with evil conditions ; each one the nucleus 
of a little circle of light and education, keeping alive traditions 
of past and hope of future glory. The University of Baeza 
was founded in 1548, and that of Osuna in 1548; the great 
school of Granada in 1531, and Oviedo in 1580. And it is 
impossible to read the older and more authentic annals of the 
Spanish and French chroniclers, without being struck by the 
numerous exceptions to what at first sight seems an unbroken 
sombreness of inaction and laxity. 

The eighteenth century begins in much the same temper. 
With the reign of Charles III. came another period of at least 
intermittent progress in education. Among other measures for 
internal improvement he endowed new schools, and showed a 
real consideration for the culture of art and science. We read 
of one famous girl graduate. Dona Maria de Guzman y la Cerda, 
who at • seventeen years of age came before the faculty of 
Alcala and passed superbly the examinations in languages, arts, 
and philosophy. She received from the hands of the king her 
degrees as *' Doctoress *' in these branches, and in the Litterae 
Humaniores, holding appointments in each in the university. f 
Moratin, one of the favorite Spanish dramatists, many of whose 
plays, like ** El Si de las Minas,** yet hold their place on the 
stage, flourished toward the closing years of 1 700 ; but in a 
general way the signs of intellectual activity are but as threads 
of pure gold and sterling silver in a woof of dull hues and 
sombre texture. 

* It is interesting here to note that a new edition of La Perfecta Casada, from the pen of 
one of those almost forgotten authors, Fray Luis de Leon, who wrote about 1580, has just been 
reissued from the press of the University of Chicago. It consists of a series of essays on the 
dudes of a married woman, with a clever and graphic description of manners and customs in 
Spain during the fourteenth century. 

f An interesting article in LUtelVs Living Age for October, 1900, gives the main details of 
her life, with her early death at thirty-three. 



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I903-] ^'S IT IGNORANCE OR BIGOTRY, OR BOTH? 203 

With the nineteenth century the prestige of Spain, so far as 
great names is concerned, is again brought before the world. 
Beginning with the so-called "School of Salamanca," which 
endeavored to prune the many extravagances of style and 
substance that a foolish admiration for the eccentricities of 
French writers had produced, in the two or three generations 
preceding, it developed a really admirable merit in the authors 
who came after. A score of important names in different 
branches of literature and study might be cited between 1815 
and 1850, while the modern school of authors and students 
bristles with celebrities. In the prevalent craze of the world for 
French models, they have been unfairly discriminated against; 
but their power is fast forcing recognition. Cecilia Bohl de 
Faber, better known by her nom de plume of Fernan Caballero, 
has notably presented the claims of her people td the attention 
of critics in her admirable Novelas de Costumbres, Exquisite 
in power and finish, inspired by an ardent patriotism and 
sympathy, they unite the strength and pathos of George Sand 
to a high morality, and a fine realism that happily does not 
exclude virtue. Her private life was one of exquisite purity 
and usefulness. Other names well known and loved in their 
native land, though little recognized in ours, are the poets 
Gertrudis de Avellanda and Carolina Coronado. Better known 
and understood are Castelar, who as orator and writer has 
secured his place in history ; Sagasta and Canovas in govern- 
ment; and the galaxy of essayists and romancers, Saavedra, 
Valera, Galdos, Alar^on, Pereda, the Jesuit Father Colomba, 
Valdes, and Echegaray, who make part of an endless list of 
striking versatility. 

In the front rank with them, — indeed, in the front rank with 
the literary minds of the century, — is Emelia Pardo de Bazan. 
This very remarkable personality, whose novels show not only 
broad grasp of general principles, but fine analysis of subtle 
detail and psychical problems ; who dares the vital questions of 
the day, as in her impassioned appeal for the abolition of 
Capital Punishment,* and who was the official representative of 
the press of Spain at the last Paris Exposition, is one of the 
most remarkable intellects in modern Europe. She has tra- 
velled extensively, and studied deeply ; and she was the first 
of her sex ever chosen to address the Ateneo of Madrid — a 

• La Piedra Angular, 



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204 Is IT IGNORANCE OR BIGOTRY, OR BOTH? [May, 



literary society which includes the first men of letters and 
science in the country. And she is still in the vigor of her 
fame. 

With her might well be placed that other admirable and 
gracious figure, Queen Christina ; who, although not native 
born, is Spanish to the core in soul and spirit. Her firm and 
judicious control of the disjecta membra of Spanish politics, her 
wise foresight and loving care for the interests of the young 
king, and her large-hearted love for the nation of her adop- 
tion have made her remarkable. In the pitiless glare of **the 
white light that beats upon a throne" she has disarmed preju- 
dice by a rare tact, and won friends by an equally rare judg- 
ment. 

It is of interest in this connection to note the name and 
standing of Spanish universities that were still open in 1876, 
with the date of foundation and the attendance of each. For 
convenience they are appended in tabular form: 

Name. 

Salamanca, 

Valladolid, 

Valencia, 

Zaragoza, . 

Sevilla, 

Santiago, . 

Oviedo, 

Granada, . 

Madrid,* 

Barcelona, 



FffUHdatioH. 


Atttndamt 


. 1200, 


. 266. 


1346, 


940. 


. I4IO, 


. 942. 


1474, 


826. 


. 1502, 


. 2,252. 


1504, 


649. 


. 1580, 


. . 163. 


I53I. • 


706. 


. 1836. 


. 5,475- 


1450, 


2,440. 




Nor is the Spain of to-day so fallen from its high estate as 
to be wholly without honor. Great prejudice, an apparently 
invincible ignorance, and a colossal hardihood have done their 
worst to place the lowest possible estimate on everything 
Spanish at home and abroad. Bishop Potter, after four days in 
the Phtlippines, dares to speak to an intelligent audience and 
give his misinterpretations of a troubled situation with the 
authority of dogma. Self-interest and lamentable ignorance 
have distorted motives and perverted facts until the truth is no 
longer recognizable. Yet within a few years, in the Castilian 
Club of Boston, a Protestant clergyman, who had made the 
subject his study, gave statistics to show that in the march of 

• To this was added the University of Alcald after its suppression. 



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1903.] Is It Ignorance or Bigotry, or Both? 205 

modern improvement among nations, within the previous fifty 
years Spain had been no laggard ; but that in comparison with 
the earlier inertia from which she had broken, was honorably 
keeping pace with her sisters. A writer in the magazine Edu- 
cation, for October, 1900, states that "Schools afforded by the 
state since 1868 are free; and the sexes to some extent are 
coeducated." She goes on to say: "A law of 1887 provides 
an elementary school for girls in every village of 500 inhabi- 
tants or over; while the Association for the Education of 
Women, organized as long ago as 1870 by Don Fernando de 
Castro, rector of the University of Alcala- Madrid, provides for 
higher advantages in the normal school, whose lectures are well 
attended." Between 1870 and 1880, she finds 117 names of 
women recorded as attending lectures at the different universi- 
ties with the men, after having first passed the necessary 
examinations. Many, if not most of these, she supposes to have 
been graduated from ttfe private schools, which are largely sup- 
ported by voluntary contribution, and often under control of 
foreign societies. 

A National Pedagogic Conference which was held in Mad- 
rid in 1882 under the patronage of Alfonso XII., and a second 
which took place in 1892, look very much as if Spain were 
well aroused to the exigencies of the present times. The 
London Annual Registers of the last ten or twelve years, 
although they do not devote as many paragraphs to Spain as 
there are chapters for the English-speaking countries, bear wit- 
ness to many items of readjustment to the best modern condi- 
tions and a thoughtful vision for pitfalls in the way of progress. 
They show a land that in spite of fierce uph&val of traditions, 
and throes of civil and foreign wars, has evinced a remarkable 
alertness in the discussion of all matters pertaining to advance. 
The volume of 1901 records her as aroused anew to the im- 
portance of the educational question, and devoting time and 
means for its elucidation. As far back as 1890 they demon- 
strate public interest in the problems of labor and capital; and 
a continual discussion on the subject, which culminated later in 
the passage of laws. These were, first, the fixing of a work- 
ing day of eight hours ; second, the creation in every muni- 
cipality of a commission for the protection of workingmen ; 
third, provision for the free transport by rail from one city to 
another of those in search of employment; and fourth, the 



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2o6 IS IT IGNORANCE OR BIGOTRY, OR BOTH f [May, 

daily publication in La Gaceta of Madrid of the rates of wages 
in every province of Spain — presumably to insure an equality 
of compensation. 

Indeed, since Gil de Zarate published his three large vol- 
umes on educational questions in Spain, in 1855, having been 
then for six years minister or director of public instruction, 
there has been no lack of interest or literature concerning the 
subject. Among others, a paper in the Revista Europea of 
August, 1879, by Alcanzara Garcia, gives an account of the 
introduction of the Froebel Kindergarten system into the Span- 
ish schools; while another professor, writing a few years later, 
records that teaching by plays, games, and songs had been 
known and used in the primary departments some twenty years 
earlier. A brochure on Higher Education in Spain, in 1899, 
bristles with pertinent and progressive suggestions by a practi- 
cal teacher who shows an intimate knowledge of modern re- 
quirements and the means of adopting them. A really admir- 
able and. important addition to study of the same subject is 
La Ensanama en el Siglo XX., published in 1900, by Senor 
Ricardo Becerro de Bengoa, member of the Academy and pro- 
fessor of the Ateneo of Madrid. The author gives an emi- 
nently fair and generous estimate of the progress made in other 
nations; but still has the hardihood to doubt that foreign 
methods, imported without adaptation, will ever supply Spanish 
needs. He shows that for thirty years past both the govern- 
ment and the teaching bodies " have made generous and per- 
sistent effort to study systems and desolve difficulties." "But 
it hurts us," he says, "to change our position; we still hold 
from our Arab blood the ruinous virtue of contentment; even 
when it means contentment with poverty, mediocrity, and in- 
ertia." In a review of German, English, American, and French 
universities, he makes careful comparison, and tempers praise 
with some extremely well-founded objections. He criticises 
particularly the pretensions of Prussia, which by constantly 
claiming precedence, has grown to be regarded as the most 
educated among the kingdoms; while yet the percentage of 
illiteracy is from twenty to thirty among its people and where 
the " narrow, rigid, and formal rules better fit the inmates of a 
barrack than the citizens of a great country." He finds the 
German teaching profession very poorly paid, and held in slight 
respect. 



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1903.] Is It Ignorance or Bigotry, or Both? 207 

This interesting volume contains a gratifying list of schools, 
academies, and colleges scattered all over Spain, that have 
shown themselves responsive to the best ideas of modern peda- 
gogy. Special mention is made, among many others, of the 
seminary yet flourishing at Alcald de Henares, on part of the 
site of the ancient university; the beautiful college of the 
Jesuit fathers at Chambertin de la Rosa; the model institution 
founded in Madrid in 1873 by the Association for the Educa- 
tion of Women ; ♦ and the Normal School of Teachers, also for 
women, in the same city. 

At the close it pays a sympathetic tribute to the spirit and 
energy of the large body of teachers who are working so earn- 
estly throughout the country for the improvement of educa- 
tion ; and quotes in their regard the testimony of M. Maurice 
Faure, minister of public instruction in France, as to the posi- 
tion of instructors in his own land : " Never have our pro- 
fessors studied the subject of pedagogy more intimately; and 
never have they manifested in the service of the government 
such good will, such intelligence, and such devotion to the pub- 
lic good, as they do to-day." 

And this is the country and the people to be delivered 
over " from the reign of the devil to the reign of Jesus Christ " 
by the medium of an American college for women in Madrid, 
in the beginning of the Twentieth Century! If the fool shall 
be answered according to his folly, there is little doubt of the 
reply of Spain. 

* In 1900 the alumnae of this school numbered already 7,000. 




VOL. LXXVII.— 14 



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2o8 



Mary. 



[May, 



MARY. 



BY JAMES REEGAN. 



|ITHIN the Temple sacred to her race 
Mary the sinless, childlike maiden knelt, 
While Angels heard within that holy place 
The perfect prayer sent forth by her to God ; 

" Take Thou my soul, my flesh, that they with Thee 

May form a perfect trinity." . 




God heard the maiden's prayer, and took her hand 
And led her to the highest heights of love — 
Of sacrifice — for such is love's demand. 
Where Mary's heart in death-like anguish prayed : 
" Both heart and soul are Thine, e'en at this price 
Take them, my Son, in perfect sacrifice." 

After time's harsh delay, after earth's pain, 
Christ led the mother to her glorious throne. 
Hence springs from heavenly hosts the loud refrain, 
The paean of saints, creation's saving truth, 
The Maker's and the creature's victory — 
That both may dwell in perfect unity. 




LJiK. 



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1903.] Roman Fountains. 209 




ROMAN FOUNTAINS. 

BY E. McAULIFFE. 

^ATER is the living joy of Rome. 

" Men here in Rome have written their names 
in water, and it has kept them longer than 
bronze or marble; . . . the water that is 
everywhere in Rome, floating, falling, shining, 
splashing, with the clouds mirrored on its surface, and the 
swallows skimming its foam. 

" I wonder to hear people say that Rome is sad with all 
that mirth and music of its water laughing through all its 
streets, till the steepest and stoniest ways are murmurous with 
it as any brook- fed forest depths. Here water is Protean, 
sovereign and slave, sorcerer and servant; slaking the mule's 
thirst, and shining in porphyry on the prince's terrace, filling 
the well in the cabbage garden, and leaping aloft against the 
Pope's palace; first called to fill the baths of the Agrippines 
and serve the Naumachia of Augustus, it bubbles from a 
griffin's jaws, or from a wolf's teeth, or any other of the thou- 
sand quaint things set in the masonry at the street corners, 
and washes the people's herbs and carrots, and is lapped by 
the tongues of dogs, and thrashed by the bare brown arms of 
washer- women. First brought from the hills to flood the 
green Numidian marble of the thermae, and lave the limbs of 
the patricians between the cool mosaic walls of the tepidarium, 
it contentedly becomes a household thing, twinkling like a star 
at the bottom of deep old wells in dusky courts, its rest 
broken a dozen times a day by the clash of the chain on the 
copper pail; above it the carnations of the kitchen balcony 
and the caged blackbird of the cook. 

" One grows to love the Roman fountains as sea-born men 
the sea. Go where you will there is the water; whether it 
foams by Trevi, where the green moss grows in it like ocean 
weed about the feet of the ocean god, or whether it rushes, 
reddened by the evening light, from the mouth of an old lion 
that once saw Cleopatra ; whether it leaps high in air, trying 



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[May, 



to reach the gold cross on St. Peter's, or pours its triple cas- 
cade over the Pauline granite ; whether it spouts out of a great 
barrel in a wall in old Trastevere, or throws up into the air a 
gossamer as Sne as Arachne's web in a green garden-way 




The Fountain of Trevi. 

where the lizards run, or in a crowded corner where the fruit- 
sellers sit against the wall, — in all its shapes one grows to love 
the water that fills Rome with an unchanging melody all 
through the year. 

" And best of all I love my own torrent that tumbles out 
of the masonry here close to the bridge of Sixtus, and has its 
two streams crossing one another like sabres gleaming bright 
against the dark, damp, moss- covered stones. There are so 
many fountains in our Rome, glorious, beautiful, and springing 
to high heaven, that nobody notices this one much, as, coming 
down through the Via Giulia, the throngs hurry on over the 
bridge, few, I fear, praying for the soul of the man that built 
it, as the inscription asks of them to do^ with a humility that 
is touching in a Pontiff ! " 

The writer of the above appreciated the beauty of the water 



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1903.] Roman Fountains. 211 

of Rome, as Ruskin appreciated the beauty of the "stones of 
Venice." Where all is beauty, above, beneath, around, one 
knows not what is most fascinating; one's attention is en- 
chained at every step. Let us take a nearer view of these 
fountains, entering Rome by the Porta del Popolo; the most 
beautiful square (Piazza) in Europe is before us. The obelisk 
in the centre has a fountain at its base ; four lions, life-size, 
pour from their mouths copious streams of water which fall 
into an immense basin of granite. On either side of the piazza 
are smaller fountains surmounted by colossal groups in marble. 
The water in these latter flows in sparkling showers from a 
small basin into a larger one, and again into another still larger. 
The effect of these crystal fringes is charming. 

We can here ascend the slopes of the Pincian hill, and 
passing through its leafy arcades, and by numerous fountains 
in great variety of design, reach the Via Sistina. We are soon 
at Piazza fiarbcrini, and in front of the celebrated fountain of 
the Tritone, by Bernini. A group of dolphins support a large 
shell on which sits a triton, blowing through a smaller shell a 
jet of water to an immense height. Keeping straight on, we 
ascend the Quirinal hill through the Via Quattro Fontane (four 
fountains), passing by the fiarberini palace and gardens, until 
we come to the Via Quirinale, which crosses it at right angles ; 
at each of the four angles is a fountain ; these are set against 
the walls of the corner buildings, and consist of classic figures 
in gray stone, pouring streams of water into as many basins. 

From here it is only a short distance to the fountain of 
Trevi, the description of which I will quote from Hawthorne : 

"The fountain of Trevi draws its precious water from a 
source far beyond the walls, whence it flows hitherward through 
old subterranean aqueducts, and sparkles forth as pure as the 
virgin who first led Agrippa to its well-springs by her father's 
door. 

"In the design of the fountain some sculptor of Bernini's school 
has gone absolutely mad, in marble. It is a great palace front, 
with niches and many bas-reliefs, out of which looks Agrippa's 
legendary virgin, and several of the allegoric sisterhood ; while 
at the base appears Neptune with his floundering steeds, and 
tritons blowing their horns about him, and twenty other arti- 
ficial fantasies, which the calm moonlight soothes into better 
taste than is native to them. 



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Roman Fountains. 



[May, 



" And after all it is as magnificent a piece of work as ever 
human skill contrived. 

"At the foot of the palatial fa9ade is strewn, with careful 
wit and ordered regularity, a broad and broken heap of massive 
rock, looking as if it may have lain there since the deluge. 
Over a central precipice falls the water, in a semicircular cascade ; 
and from a hundred crevices, on all sides, snowy jets gush up. 




Roman Urchins. 



and streams spout out of the mouths and nostrils of stone 
monsters, and fall in glistening drops ; while other rivulets that 
have run wild, come leaping from one rude step to another, 
over stones that are mossy, shining, and green with sedge,, be- 
cause, in a century of their wild play, nature has adopted the 
fountain of Trevi, with all its elaborate devices, for her own. 
Finally the water, tumbling, sparkling, and dashing, with joyous 
haste under never-ceasing murmur, pours itself into a great 
marble basin and reservoir, and fills it with a quivering tide; 



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1903] 



ROMAN Fountains. 



2\l 




The Aqua Paolo, — one of the Grandest Fountains of Rome. 



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214 ROMAN Fountains. [May, 

on which is seen, continually, a snowy semicircle of momentary 
foam from the principal cascade, as well as a multitude of 
snow points from smaller jets. 

"The basin occupies the whole width of the piazza, whence 
flights of steps descend to its border. A boat might float, and 
make mimic voyages on this artificial lake. 

''In the daytime there is hardly a livelier scene in Rome 
than the , neighborhood of the fountain of Trevi ; for the piazza 
is then tilled with stalls of vegetable and fruit dealers, chestnut 
roasters, cigar venders, etc. It is likewise thronged with idlers, 
lounging over the iron railing, and with forestieri who come 
here to see the famous fountain. Here also are men with 
buckets, urchins with cans, and maidens (a sight as old as the 
patriarchal times) bearing their pitchers upon their heads. For 
the water of Trevi is in request, far and wide, as the most 
refreshing draught for feverish lips, the pleasantest to mingle 
with the wine, and the wholesomest to drink, in its native 
purity, that can anywhere be found. But at midnight the 
piazza is a solitude ; and it is a delight to behold this untama- 
ble water, sporting by itself in the moonshine, and compelling 
all the elaborate trivialities of art to assume a natural aspect, 
in accordance with its own powerful simplicity. Tradition goes, 
that a . parting draught at the fountain of Trevi insures a 
traveller's return to Rome, whatever obstacles and improbabili* 
ties may seem to beset him." 

In the piazza of St. Peter's are two magnificent fountains 
who^e beauty depends not on artistic ornaments, but on the 
grand mass of water rising to the height of sixty-four feet and 
falling into immense basins. These fountains are always in 
motion, sending up their cool spray and catching the sun's rays 
until they form brilliant rainbows. 

The Aqua Paolo, on the Janlculum, close by the Franciscain 
church of San Pietro in Montorio, is one of the most splendid 
fountains. It has a grand fa9ade, resembling that of a church, 
with Ionic columns of red granite ; between the columns are 
niches, five in number, from which the water rushes in great 
masses into an immense basin beneath^ 

The Aqua Felice, near the baths of Diocletian, is also in 
the design of a fa9ade; with three arched niches, containing 
colossal statues of Moses, Aaron, and Gedeon. The central 
figure is a copy of Michael Anfrelo's Moses in St. Pietro in 



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ROMAN Fountains. 



215 




The Fountain of Moses. 



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2i6 ROMAN Fountains, [May, 

Vincoli. The artist, Prospero der Brescia, was so dissatisfied 
with his own work, on comparing it with the original, that he 
died of grief. 

The Fountain of Campidoglio was erected by Sixtus V., at 
the foot of the steps leading to the Capitol. It is ornamented 
with three antique statues; the central one, Minerva, is very 
beautiful ; it is of marble draped with porphyry. Colossal 
figures of the Nile and Tiber decorate the sides. These alle- 
gorical figures are of great antiquity; they were found among 
the ruins of the baths of Constantine on the Quirinal. 

The Piazza Navona, on the site of the ancient Circus 
Agonalis, where the gladiators fought, has three lovely foun- 
tains, erected by diflferent popes. The central and principal one 
is the work of Bernini. The design is a circular basin with a 
huge mass of rock in the centre; chained to the rock are four 
river gods, and there are grottoes piercing the sides in which 
we see, in one a lion and in the other a sea- monster. An 
obelisk on the summit of the rock completes the grand effect. 

The smaller fountains, at each end of the pia?za, ^re also 
adorned with marble groups representing nereids, tritons, sea- 
horses, and various monsters. 

These are only a few of the principal fountains, as the sub 
ject in detail would fill a volume. Their number is incalculable ; 
they are everywhere, not only in streets and squares, but in 
the courts of palaces and private houses. You hear the mur- 
mur of falling water while walking along a sunny street, and, 
following the sound, look into the open doorway of a palace; 
far back your eye rests on spreading palms and golden-fruited 
orange-trees, making a delicious shade, while from a niche in a 
moss- covered wall the sparkling water flows into a receptacle 
beneath. Many of these fountains are adorned with fine groups 
in marble. 

I will conclude with the Tre Fontane. For this pilgrimage 
we had to wait for a day of special weather, when the sharp- 
ness of the March wind was softened by the sun, which in turn 
was tempered by light clouds, making it possible to travel in an 
open carriage without being uncomfortably warm. And what a 
drive it was! — past the Forum of Trajan, past the Colosseum, 
under the Arch of Constantine, and through that exquisite region 
with Monte Coelio on our left, with the beautiful churches of St. 



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Roman Fountains. 



217 



on our 



Gregorio Magnus, and SS. John and Paul (Passionist) ; 
right, Monte Aventino. 

We left Rome by the Porta S. Paolo (St. Paul's Gate), pass- 
ing by the Pyramid of Cestius outside; a little further on a 
small chapel marks the place where St. Peter and St. Paul took 




St. Paul's Gate and the Pyramid of Caio Cestio. 

their last farewell of each other. A bas-relief over the central 
door commemorates the incident. 

" When Sts. Peter and Paul were taken from the prison to 
be led to martyrdom, they were brought out of the city by the 
Ostian gate, now called the gate of St Paul, and there took 
leave of each other. The spot is marked by the following in- 
scription: 'In questa luogo San Pietro e San Paolo si separarano 
andando al martyrio' Having tenderly embrac'ed and congratu- 
lated each other, St. Paul said: * Peace be with you. Head of the 
Church, Shepherd of all the lambs of Christ.* And Peter replied : 
' Go in peace, Preacher of Heavenly doctrine, guide of the just 
in the way of salvation.' 

"These were the last words that the princes of the Apostles 
spoke together on earth." 

A little further and we pass the splendid church of St. Paul 
outside the walls (Fuori le Muri), founded A. D. 388 by 



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2i8 Roman fountains. [May, 

Theodosius and Valentinian II. Continuing along the Via 
Laurentina, through the Campagna, our horizon bounded on the 
left by the Sabine Mountains, we soon reach the Abbadia^ which 
stands close to the spot on which St. Paul was beheaded. 
Tradition tells that when the head fell under the axe it re- 
bounded twice, and each time it touched the ground a fountain 
burst forth from the spot touched. A large gate gives ad- 
mission into a beautiful garden, with groves of eucalyptus- trees, 
under whose shade violets are blooming; in the garden plats 
arc flowers of every hue to delight the eye, and a number of 
miniature fountains and gleaming statues add to the artistic 
beauty of the place. 

Besides the abbey there are three churches in the enclosure, 
the central and principal one, S. Paolo alle Tre Fontane, en- 
closes the three fountains; these are covered over with marble 
arches, and in the centre of each, lying on the white or varie- 
gated marble, is an exquisitely sculptured head of the saint in 
Gialla Antica. The block of white marble on which he was 
beheaded is to be seen close by, encircled by a richly gilt iron 
railings which protects it from the evident devotion of pilgrims, 
who otherwise would have long since carried it away piecemeal ! 

In the vestibule of the church is a mural bas-relief in marble 
representing the scene of the martyrdom. 

The second church, Santa Maria Scala Coeli, is so named to 
commemorate a vision with which St. Bernard was favored 
when he was head of the abbey, of a ladder reaching to 
heaven, and numerous souls ascending thereon, conducted by 
angels, who told him they were all souls freed from Purgatory 
through his prayers. 

The third, SS. Vincenzo ed Anastatio, is the largest of the 
churches. The abbey and fountains are now under the charge 
of French Trappfsts, who have made great improvements, and 
planted the eucalyptus extensively in the grounds as a cor- 
rective of the malarial influence of the place. The frate are 
very courteous to pilgrims and visitors, and give them small 
vials filled with the precious water to take away with them ; 
and well content with our treasure, we left this holiest of 
Roman fountains ! 



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1903.] Later Words from France. 219 




LATER WORDS FROM FRANCE. 

BY W. F. P. STOCKLEY. 

EW Catholics who think and read but turn their 
eyes often towards France, and wonder, and 
hope, and fear. 

If you would consider the true cause . . . 
Why all these things change from their ordinance, 
Their natures and preformed faculties, 
To monstrous quality; why you shall find 
That heaven hath infused them with these spirits. 
To make them instruments of fear and warning 
Unto some monstrous state ; . . . 

— for warnings and portents 
And evils imminent." 

Is it possible that some men are going to try once more 
to force us to be without religion ? Whatever be the meaning 
of the acts of the new Jacobins, it is plain what those mean, to 
the madness of the people. "What is the use of taking such 
a lot of trouble to prove to us that it is not dark at midday," 
is the cry of one fanatic supporter of the Combes ministry. 
"We understand that you want to destroy religion; it seems 
clear as the sun that that is your meaning, and therefore we 
are with you."* 

Is it not clear? Here a Frenchman in Alsace goes to a 
Mass served devoutly by two Uhlans in regimentals. Back to 
his inn, he reads General Andre's circular, to soldiers over the 
border, telling them that the duty of the good fighter is to get 
rid of the religious idea — the War Minister wanting to make 
it sure that there be few die well that die in battle. With 
the true tone of the Jacobin, they will sacrifice all, for their 

•"The Combes and Waldeck Rousseau ministries told us, or we thought they meant, 
that in inviting us to the fight against the religious orders they were inviting us to a fight 
against clericalism, by which we mean the same thing as religion. And when we followed 
these ministers, I assert that we took their action to be only a first step, and understood that 
the republic once rid of the orders, would rid itself then of the secular clergy also." — M. 
SembtU, stssion of January 27, igoj. 



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220 Later Words from France. [May, 

dream of tyrannous uniformity. The French superior of an 
Alsatian convent is asked: "Would you now go back under 
France?" It is hard to speak against that land so agonizingly 
loved. But if they were to go back, the children would be 
torn from the nuns' care ; the holy ideal of the religious life 
would be disallowed; the charity of the church would be 
detested of the secularizing state. " No," — and a Frenchwoman 
has to say it, — "I will remain German." That it should come 
to this ! So the Germans are undertaking in the East the pro- 
tection of German Catholic missionaries; and the monopoly of 
influence is no longer with France. Even the government has 
to check some fanatics— for the present — who would cut off all 
supplies to the French religious schools, by which France her- 
self in the East is aided in holding her own. Yet now, even 
as a hundred years ago, the dog of revolution hungers and 
snaps all the more; for all your checks, for all your sops. 

The brutality in the populace understands. When some sis- 
ters are on their exile journey, they are met by a ministerial 
decree that no reduction of railway fare can now be allowed 
them. On the same day, January 7, is written the letter 
(meeting them on arrival in England), that for their conveni- 
ence the express would make a special stop at their way-side 
station, and that the sisters would find a special carriage re- 
served for their use in the train. The Jacobin shames his own 
France before the world; as the Univers bitterly noted. 

Two young badauds^ gredinSy at Victoria station, not long 
since, saw a French priest's luggage awaiting registration. 
They mislaid it. But a London " Bobby " spied them ; and 
he threatened to take the law on them : ** I 'd like you to 
know that you *re in a country where priests are respected." 
Never again, said another French priest, will I cross the Atlan- 
tic by a French line; as he recounted the miseres or the 
grossieretis to which some cads or blackguards had subjected 
him. Still, that priests are generally insulted by even children of 
state schools in France is not, I think, true. An Irish priest's 
word to that effect, some months ago, was not sustained. But, 
the shrinking the French priest has too often — whence does it 
arise? There is only one answer. How any man can be so 
blind as not to see in the present persecution an anti- religious 
movement as such, is what daily astonishes us, and gives cause for 
words again and again that may point the true moral of what is 



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1903.] Later Words from France. 221 

passing ; where some • see only a republican government's protest 
against royalist ecclesiastics. There are the same deceptions, the 
same blandishments when necessary, the old pitting of secular 
clergfy against religious, the old "reforming"; above all, the 
Caesarism, the world, and its notions of Anglicanism, Gallican- 
ism, worship of fitre Supreme, or of Reason, or of Emperor, 
as the case may be. The aim is to allow nothing but our re- 
ligion, our national church, our will of the sovereign people. 
Republics are and have been full as capable of tyranny as the 
most absolute of monarchies. 

It is, as I say, astonishing that an intelligent Frenchn:an 
and Catholic of a seemingly dilettante sort, correspondent of 
the London Pilots could be so deluded. He confesses that he 
believed in Waldeck Rousseau's moderation ; believed that this 
scheme of his was really to free men from monastic interference ; 
to control irresponsible bodies ; to foster true patriotism ; to 
strengthen religion, shall we say ? Yet he had read 1 789- 
1801 ; doubtless, he had. And learnt nothing. He confesses, 
further, that now he sees and knows that it is tyranny, and that 
M. Combes means war on religion. You can!t prove to some 
people that it is not dark at midday. Let them turn again to 
Taine. They will read themselves in the disillusioned : " Oh, 
Liberty! what crimes are committed in thy name." Let them 
read the beautiful pious plans of a Luther, a Cranmcr, nay, of 
a Henry the Eighth. Why don't well-disposed persons read 
history to their profit ; to the safety of their necks ? What 
destroyers ever preached destruction ? They were all reformers, 
all preachers against tyranny; while their language is, out of 
their own mouths, the pretended justification of tyranny's lan- 
guage at all times: "Your liberty is incompatible with my 
personal safety." 

And as one writes from France these days: "the whole 
nation seems reduced to spies and slaves." That is just what 
this cursed system produces ; as in the worst informer days de- 
nounced by Burke. 

What are the sources of weakness ? There are two great 
quarrels or dull misunderstandings among French Catholics. 
One is the question of dynasty ; of republic versus monarchy or 
empire. Look at the scorn of the Autorite for the Univers^ 
which latter has " rallied " to the republic, according to the 

^ E,g., Montreal Gazette s leading article, April 15, 1903, 



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222 Later Words from France. [May, 

direction of the Pope. It is hard to put up with la gueuse^ the 
others say. But, if the Pope can. There is the proper answer. 

The other quarrel is over liberal and conservative education, 
the training of the clergy in universities or in seminaries, the 
critical study of the Holy Scriptures, the attitude towards 
scientific discovery; the whole question of liberty and order. 
We saw the wildness of one side, in the attacks on the American 
Church. There is sometimes, on the liberal side, an unseemly 
tone of scoffing. What will you do at all, in these learned 
days ? Sure, my child, we'll trust to the grace of 'God, is an 
answer in Luke Debnege. But, as is mostly the way, there is 
much to be said on both sides. M. Loisy has now been 
summoned to Rome. May he be, not Lamennais, but Lacor- 
daire, but Didon ! May he have the grace of F^nelon ! 

Are there any signs of things better? Well, we know, or 
we ought to know, tliose Lettres d'un cure de campagne^ Lettres 
d*un cure de canton. Go to the people, is their note. 

And here is a story. A French Canadian bishop goes into 
a French town; and from the convent where he puts up, he 
goes to visit M. le Cur^. Very civilly he was received ; and to 
show further respect, the priest would accompany the bishops — 
I believe there were two — on their return. •' But not by that 
street, monseigneur." " Why ? " " That is the chief street of 
the town ; you would be insulted ; I never walk there." ** But 
I have just walked down it; and no word said, but of respect." 
The French cur^, with his fear of the rigime and all its ways, took 
the '' British " bishop down the side alleys, and landed him safe 
from the priest's own parishioners. Oh, the pity of it ! 

The same bishop declared that he knew of a Canadian priest 
who went to stay with a French brother. "Are you having 
May devotions?" "Not at all; no one would go." "Will 
you let me have them ? " " Certainly, if you can get a congre- 
gation." So the Canadian went from house to house, and 
gathered crowds, who came, and were preached to, and came 
again And yet, I need hardly say, that in most places in France 
an ordinary traveller finds that a goodly number do find their 
way, between five o'clock and noon, to one of the many Masses. 
But I heard another priest of this continent, and he Irish by 
descent, tell of a place in the south of France. In an usine he 
spoke to the girls there working ; and they claimed a medal or so 
that he had. Then, up came some grimy big men, and wanted 



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1903.] Later Words from France. 2^3 

more of the same. So the conversation began: "Do you go 
to Mass?" "No, monsieur Tabbe; but we're Catholics." 
"You're no Catholics; you're no Frenchmen." "Oh, yes, we 
are, monsieur I'abbe; but, do you see, the priests here don't 
come and talk to us this way." At last a great Vulcan ^ put his 
arms round the stranger priest, and burst out : " Ah^ monsieur 
tabbe^ si nous avions des cures comme vous^ nous irions a confesse.^^ 
My people have not understood. And doubtless, as the 
French priest quoted below writes concerning these habits: 
"one country is not like another." Nevertheless, it had to be 
written : 

" Alas ! they had been friends in youth : 
But whispering tongues can poison truth. 

Each spake words of high disdain." 

To quote on seems too hard. It is not true; it cannot be 
true. Yet, these things remain for our warning : 

" They parted ne'er to meet again ! 
But never either found another 
To free the hollow heart from paining ; 
They stood aloof — the scars remaining. 
Like cliffs which had been rent asunder: 
A dreary sea now flows between; 
But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder. 
Shall wholly do away, I ween, 
The marks of that which once hath been." 

England, and France, and the Church ; let us think and 
read, meditate well, and learn. Let not division come be- 
tween our souls, let it not; between us, priests and laymen. 
Live in two different worlds of education ; and the mischief will 
be done. 

Do not forget Catholic England. Things have been, that 
may be again. 

One of the recent Notes and Queries from London — 
February. 7 — had words concerning an old English monastery, 
one of those shrines to call the English back to their church; 
one of the " marks." He writes of their destruction, in "a moral 

VOL. LXXTII.— 15 

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224 Later Words from France. [May, 

and religious earthquake of gigantic proportions, and one that 
shook the whole of English country life to its foundations." How 
short a convulsion. What results ! The writer continues : 
"When M. Sabatier was in England this last time, he was 
describing the ascent of a mountain which he had recently 
made. In mentioning the mist that enveloped himself and the 
guide, and completely blotted out the view at the summit, he 
added that the guide turned to him and said : ' Monsieur, if you 
lay your ear to the ground, you will hear the tears of the whole 
world falling'! Perhaps for some of us, if we too laid our ear* 
to the past — even though it be a past of four centuries and a 
half ago — we should hear some faint echoes of the heartbreaks 
that shivered through that seven years* • upheaval of old tradi- 
tions, of old associations, of the old — once so familiar — monas- 
terial- life, from country folk, from dependents, from artificers 
in rare handicrafts, and from the homeless, exiled monks, whose 
compulsory exodus turned them adrift on the world. History 
repeats itself, and so the fate of the Benedictines and other 
orders in 1536 pursues to-day the Carthusian monks and many 
other religious orders in France. The government having 
refused to authorize more than five of all the orders that have 
been for so many years * sons of the soil ' in France, they are 
to be exiled, and the place where they worked so untiringly 
for the poor, and offered hospitality so ungrudgingly, is to 
know them no more." 

And now whither are we tending? Will France stop this 
time ? 

" I do not believe that most, not to say nearly all French- 
men will be satisfied with simple moral notions taught as they 
are superficially in our schools. There must be a doctrine, 
something practical ; that is a need for men facing the trials of 
life." And so went on — M. Combes. He looked to reason 
governing and guiding future men. But Christian traditions are 
still, he said, too strong in France. And a stroke of the pen 
does not destroy a people's religious ideas. 

" Why, now you talk sense, absolute sense." 

Not for M. Buisson ; for he protested, — in the session of Janu- 
ary 27, — he who maintains that the secularized school gives 
higher moral instruction than does any religion, by its modest and 
simple morality. 

• 1529-1536. 



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1903.] Later Words from France. 225 

I give my own experience in Paris schools. But read also 
the confessions from their inspectors, that the least satisfactory 
part of the course was this " civic and moral instruction," 
replacing the old religious teaching. However, I said, would 
they kindly give some of this new instruction. Certainly. And 
it began : " When are you a Frenchman ? " " What is the first 
duty of a Frenchman ? " '* To kill his enemies," came as answer 
expected. I have never forgotten that catechism lesson, on the 
first duty of man. But even a speech of a M. Combes may 
now be taken as a sign that this will never do. It is not your 
foolish fancies or mine that can alter the eternal condition of 
things. 

Here, as the very last word, is an extract from one of the 
patient religious of France, written this last month for our 
edification ; for our instruction too, on the state of affairs ; and 
for our warning, lest we form too hasty judgments : 

" Oui, vous savez aussi bien que moi ce qui se passe. 
Helas ! nousL nous attendons, nous aussi, a partir. Nos dtudi- 
ants sont deja [en Angleterre] : ils y sont tranquilles et font 
leurs etudes thdologiques paisiblement. 

" Vous me dites, monsieur, touchant les rapports du clerge 
avec les fideles, des choses ou il y a du vrai ; neanmoins il 
faut accorder que le pretre gen^ralement parlant, s'occupe bien 
de ceux qui lui sont soumis" — I had said frankly what is ofter 
said among French Canadian clergy and others, concerning the gap 
or severance that there seems to be between priests and people 
in France — " fonde et soutient beaucoup de bonnes oeuvres. Le 
pretre fran9ais a ce caractere, qui ne Tabandonne jamais, d'etre 
zele " — and America has the best reasons for knowing the truth 
of that. "Peut-etre entreprend-il trop a la fois, et veut-il trop 
diriger seul. . . . Quant au genre familier qui devrait r^g- 
ner entre le clerge et les fideles, c'est affaire de pays : ce qui 
peut etre bon ici pent ne Tetre pas ailleurs. S;S. Ldon XIII. a 
trac^ sur ce point des regies bien sages. . . . 

" Les ligues de tout genre qui surgissent ici et la sont excel- 
lentes. Une foule d'oeuvres reviennent aux laiques" — they are 
then but following the recent intentions of the Apostleship of 
Prayer — "et ils font bien de les entreprendre. Les hommes 
simplement honnetes s'unissent a la fin pour defendre tous les 
droits menaces. Je dirais volontiers que jusqu'ici, les la'iques 
surtout se sont trop d^sinteresses du salut de leurs freres. On 



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226 PARADOXES. [May. 

a fait de Tart, de la litterature, tout ce que Ton veut: on n'a 
pas assez vis^ i Tame. 

'' Mais pour le faire pour les autres, il faut le faire d'abord 
pour soi. Bien des catholiques ne sont pas catholiques com^ 
pletsr 

I could add from a parish priest — perhaps too much a pes- 
simist — his hopeless words concerning a laity ready still to give 
money to support religion, but not willing themselves to prac- 
tise it. Or the Bishop of Nice's Lenten Pastoral, on the zeal- 
ous remnant among the laity; all that can be found. 

But let us close here with the hope of a fourth ecclesiastic, 
even for that other laity of the government — who (as he notes, 
indeed) " now will have ecclesiastics serve two years in the 
army instead of one year/' and *' whose employees must send 
their children to non-religious schools" — "Esp^rons que 9a 
finira." Spes contra spent. 




^AF^ADOXBS. 

BY GEORGE H. TURNER. 

HE saddest tears that are ever shed 

Are the tears that no one sees. 
The unsung songs are the sweetest ones 
In the world of harmonies ! 



The longing hope of a silent heart 
Is the hope that is not expressed, 

The tenderest clasp the hand might give 
Is the clasp of a hand at rest. 

Our daily life may bring to the feast 
The friends that we daily meet, 

But the absent guest is the only one 
The heart is longing to greet! 



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(Joyce Jossblyn, Sinnbf^. 



BY MARY SARSFIELD GILMORE. 



Part III. 

AT THE TURN OF MATURITY. 




CHAPTER VIII. 

EXIT IMOGEN. 

JAM'SELLE, caught napping, had been but mildly- 
surprised when aroused by Imogen from her fire- 
side dreams, to congratulate Joyce the affianced. 
By compensative law, the simple and innocent 
nature makes up in intuition what it lacks in 
suspicion ; and since the young widow's return to the West, 
Mam'selle had recognized between Imogen and. Joyce the 
pulsations of emotional possibilities. But though her surprise 
was not great, as much cannot be said of her pain. She 

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. 

Joyce Josselyn, born and brought up amidst all the narrowing restraints of New England 
farm-life, conceives the idea of going to college. His father Hiram considers that college was 
intended for the sons of the rich and that no son of his should waste his youth in college, and if 
Joyce chose to sulk a good stout horsewhip was the best cure for the voimgster's stubborn fan- 
cies. Joyce finds a sympathizer in his desire for learning in Father Nlartin Carruth. 

Chapter II. is a touching family scene between the irate Hiram and the recalcitrant Joyce, 
which concludes in Joyce receiving a flogging with the horsewhip and leaving home. Chapter 
III. introduces Mandy Johnson as the boy's sweetheart, whom he meets as he is turning his 
back on the home of his childhood for ever, and they make promises of fidelity. 

In the first chapters of Part II. Joyce as a college student is presented to the various per- 
sonalities who make their home in Carruthdale, the manor-house of Centreville, and there is 
given an insight into the social life of a college town. 

Joyce was graduated with highest honors. Commencement Day at college. Father 
Martin is there for the first time since his own graduation. Dr. Castleton, the president, 
awakens into the spiritual sense. Joyce having outgrown Mandy Johnson, by common con- 
sent their life-ways separate. Joyce enters the world. He accepts the offer tendered to him to 
be sub-editor on a Western paper, and in this capacity, on the morrow of his graduation, he 
enters the vigorous, bustling hfe of the energetic West. At the moment' of his departure he 
calls on Mrs. Ravmond and a significant interview takes place, in which the influence of a wo- 
man of the world enters his life. On the journey to the West Joyce has a long talk with Ray- 
mond, in which the latter gives his views on various matters, and states the terms on which he 
engages Joyce. Arrived in San Francisco, Jovce sends an exuberant telegram to his mother. 
Joyce enters social life and takes part in a ball at the Golden Gate Ranch. Mina and Joyce 
are drawn unto each other, while Raymond's wife talks of divorce. Mina and Raymond, land- 
ing at Island Rock, are both drowned. Joyce endeavors to save them, and narrowly escapes 
with his OMm life. After Raymond s death Mrs. Raymond removes to San Francisco, pending 
the settlement of her husband's estate. Pearson, having assumed control of the Pioneer, has 
a stormy interview with Joyce. Mrs. Raymond suddenly decides to sail for Europe ; Joyce, fail- 
ing to agree to her plans, decides to remain with the Pioneer. Stephen proposes to Gladys. 
Joyce meets with the great temptation. Pearl Ripley, a Comedy Girl, enters into his life. 
Womanhood has lost something of its spiritual beauty as the result. Later on he is lured into 
a scheme of stock gambling. Stephen engages in social work, and tastes some of the higher 
^ings of life. He meets Gladys after the promised year's delay ; while Mrs. Raymond, a 
resdess woman of the world, comes into Joyce's life again. Joyce is about to declare his 
love for Gladys when the news comes of a mine swindle. Joyce saves Hans from despair, but 
comes again under the sway of Mrs. Raymond's power. Joyce and Imogen are married. On 
returning from their honeymoon Imogen dies very suddenly. Her death is the cause of Joyce's 
spiritual regeneration. 



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228 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner, [May, 

doubted if Imogen were the right woman for Joyce, she 
doubted if Joyce were the right man for Imogen ; while, above 
all, she feared that in the loneliness following her surrender of 
Stephen, Gladys' heart had rebounded towards Joyce. There- 
fore it was with a prayer on her lips that, in the *' wee sma' 
hour" pressing closely upon the midnight betrothal, she had 
stolen to the door connecting her room with Gladys', and 
knocking softly, ventured to open it. She did not choose that 
the girl's sensitive and expressive face should be subjected to 
daylight and her triumphant rival's pitiless eyes, when the an- 
nouncement of Joyce's engagement first reached her. 

" Not asleep ? " Mam'selle exclaimed, as Gladys bade her 
enter. *' That is ill, petite, — ill, and yet well for my gossip ! I 
have the secret to whisper, confided to you and me only. Our 
dear Imogen will marry again. But to-night, she is affianced! 
You will guess to whom ? But yes ! I am sure that it is not 
the great surprise, my Gladys ! Like me, you, too, have seen 
— have expected — *' 

But Mam'selle was mistaken. Gladys' expectations and fore- 
sight had been far from the truth now forced upon her. 
Significantly conscious of Joyce's entrance and exit, — wondering 
as to Imogen's designs, doubting her own duty towards him in 
his difficulties, — perhaps, more than all, simply thinking of him 
in a girl's dreamful way, her wakeful eyes had gazed into a 
darkness purpled by the sweet vision of her violets, — ^haunted 
by Joyce's soft petition, ** May I wear your colors. Miss 
Broderick ? " Why had he desired them, displayed them, 
trifled with her, mocked her, on the verge of engagement to 
Imogen ? 

She raised herself, leaning her weight on her elbow. 
Against her cheek her hand pressed her silver rosary; -Once, 
twice, her lips parted, yet no sound issued from them. Then 
the shame of her silence smote her. 

" Mrs. Raymond is engaged to Mr. JosSelyn, of course,'* 
she stammered in an unfamiliar voice of discordant sharpness. 
Then she made a piteous effort to speak naturally, indifferently. 
" They — will make — a very handsome couple ! " 

Then she tossed impatiently, wearily. Why did Mam'selle 
not go ? Her great news was told. Now for merciful solitude ! 
Until she was alone, she could not understand or believe that 
Imogen and Joyce were engaged, were to be married ! 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 229 

Her tense arm, with a sudden tremor, relaxed. Framed in 
its loosemed fair hair, her head sank back listlessly against its 
pillow. Her upturned face, like a young star, ^as pallid in the 
darkness. As she spoke, her hand clasped her white throat. 

" Dear Mam'selle," she murmured, " I thank you so much 
for your confidence. But it is late, so late, — and I am — tired. 
To- morrow, we shall discuss the great news. To-morrow — " 

" Ah, petite ! " Mam'selle was on her knees by the bed, a 
sob breaking her voice, — mother-pain in her heart. " Youth is 
the golden age, yes: for it has always — to-morrow! Yesterday, 
to-day, what do they matter, since still there is — to-morrow? 
The future — the beautiful future — " 

" Yes, — my life is before me. Of course, of course ! And 
since Mina has gone, — and Mrs. Raymond is to be married, — 
you must share it, dear Mam'selle, — you must help me to live 
it! You and I, just we two, you and I"^ — 

She turned her face to the pillow. Her tears were flowing. 
Mam'selle and she ? Yes, such seemed her future, serene, 
devout, dutiful, yet to her youth and girlhood, her tender 
heart, how monotonous, how colorless, how depleted of life, — 
what a vista of desolation ! 

She left her bed, and after an aimless turn about the room, 
took from the table the little red book that had been her father's 
message to her from the grave that had no victory over his 
immortal soul, his deathless love, — and turning its leaves to and 
fro unseeingly, showered it with tender kisses. Then, by her 
bedside, she fell on her knees, burying her face in the soft 
down-coverlet To her rosary was attached an exquisite 
crucifix. Her lips bruised themselves against it. 

"Dear Lord," .she sobbed, ," dear Christ! What is it? 
Why am I hurt? What is he to me, save a prodigal soul I 
was striving to save for Thee ? But thy grace can follow him ! 
Thou — and he— do not need me ! And I can pray for him, I 
can always pray for him." 

This, her prayer of lip, was sincere in as far as it went 1 
But that it stopped short of truth deep and soulful, Gladys was 
agonizingly aware. What, then, did her heart-ache, her secret 
tears mean ? Even alone in the dark, she blushed hotly. 

Was it possible, she asked herself, that she, Gladys Broder- 
ick, was of the coarse and vulgar sort of girl to fancy herself 
in love with any jnan intimately associated with her, to give 



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230 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [May, 

her love unsolicited and undesired, without woman-pride or 
maidenly delicacy ? But no ; the memory of rejected suitors 
promptly absolved her. Then a worse fear tortured her. Was 
she convicted of light love, of fickleness, of unfaith to Stephen, 
since his choice of the better part had cost her tears recently, 
— even though tears less bitter than she was shedding now ? 
But love is its own touchstone, and between affection and 
affinity Gladys' heart distinguished at last. Yet though vindi- 
cated, she was unconsoled, her renunciation of Stephen seeming 
to emphasize and intensify the defection of Joyce! Was the 
coincidence of loss predictive of her vocation, her destiny ? 
From isolation of life, loveless liberty of life, her tender and 
dependent nature shrank anticipatively. 

** Is it always to be some obstacle, some impediment, 
some priority, dear Christ ? " she sobbed. " Am I to fulfil my 
mission of wealth unaided ? Lord, the Maries of the world still 
have need of their Josephs ! Yet not my will, — Thy Will be 
done ! " 

Her tears shone like gems on the silver crucifix. The dawn 
stole through the window, and found her still on her knees. 
So she fell asleep, wearied with watching and weeping. It 
was Gladys' first vigil of love. 

Few things in a cruel and pathos-full world are more cruel, 
more pathetic, than the heart-ache of the woman who has 
loved and lost in whatever degree, contrasted with the virtual 
insensibility of the man concerned. Far more strongly, though 
less finely, than Gladys had been attracted to Joyce during 
their recent intimacy, had Joyce, in spite of vacillations towards 
Imogen, been attracted to Gladys ; yet with his brilliant mar- 
riage and tour abroad in prospect, his embryo emotion effaced 
itself in effect. For the time, Gladys was as if she had never 
been. Yet it is only the passions of earth that know death 
eternal. The spiritual impress resurrects itself, — is immortal ! 

In truth, Joyce was scarcely quite sane or responsible dur- 
ing the bewildering weeks intervening between his engagement 
and wedding. Aside from Imogen's claims, which were con- 
stant and confusing, his tangled personal affairs demanded his 
closest attention. The Pioneer Mine matter was so cleverly 
manipulated, that before its failure involved him legally, it was 
established as the : liability of the veteran miner and multi- 
millionaire, Richard Dawson ; and all investors being fully in- 



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1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 331 

demnified^ while the absconding Bull and Price went their evil 
way in peace, the scandal sown by the Scout was nipped in the 
bud, greatly to the confusion of the Pioneer^s worsted rival. 

Considering this happy consummation, the Colonel relented, 
and revoked his edict of banishment from the Pioneer^ little 
suspecting the cause of Joyce's failure to profit by it, though 
later, to quote his own disgusted acknowledgment verbatim, 
he " kicked himself for a blanked old fool ! " 

As his wedding day approached, Joyce, in honor and grati- 
tude, took Dick's father into the secret, and was rewarded by 
the return of his Shasta bonds, which he had signed oyer on 
the day following the Scoufs exposure. 

** They 're from Dick, not from me," the old man assured 
him, thus silencing his sincere protests. So lucky Joyce again 
fell on his feet. Moreover, despite his honorable struggles, 
Imogen settled a fortune upon him, being at once too wise to 
sacrifice her own independence, yet too proud not to wish the 
man she married to be financially her equal. 

But even his sudden accession to fortune seemed less won- 
derful to Joyce than the fact of his engagement, when he had 
leisure to realize it. His breath quickened, his heart- beats were 
as irregularly nervous as a startled woman's, when his marriage 
with "Queen Imogen" forced itself upon his consciousness as a 
proximate reality, while still seeming to him, in sober sense, 
but as a fancy of spring-time madness, a mad imagining, — a 
dazzling, evasive delusion. Yet the sun of the day allotted 
rose and set in its time, and Imogen Raymond was Joyce Jos- 
selyn's wife ! 

It had been Imogen's whim that only Mam'selle and Gladys 
should be cognizant of her engagement, that the. ceremony 
should be private, the flight abroad secret, the marriage and 
departure announced only when the deed was irrevocable, and 
she and Joyce no longer features of the passing show ! Know- 
ing her world, Imogen knew, too, that criticism and censure 
are accorded only the visible culprit, and that no nine- days' 
wonder pursues the absent, who are out of mind, being out of 
sight! 

It was the dark side to Joyce's Overland trip in the ecstatic 
atmosphere of love and luxury, that his bride steadfastly refused 
any communication with his parents or Father Martin. Letters 
and cards, mailed as they sailed, must suffice, she insisted ; and 



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232 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [May, 

of course Joyce respected her wish. The sweet shyness, the 
proud modesty of it, though disappointing his impulse, yet 
satisfied his ideal. He did not realize that Imogen shrank only 
from Father Martin's disapproval of their marriage, which went 
without saying, — from the tribunal, once before faced and 
resentfully remembered, — of Mrs. Josselyn's woman-judgment, 
her wifely ideals, her maternal convictions ! Imogen desired no 
principles, no duties, no sense of responsibility, to subdue the 
laughter of her bridal- days, and contest the soulless reign of 
selfish pleasure. She wished only Joyce in her transformed 
life, — Joyce with his vital youth, his fresh passion, his riotous 
spirits, his magnetic exultation ia life, in love, in all the good 
things that these had dealt him, — ^Joyce with all that Raymond 
had been too mature, too earnest, too restrained to hold her, 
with all that her own earliest youth, her world-warped nature, 
her first loveless marriage, had missed! 

" Our honeymoon, Joyce," she vaunted, smiling skyward one 
cold but glorious night, as the ocean- liner cut through the illu- 
mined waters, with gallantly sustained speed. They were the 
last on deck nightly, for Imogen liked late hours, and upon 
Joyce was the spell of the wonderful ocean. Stinging cold, 
beating winds, frozen spray underfoot, the lurch of the rail 
towards death-deeps, had no warning for him. The infinite sea 
with its restless rhythm, its sky and its space, its majestic 
loneliness, thrilled his soul even as love was thrilling Imogen's 
human heart. Yet, as was inevitable under the circumstances, 
his finest susceptibilities were blunted by such enervating indul- 
gence of the mortal side as paralyzes the aspiring spirit. Imo- 
gen's love, his new riches, went to his head like wine. His 
transition dazed and surprised him. 

" Our honeymoon, still, Joyce," she repeated later, with 
happy assurance, leaning upon his arm as he gazed spell-bound 
on the golden Roman Campagna. Up and down the coast and 
across-country they had wandered desultorily, tempted from 
Turin and Nice by the music of Milan, retracing their way 
back to Monaco and its reckless excitement, following the 
Apennines down towards the art- shrines of Florence the beau- 
tiful; speeding from Naples to Sicily, from Vesuvius to the 
picturesque, desolated, tragical land of the Vendetta, then up 
by the marvellous blue waters of the Mediterraneair and Adri- 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 233 

atic, to the bridat-city with its doves and gondolas, — leaving 
Rome as the best, for the final goal! The close of Lent in 
the city of Peter impressed Joyce deeply; but Imogen's 
thoughts had begun to turn Pariswards ! 

" But there is only one Rome," protested Joyce, loath to 
depart from the supernal city. 

Elsewhere, he had experienced the startling unfamiliarity, 
the bewildering novelty which repels even as it attracts, until 
its alien charm is assimilated ; but in the city of Peter he had 
not felt a stranger, but the restful sense of one who sights home. 

The soul, the heart, the intellect of Rome the eternal, of 
the Old World, of all the great past, were concentrated and 
pulsing vitally in the Roman Church, which was his own by 
maternal inheritance, by baptism, and by more recent and in- 
timate forces. In St. Peter's, the Maintown rectory and Father 
Martin's precepts seemed affiliated memories. Stephen's con- 
victions, even Gladys' gospels of life and wealth, challenged 
him newly, in the atmosphere of the Vicar of Christ, with 
which his spirit strained to be in harmony. But of Italy, 
which cannot be dissevered from its Rome, — and what is Rome 
save the Church, the See? — Imogen had had a surfeit! She 
felt, too, that Joyce needed a Parisian antidote to the spiritual 
draught refining his taste as a realist She preferred realism, 
within limits, to spiritual idealism. Rome awed her. Had she 
not seen its miracles worked on men of the world less im- 
pressionable than Joyce, and who had had more at stake ? 
First, Martin ; then. Dr. Castleton ; most recently Stephen ! 
What if Joyce should follow these ? 

"We have moped too long," she said as Joyce's eyes re- 
luctantly looked their last on Rome in the distance. "Solitude 
a deux^ -too prolonged, has its morbid^ temptation ! Social life 
will invigorate and brace you ! " 

"But I thought that Rome's functions were jolly — " began 
Joyce, who had been the pet of more than one palace, and 
therefore approved the society she ignored. 

" Pooh ! " — Imogen dismissed Rome with a gesture. " The 
atmosphere of a house divided is always provincial, — local! 
Between Quirinal and Vatican, Roman society has fallen. Poli- 
tical intrigue, ecclesiastical^, partisanship, disintegrate the social 
element. Moreover, nwn biau, I am pining to exploit you. 
The Count de Castlevieux must see his ' beau garcon ' evolved^ 



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234 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [May, 

— Lord Buckinghati^ shine in your reflected light, at his clubs ! 
You must return to America with the Continental stamp, the 
mark of London, upon you! Any Seminarist may boast of 
' Rome's credentials.' " 

So Joyce had his hour of madness in Paris, — not the Paris 
of Notre Dame, of Montmartre, of the Madeleine, as would 
have been his inspiration while Rome's impressions were still 
fresh upon him, but the Paris of the bouvelards, the caf^s, the 
theatres, the dance- gardens ; then, as Imogen's wild mood was 
spent, the exclusive, the incomparable Paris of palais and 
chateau and noble maison, of ancient family, heritage, and 
tradition. 

As was inevitable considering temperamental response to 
exterior conditions, Imogen's honeymoon waxed in Paris from 
crescent to flaming sphere. On the ocean, she had been 
youthfully exuberant and triumphant ; throughout Italy, uncon- 
sciously yet irresistibly spiritualized and chastened from love's 
early fervor to riper tenderness; but Paris, the shrine of living 
saints, is likewise the maelstrom of human passion, and Imogen 
was caught by its tide. Her peace of heart became unrest, — 
her content, a vague desire. She was all wild moods, light 
whims, of coquettishly fickle fancies and chameleon personali- 
ties, — to-day a dancing Dryad in the secluded heart of the 
Bois, to-morrow the queen of the most conservative palais of 
patrician Paris. The Count de Castlevieux, still unsettled 
matrimonially, found the young American wife even more 
adorable than she had been as a widow, and established him- 
self in her shadow. At first Joyce felt complimented by the 
cachet put on his own taste by the Count's admiration ; but 
later, Imogen's coquetry, although innocent and uncompromis- 
ing enough in itself, yet perplexed and distressed him. The 
possessive jealousy of young husbandhood began to assert itself; 
&nd his matrimonial ethics were not yet those of smart society, 
but of unfashionably simple and moral ancestry. 

** Look here, Queenie," he protested, on their last night in 
Paris, " that French fellow can't dangle after you across the 
Channel, as he proposes. I want a chance to do ' the society- 
act with my wife, my own self! He's been Count-ing himself 
in, long enough ! " 

Imogen's laugh trilled gaily. She was amused by Joyce's 
bourgeois ideals. 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 235 

" The poor Count ! " she said. " You fail to appreciate the 
faux pas he has spared you. Identified with your wife, you 
would be the laughing stock of the world. In society, mar- 
riage is the most distant of all relations!" 

"Then society's dead wrong, and you women ought to set 
it right It 's unnatural, its immoral, all this flirtation ! " 

" Joyce ! " 

" I mean what I say, Imogen, and I have thought before 
speaking. The only man who has a right to be identified 
socially with a wife, is her husband; and I am going to stand 
on my right, in future ! " 

Her light mood gave place to indignant anger. 

" You presume to give me social lessons, — -you ? " she 
taunted. 

** On the contrary, anti-social lessons are my better ambi- 
tion. Womanliness, wifeliness, seem out of the social cur- 
riculum." 

" Are you criticising me f " she demanded, with blazing 
eyes. 

" I am protesting against the ways of the world that rules 
you. Marriage brings them home to the heart of a man, and 
he recognizes their folly and mistake." 

"Sol" she murmured, with satire. "And — ^previous to— ^ 
marriage ? " 

"Before marriage — ^before love, he is apt, I suppose, to 
take the world as he finds it." 

" How sincere of you to imply love and marriage to be 
synonymous ! " 

"What do you mean?" he demanded, as his face flushed 
guiltily. 

She clasped her hands behind her elaborately coiffured and 
jewelled head, lounging back at ease as Joyce stood tensely 
before her. 

" A rash question, man cker^* she evaded. " A wise man 
would not ask it." 

" You cannot answer it You know — nothing ! " defied Joyce, 
losing his head. 

She laughed softly, derisively. 

"Nothing — ^and all," she said with a flashing glance of defi- 
ance. "That when we went abroad we left you a youth, and 
returned to find you a man, counts nothing, of course, in your 



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236 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [May, 

masculine reckoning ! As if years left a trace, lacking life and 
emotion 1 Every man is a boy, till he loves ! " 

** Imogen— " 

** Pray preserve golden silence. I am not reproaching you. 
But you must not pose as a saint, nor accredit me with illu- 
sions such as a girl like Gladys, for instance, might cherish. I 
warned her at your tea that she idealized you, but she did 
not thank me. A girl fancies she cannot believe, and for- 
give!" 

She rose, laughing still> and dragging off the long suede 
gloves covering her unsleeved arms to the shoulders, waved 
them before his face mischievously, teasingly. Standing thus, 
he in correct evening dress, she in trailing velvet, — for they had 
just returned from their farewell social function in Paris, — they 
were indeed, as Gla4ys had prophesied, a handsome couple. 
Yet to-night their beauty seemed antagonistic rather than com- 
plemental. Imogen resented Joyce's protest as a social reproof ; 
and upon his side Joyce was stupefied by Imogen's daring dis- 
closures. Justified by vaguest suspicion, she had warned Gladys 
of his moral stain I His face was stern with anger. He recalled 
the coldness and reserve with which Gladys had startled him 
upon the occasion of his tea, and understood now that the girl 
who was his guest, whose colors he had adopted,, had been 
suffering the hurt of a profaned spirit. Ascribing his visible 
displeasure to tender sentiment rather than to spiritual chivalry, 
Imogen's face clouded, and her playfulness ceased. Thrusting 
him from her with disdainful finger-tips, she swept from the 
room in haughty silence. Thus a new phase, a lurid phase of 
her honeymoon was initiated, a fickle moon, veering from 
flame to eclipse. Her moods became as uncertain as the April 
weather, flashing from flippant frivolity to appalling passion, 
from laughter to tears, from fierce imperiousness to submission 
as appealing in its tender humility as a little child's. In the 
meantime her beauty glowed to its zenith, vivid with youth and 
vivaciousness, glorious with maturity's consummate touch. Yet 
Joyce was no longer dazzled by it. Her suspicion, her cynical 
assumption that his guilt was a matter of course, had struck a 
note of dissonance whose echoes haunted him, marring the har- 
mony of married life. Blaming her not at all, once his first 
resentment was over, he blamed himself for the flaw in their 
married happiness. Under the broader spiritual instincts of 



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1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. ^37 

Irish Catholic heritage, a single seed of the narrow, morbid, 
yet morally righteous New England conscience struggled. Imo- 
gen had resurrected the memory of his episode with Pearl 
Ripley, and memory brought remorse, — remorse a conviction of 
penalty. Love was failing him, because his soul bore the beast 
mark of moral unworthiness 1 At this crisis his heart turned to 
Ireland. 

" Ireland ? " exclaimed Imogen, when he proposed Dublin 
before they settled in London. " But no one goes to Ireland. 
We shall be taken for Cook's tourists. Of course, later, you 
might shoot in Scotland." ? - 

" I *d rather be shot in Ireland than face my mother if I 
returned without visiting the land of the Joyces! You. are 
half Irish yourself, now, Mrs. Joyce Josselyn ; so come home 
to the isle that 's an honor to you ! " 

So Imogen, in quest of new sensations, did go to Ireland, 
which was a good thing for Joyce, as otherwise the London 
season, through which she propelled him triumphailtly,^ might 
have tempted him to Anglo-Americanism. As a Morris, Imo- 
gen had been presented at Court, and her position in its cir- 
cles was established. Lord Buckingham, at last engaged to an 
American heiress, no longer bore malice to^ Joyce for his 
matrimonial prize, and opened to him the swellest clubs. But 
the feasts that might have dazzled Joyce, now disclosed their 
haunting skeleton; and the charm of English society was not 
what it might have been to him, had not the grandeur, the 
beauty, the pathos of Ireland first made indelible impression 
on his heart ! As the season waned, Wales and the Scottish 
moors were in prospect, when of a sudden Imogen cancelled 
their house-party engagements for no justified reason, and 
whimsically insisted upon immediate return to America. Again 
her heart troubled her with strange pain, sharp fluctuations. 
Marie suggested a crossing to Calais, en route for . Paris and 
the specialist previously consulted. But no ! Imogen knew his 
prescription,^ — " the life simple, the life reposeful ! " She could 
not live it in Europe, — but at home — 

Home! For the first time, the word had a significance for 
Imogen. From the restless-hearted, the hearthstone withholds 
its message, but once the heart is love-poised, whether in. man 
or woman, it throbs in time and tune to the life-song, " Sweet 
Home." Carruthdale's once uncongenial peace and seclusion 



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238 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER, [May, 

now seemed to her devoutly to be desired. Were she really 
on the verge of nervous prostration, as Marie believed, who so 
cognizant of her constitution and temperament, — who at once 
so conscientious as well as skilful, — as Carruthdale's Dr. Cas- 
tleton ? Even the strong, grave face, the resolute voice of her 
cousin Martin, previously dreaded and avoided, seemed to 
haunt her attractively. Strangest of all, she felt a yearning for 
Joyce's hitherto evaded mother. Her memory of the plain, 
worn face presented a womanly strength and repose that 
seemed suddenly her torturing need. Her haughty self-suffi- 
ciency had weakened to a girlish desire for dependence, — not 
upon love like Joyce's, of man for woman, — but deeper, higher, 
finer, of soul upon soul. The significance of the psychological 
change escaped her wholly. But its meaning was not to be 
long a mystery. 

During the calm and balmy return- voyage, a revelation 
to Joyce after the cold and storms of his midwinter initiation, 
he thought long and deeply of both past and future, in a 
mood at once humble and hopeful. In resurrecting his remorse 
for the episode of Pearl Ripley, Imogen had builded better than 
she knew ; for the change of heart passive in him was spurred 
to activity, and though with a man's healthful optimism he 
looked forward rather than back, yet it was on the stepping- 
stone of his dead self that he was inspired to rise to higher 
things. His tide of fortune was proving eventually to have en- 
nobled rather than spoiled him, the spiritual atmosphere of his 
travel in Catholic countries having made their indelible mark 
on his soul. The harmonious contrast, the complemental oppo- 
sites, of Rome's ecclesiastical pomp and the simple faith of 
sacerdotal Ireland, had inspired him to a religious awakening 
more vivid and practical than heretofore : yet it was in the 
human rather than in the spiritual sense, that he realized re- 
generation. The enervation of long idleness and excessive per- 
sonal luxury, had been but transient; and facing readjustment 
to active American life, he thrilled with eager desire to assume 
the more generous responsibilities, the broader duties of life, as 
he had conceived them just as his engagement unexpectedly 
obstructed his new and noble outlook. Selfishly indulgent and 
absorbed in mere pleasure as he had been, Joyce had not for- 
gotten Hans and his class, or his conviction that he was his 
brother's keeper; but had temporized with his ideals, in con- 



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1903.J Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 239 

cession to circumstances which at the time seemed legitimate)y 
his sweet masters. But now, with heaven's illimitable star- 
space uplifting his eyes, and the surge of the. infinite sea be- 
neath him, the claim of the ego vanished like spray before his 
vision of life's vaster grandeur. 

"Imogen, Imogen," he confided in a moment of fervor,^- 
"it has all been so glorious, so brilliant, so wonderful! But 
now, on the home-stretch, my holiday is behind me. I must 
fall into line with men of action, of affairs — " 

Under the overlapping rugs he pressed her hand closely; 
craving for his best instincts the tender inspiration of her 
womanly support. 

" Dear," he said, " it will be a fresh start, and you are 
the one to speed me on it. It takes a woman to keep a man up ! " 

"For to-day and to-morrow, perhaps," she jested; "but 
what woman can boast staying-power?" 

"A wife can," he answered, with new conviction, new reverence. 

And before that answer, Imogen's mocking eyes fell. 

Into the maze of her heart, struggling through its own 
phase of momentous transition, Joyce caught glimpses and 
gleams during that homeward voyage. She was not the same 
Imogen who had sailed as a bride. Loving as well as beloved, 
wifehood had matured her to womanliness. Nothing surprised 
Joyce so redemptively as the discovery that her cynicism was 
but lip-deep, and that her heart, in truth, shrined the simple 
ideals obtaining with humbler women. Now, all too late, he 
saw that the two standards of morals accepted by the world 
were fatal to married happiness; that the truer the love in 
either sex, the less liberal its ethics in the sense of license: 
that the past of his youth made or marred a man's future, the 
slow grinding of the fine wheels of God! 

Before marriage to Joyce, Imogen had not been hurt con- 
sciously by the ways of men of worldly habits of life. Not 
only had Raymond been a man of uncompromising moral in- 
tegrity, so that no shadow of evil laxity ever had touched her, 
but her own spiritualized moral sense had awaited love's quicken- 
ing; and in the spirit of jesting tolerance of youth's wild-oats, 
she had believed sincerely, in marrying Joyce, that she expected 
nothing, and therefore could not be disappointed ! But in the 
hour of wife-love she recognized her cynical sophistry to be a 
vain pretence, a proud falsehood, a delusion of inexperience. 

VOL. LXXVII* — 16 

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240 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [May, 

Her fastidiousness, heretofore of the flesh, now struck to the 
spirit. The callous social veneer of generations was pierced to 
the quick by Love's specific touch of nature. As the wife who 
loved, Imogen the mondaine, the gentlewoman, was simply a 
human woman. Her demands, which upon Raymond had been 
but of class, upon Joyce, by love's grace, were of sex ! 

The irreverence, the profanation, of moral lapse past or 
present, in either husband or wife, was suddenly her conviction. 
Words dropped lightly yet significantly, did not scruple to re- 
proach Joyce, — repulsing his chastened aspirations, questioning 
their sincerity, deriding their fulfilment. Disappointed and irri* 
tated at the result of his appeal to her, he paced the deck, 
when she had left him, in a ferment of feeling. Impotent to 
efface, helpless now to retrieve it, yet he resented passionately 
his: past culpability. " In God's name," he soliloquized, ** why 
did youth stumble ? Why must the innocent suffer for the 
guilty ? Why should even the sinner be dogged for ever by 
the memories of sin outlived and resultless ? " 

" Resultless ? " Ah, self- deceived Joyce! When was ill ever 
barren of aveng^ing fruition? Of all inevitabilities of life, by 
the Divine Law of Justice the most inevitable and relentless 
is, that the wind sows the whirlwind! Resultless, — youth's 
light reverence for love and womanhood? The first digfnity, 
the main responsibility of human lif^ is, that its least thought 
o^ deed is never resultless, — never one, be it good or evil! 

But Imogen's vapors vanished when she found herself at 
Carruthdale. It proved all, even more, than her memory had 
painted it. For the whim of her fancy for it, any more than 
for the hundred other whims swaying her, she did not feign to 
account, though she indulged it exultantly. To Joyce, she 
became again the gay, glowing, superficial Imogen of their 
golden honeymoon: and as gay superficiality is more pleasing 
to the masculine nature than feminine depth that sits in judg- 
ment, he rejoiced at the change, and when authorized by 
Imogen not only to break the ice of their marriage to Father 
Martin, but also to bring his mother back to Carruthdale for a 
lengthy visit, his cup of happiness again seemed full. 

But the excitement of return to Carruthdale under new 
conditions soon died its natural death ; and even as Joyce 
departed for Maintown, all Imogen's depression of mood, her 
familiar distress of heart, returned in increased measure. She 



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1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 24c 

strove vainly to vent her nervous restlessness in divers ways; 
then summoned Marie to drive with her to Dr. Castleton's at 
the close of his afternoon office- hour. Her victoria before the 
Castleton house would suggest to local gossips only a social 
call on the family of Centreville's ex-president; while the doc- 
tor's professional gig* waiting before Carruthdale might start 
such a rumor of illness as was repugnant to Imogen. Her 
resentment of any suggestion of physical disability was morbid. 
To her supersensitive pride, the intimate subject was indelicate, 
distasteful. She counterfeited vigor and vitality on the rare 
occasions when their natural glow escaped her. Only Marie 
knew that Nature sometimes failed ! 

Dr. Castleton's modest office, the extension of an equally 
modest house situated on a middle- class level quite disasso- 
ciated from the Hill of Centreville's fashionable quarter, was in 
striking contrast to the stately residence of the College presi- 
dent; yet the doctor's handsome face indicated glad content, 
nor were signs of increasing prosperity lacking. Conscientious 
<;onviction and its courage are respected even by antagonists; 
and sooner or later their laurels arrive. > 

"Why Mrs. Ray — Josselyn!" he exclaimed, confused for the 
moment by the surprise of her entrance, "we were planning to 
storm Carruthdale only this evening with our belated felicita^ 
tions. ' I trust that you anticipate us for no professional rea- 
son? You are looking remarkably well!" 

Imogen swept to her chair with her most brilliant < i^anner 
in evidence. Yet under her flippancy, — what? ; f •• 

"A woman's looks chronically belie her feelings, doQtor,"..^he 
fenced, lightly. "Translate them, like dreams, by their opposit^sJ j* 

" It is a professional consultation, then ? " The doctor's 
face was now earnest, his ringing tones lowered. "Then Rut^ 
and afternoon-tea ui^st be postponed. The same old heart- 
trouble, Mrs. Josselyn ? " 

"The same old heart-trouble, aggravated by phenomena t 
appeal to your science to explain*" 

" For instance ? " 

Light cynicism, the touch-and-go of social habitude, were 
in the superficial tone, the gay persiflage of her rejoinder. 

" I, the unemotional, am developing emotions, doctor ; moral 
nerves, spiritual sensitiveness, even to the degree of second- 
sight, in so much as I find myself haunted by a prophetic 



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242 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [May, 

dread of some mysterious, yet inevitable and imminent calamity. 
You fail to recognize the description ? What wonder ? Then 
conceive of my own bewilderment, even less able to recognize 
mine own familiar self! I am bored by old loves, and absurdly 
tempted to love just the persons and things intolerably boring 
me of old! For example, from my carpet-knights, my heart 
strains irrationally towards my brusque cousin Martin ; from 
myself, my idieals veer towards the mother of Joyce ! " 

The doctor's eyes, fixed upon her, brightened intelligently. 

" You might bring ^ me worse news, Mrs. Josselyn," he 
assured her. ** Psychologically, your symptoms seem supremely 
favorable ! But just in compliment to that troublesome heart, 
though you have satisfied my faith in its normal condition, 
Marie will prepare you for the stethoscope. By the way, 
though, how about my last prescription, — versus stimulants, 
narcotics, and the social life of the gentlewoman, you remem- 
ber, the nerve- rest of reversion to natural conditions, the real 
life of the unevolved woman ? Have you followed or disre- 
garded it ? Hum ! A little of both, I fancy ! Marie, what 
night-potion has been in recent favor ? " 

"Ah, Monsieur! But Madame will demand the chloral, — " 

" Understand my plain English," he responded with stern- 
ness. " In future, you disregard my interdict at the risk of 
your mistress' life!" 

" Voilh^ Madame, — " began Marie, with an appealing gesture. 

" Then my heart is involved ? " interrupted Imogen, paling. 

" Our lives inevitably involve our hearts, for good or ill." 
The doctor refolded his stethoscope thoughtfully. "Your sys- 
tem of life has been one of extremes, with no medium between 
stimulation and depression. The chloral-habit, as I warned you, 
is a criminal risk, — doubly so, under present conditions." He 
had turned aside to his table, while Marie attended her; but 
now, dismissing the girl to the adjoining waiting-room, he 
caught Imogen's suddenly nervously- clenched hands between 
his palms. 

" I congratulate you, Mrs. Josselyn," he said, in a reverent 
voice. " It is my happiness to announce to you tidings of 
joy. You are to be that woman * blessed among women ' — ^a 
mother." 

Her lack of response did not strike him as strange. He 
spoke on, to cover her natural emotion. 



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«903-] JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. 243 

« 

"I congratulate yo\x from my soul!** he repeated, emphati- 
cally. "The young mother of the leisure- class stands forth an 
eloquent protest against any damnable custom that would wreck 
mankind, soul and body. The social belle, the selfish beauty, 
the heartless genius, what are these to the man's heart, to his 
soul? Man strains to the future, which he attains only in his 
sons ! • Cheated of vital hope, he despairs ; lacking incentive, he 
degenerates. If woman but knew man, — knew her place and 
power ! The ideal, the inspiration of men, good and evil, is the 
pur« young wife- mother's Prototype, — the Madonna, — the Virgin- 
Mother ! " 

Outside, the birds carolled among the trees, and a branch of 
wind-blown foliage rustled against the pane; but within the 
little office, as the doctor ceased speaking, only silence, appalled 
silence reigned. She a mother! Imogen's mind groped wildly, 
blindly, towards realization resistless, yet defied. 

She went white to the lips, and her eyelids fluttered; but 
the physician stood calmly, with his shining eyes on her. If 
she swooned, no material restorative could remedy the spiritual 
defection. Knowing her nature, her temperament, her flippant 
youth, her selfish womanhood, the doctor knew, too, that Imo- 
gen's weakness was not of body. 

"You are awed," he suggested, hoping against hope that 
her silence was holy. "The annunciation brings with it the 
vision of the greater mystery, the incarnation of an Immortal 
soul. We men cannot share it, but we revere and - serve it. 
That shall be my sacred part towards you ! " 

Silence still, with a difference : — gasping, struggling silence, 
painfully straining for protesting speech. ( 

The doctor's glad face darkened to sternness, eveh to 
spiritual sadness. That a wife should rebel against her immor- 
tal mission, seemed to him the sin crying for vengeance. 

He left her side, and seating himself by the window, watched 
the birds as they flew towards their hidden nests. Their little 
throats swelled with their vesper-songs. It was sunset. God's 
good day was over. 

Imogen forced herself to her feet, one hand clutching her 
throat, one groping for the support of the leather chair- back. 
Her lips were regaining a hint of color j but in her eyes was 
a shrinking fear of her destiny. 

" A mother ? " she gasped. Of all his words, only these 



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344 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [May, 

ft 

two had impressed her, signified to her» remained with her. 
They were shrieking in her ears, written in fire before her sight, 
rending her terrified heart with menace. " A mother ? — I could 
not! O doctor, I could not! Not I! Not I! No, no, no!" 

As she cowered in shuddering helplessness, it seemed to 
her that his stem words crashed like bolts of thunder. 

" You cannot be a mother, you^'' he reproached her. "You 
with youth, you with health, you, immune by your wealth 
from the strain and stress of the battle for bread, complicating 
the maternal mission for other wives and mothers? Think of 
your sisters the toilers, up from dawn until midnight, laboring 
strenuously, ceaselessly, poorly housed, sparsely fed, yet who 
are the nation's msikers, — its heroic mothers ! Mrs. Josselyn, 
when these and you meet face to face at the judgment, what 
extenuating circumstance can your childlessness plead ? " 

She was aroused at last. Her conviction was ineradicable. 
She was the last of generations of " only children," the blighted 
aftermath of an extinct line. 

''Your profession confuses the woman with the gentlewo- 
nan," she resented, haughtily. "The higher type has evolved 
from the physical phase to the intellectual, the social — " 

" My God ! " The doctor's irresistible adjuration interrupted 
her. " Feminine science and log^ic assert, then, that evolution 
serves extinction ? Why, Mrs. Josselyn, it is upon motherhood 
under conditions like yours, — upon the propagation of the finer 
species apace of the ruder, that the progress, the survival, the 
salvation of humanity depends ! Shall realism be perpetuated, 
and idealism have no transmitters ? Are the beauty and har- 
mony of the aesthetic life, with its music, its color, its symme- 
try. Its intellectual dignity and spiritual aspiration, all to serve 
only your puny individual existence, to die with you, for no 
divine or human end ? What is the justification of your exist- 
ence as an untoiling human lily arrayed in glory, if it has no 
immortal issue? Shirk maternity, you who are wives, and you 
profane even your own pride and purity ! What save the spirit 
of motherhood justifies your marriage, your second marriage? 
Mrs. Josselyn, think, think, think ! " 

" Let me go," she said, rising. She was in anger, in despair. 

But* his imperative gesture detained her. There were words 
still to speak. 

" Let me remind you," he said, more gently, " that already 



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1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. . 245 

you have realized the miracle^ of good and nobility that are 
worked in the mother-soul ! But the maternal influence upon 
the unborn, is still a subtler miracle ; and I warn you that you 
are exerting it, now. Will you add the beauty of goodness, or 
the ugliness of evil to this poor earth of ours ? Will you mother 
a saint, a hero, a genius, a glorious man or woman who will 
better the world on the way to heaven, or a life warped and 
malformed, soul and heart, mind and body, to blight itself and 
others, to all eternity? It is now that you must make your 
immortal choice, and for God's love, and . man's, make it woman- 
fuUy ! Prove your worthiness of your state in life, by its 
maternal consecration ! Fix every glance, every thought, every 
dream, every desire, to the divine phases of life, to the good, 
the grand, the beautiful, suffering nothing beneath the highest 
to profane the peace and purity of the angel whose wings are 
shadowing you ! God spare you the remorse of unworthy 
motherhood ! Of all the tragedies of life none is so sad, so 
terrible, in its immortal penalty. But it steals upon no woman 
unawares! Choice of the pure and perfect maternal spirit is 
the birthright of Mary's daughters. Choose it, Mrs. Josselyn, 
and make the world, unto all generations, your debtor ! " 

She departed abruptly, staggering blindly towards the car- 
riage. The doctor followed with Marie, giving low-voiced direc- 
tions. "I shall send my wife to you," were his parting words 
to Imogen. But if she heard, she did not heed him. '' Home/' 
she said to the footman; then leaned silently back, with closed 
eyes. 

** A tea-gown, — and then leave me," she gasped to Marie, 
upon reaching Carruthdale. Then, with feverish impatience, she 
tore off hat and coat, gloves and shoes, skirt and bodice. '' O 
Madame ! " vainly protested Marie, as the costly toilette was 
Sung aside in reckless disorder. " Let me bring but a cup of 
tea—" 

'' No, no tea ! No dinner ! At home to no one," she 
negatived, incoherently: then flung herself full-length upon her 
couch. 

Thoughts new, vital, conflicting, were whirling, seething 
within her brain, her soul. So it was the sanctity of mother- 
hood that had inspired her revolt from the suspicion, the con- 
viction that Joyce had sinned in the past; her response to 
such high precepts as Martin preached and practised; her at- 



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246 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [May^ 

traction towards the godly soul, the woman-heart of Joyce's 
simple and humble mother ! A faint conception, a dim realiza- 
tion of the beauty, the exaltation, the immortal dignity of 
woman-life in its fulness, flashed upon her; — of the spirituality 
of human maternity, since it had touched even her callous 
soul, her untender heart, to bitter-sweet divine unrest ! 

But the merciful apocalypse was a grace resisted. Her 
life's ruling passion of selfishness ^ reasserted itself, and the 
glimmer of soul-light wherein lay redemption was deliberately 
extinguished. With renewed and intensified impiety and bit- 
terness, she rebelled against the ordeal before her. Her fas- 
tidious distaste for the realities of human life in the physical 
order, her vanity, which had made an idol of her own health 
and beauty, her morbid shrinking from the least hint of per- 
sonal pain or suffering, her dread, the inevitable dread of 
the worldling, of death, all impelled her to resent the peril of 
maternity, to despair in the face of life's most beautiful hope \ 
She crouched shuddering, realizing her own impotence to 
evade the fiat of life that had been breathed forth by the 
Omnipotent Creator! Tremors of helpless terror thrilled her 
from head to foot! She struck her temples with her clenched 
hands, and sobbed tearlessly, wildly. For the first time, Imo- 
gen faced real life. 

" Mrs. Josselyn / Oh^ my dear girl Imogen / " 

Sunset had faded to dark, darkness to night, when the soft 
utterance of her name broke upon her reverie. Rising hastily, 
she turned on the lights with impatient hand, and stood frown- 
ing, with no word of welcome. But Mrs. Castleton, — the doc- 
tor's Ruth — was not dismayed by lack of greeting. She was a 
woman, — a mother. She knew! 

'' Blame me alone for my intrusion," she begged, as Imo- 
gen glanced angrily past her. "Marie did her utmost to pre- 
vent my entrance; but I took the liberty of a friend, of a 
woman. Ah, we women ! What anguish, what joy comes in 
turn to us all ! And our hearts could spare neither one ! " 

"Not spare anguish? //" 

" Neither you nor another ! The life ignorant of pain is 
incomplete and unperfected. You would choose > life's full 
measure, were the choice your privilege. The key to all hearts 
is in it, and the soul's own vitality. My experience has its 
message for you — " 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner, 247 

"What message can help me in this terrible hour?" Imo- 
gen flung herself down again, in passionate abandon. "Life 
and love as they were, contented, fulfilled me ! For the first 
time I had 'found myself,' I was happy." 

"With a happiness that but presaged this greater glory. 
You poor child, you have never lived, never loved, as life and 
love will be revealed to you. Why, Imogen, motherhood thrills 
and throbs with the pulse of the universe. Your heart will 
span all earth, all heaven ! " 

"Oh, your husband has rhapsodized — " 

" My husband's words were a man's words, and could not 
reach you. Does he know the sacred communion, soul to 
soul, of mother and child ? Can he feel the love born of an- 
guish forgotten, and peril survived ? Are the baby-lips pressed 
on his heart, for their life-draught ? Are the little hands, the 
little form, day and night on his breast ? No man on earth 
can talk woman's heart-lore, — baby-talk! It is the tenderness, 
the appeal of it, that must touch you, reconcile you." 

Over Imogen's bowed head and huddled form her caressing 
hands wandered. 

" Egoism against motherhood ? " she smiled. " Why, Imo- 
gen, regarded even in the selfish sense, in maternity is the 
triumph of womanhood, its supremacy! God, man, the world, 
the nation, our generation, all have vital need of us, — of us, 
most of all, of the higher talents. They are ours in trust, to 
make the world a Hou^e Beautiful. Shall you not do your lit- 
Ue part?" 

" / care nothing for the world ! " 

"But you care for yourself ! You care for thrones and their 
power, for the conquest of new kingdoms; and they are yours 
by grace only of the little hands in the cradle! You care for 
the beauty of youth, — there is immortality in motherhood ! 
You care for love, — only the mother- life retains it vitally and 
invincibly ! You care for honor, — all men wait with their filial 
homage ! You care for life ; the barren life is the butterfly of 
a single summer, — the maternal life, the phoenix that knows no 
death ! " 

Turning back for one wistful glance at Imogen's recumbent 
figure, Ruth Castleton, as she closed the door, thought her 
passivity not a hopeless sign. Passion had spent itself. Futile 
resistance was over. Resignation would come in due time. 



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248 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [May, 

- And she was right, for the hour. Her woman-words had 
not been fruitless; yet Imogen's battle began again, as self re- 
newed its familiar plea. In frenzied dread of her wearying 
mental conflict, she rang sharply for Marie. 

"Brush my hair, — ^prepare me for bed, — anything, — " she 
said, taking her seat before her dressing-room mirror, in des- 
perate desire of distraction. 

" But Madame will permit me to bring her some dinner ? " 

Her petulant answer was to loosen her wealth of hair. As 
it rippled about her in glossy waves, she gazed at her fair re- 
flection with intense eyes. The sight of her beauty aroused 
the worst in her. To risk it, to mar or seclude it even tran- 
sitorily, once more seemed a tragic injustice, an impossibility. 
To serve her own youth, her own health, her own personal 
comfort and worldly experience, — was not this her first right, 
her chief privilege, despite the sentiment and cant of conven- 
tional moralists ? Her iself-love cried out against the sacrifice 
demanded of her, as an immolation of beauty, a profanation of 
temperament, a gross and intolerable torture levied upon phy- 
sical sensitiveness and delicacy ; a degradation of the rare to 
the plane of the commonplace, an unjustified holocaust of the 
fine human exception upon the stone of the natural rule. 

Even as she was resenting her position most bitterly and 
evilly, wheels whirled up the road, and the main door opened 
and shut. In another moment, with a resounding knock, the 
door of her room was flung open, and Joyce made his jubilant 
entry. On the threshold of the dressing-room, he stopped 
short to bow roguishly to the eyes meeting his in the mirror/ 

''Dressing for dinner? That's all right," he rejoiced, in 
his happy ignorance. " I 'm as hungry as a hunter, and half 
hoped you 'd hang on for me ! * Sweet Home,' when it is 
Carruthdale with Queen Imogen in it, beats even my native 
Maintown all to pieces! Well, I saw Father Martin, saw 
mother, saw the dear old man, but the first train back to you 
wasn't any too quick for me! Mother's coming next week, 
and Father Martin's all right. Now, haven't you — something 
—for a fellow ? " 

"Leave me," she panted. 

'' O pshaw ! " he persisted. '' Marie does n't count. It 's a 
holy example for her to see married lovers ! " He stepped 
forward, playfully clasping his hands on her shoulders. Then 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 249 

the white face reflected, its rigid lips, its burning eyes, at last 
attracted his astounded attention. 

" I say, what 's the matter ? " he exclaimed in dismay. 

" Leave me ! " 

From the moment her eyes had fallen upon his exultant 
face, his joyous smile, the cruelty latent in Imogen had quick- 
ened to life. Bitterly, pitilessly, she felt that she hated him. 
He could go his man's way, vigorous, handsome, irresponsible: 
while she — oh, the maddening difference! 

She had not turned her face, but its flashing anger, her 
tense posture, were mirrored vividly. Surprised and appalled, 
he drew back in uncertainty. To remain against her will, 
seemed a brutal selfishness; yet to leave her, his wife, like 
this, — 

** Mais Madame is not well," explained Marie, pitifully. 
*'If Monsieur will but see Dr. Castleton — " 

" Dr. Castleton ? Then the doctor has been called in, in 
my absence? Why, Imogen, I never knew you to be ill be- 
fore ! What 18 it, you poor little woman ? " 

" Leave me ! " 

" But—" 

" If Monsieur would but permit Madame to become com- 
posed," entreated Marie. 

He yielded perforce, perplexed, hurt, vaguely anxious; yet 
in resentful temper determining to postpone his call upon Dr. 
Castleton until he had dined. He had returned to Imogen 
with such hot-hearted eagerness; and her reception was cer- 
tainly a repelling welcome ! He doubted the seriousness of 
illness that was capable of tantrums. Like a sulky boy, he sat 
pouting and proudly stubborn, deliberately lingering over his 
nuts and wine. 

Imogen, in the meantime, had dismissed Joyce from her 
thoughts, consumed only by the feverishly fierce desire to find 
oblivion in sleep. 

** My chloral," she demanded, as the last touch to her dainty 
night-toilette was given. 

'' Ah, but Madame, it is impossible ! Monsieur le docteur 
has said — " 

" My chloral, I say, Marie. One dose, more or less, cannot 
matter." 

'' Pardon, Madame, but I cannot ! " 



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250 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner, [May, 

" You presume to oppose me, to disobey me ? Stand aside ! 
I can serve myself." 

The little medicine-cabinet was all too convenient, the vial 
containing her dream-draught all too familiar to her. In an 
instant she had turned out the liquid with angrily reckless hand, 
draining the glass even as Marie reached for it. 

" But Madame has trebled her dose," the girl cried, wring- 
ing her hands. " And the doctor said it would risk Madame's 
life." 

** The doctor is an old fogy ! What ill has my night- 
draught ever done me? Now you may go, and say to Mn 
Josselyn that on no account am I to be disturbed again to- 
night ! " 

"Ah, Madame ! But I have the anxiety ! May I not stay — " 

"No, I wish perfect solitude. Turn oflF the lights, and 
screen my eyes from the flicker of the lamp. Give me dark- 
ness and sleep, sleep — " 

Her white eyelids fluttered, their long lashes falling like 
curled fringe, as shfe spoke. Her cheek nestled against the 
pillow like a tired child's. Something in the relaxed pose, the 
wearied expression, the young, dainty yet subtly blighted beauty 
of the proud, passionate, newly pathetic face, touched Marie 
strangely. Her tears gathered and fell as she gazed upon it. 

" The good God bless poor Madame ! " she murmured, in the 
tongue sweetly lending itself to gentle devotion. 

" Poor ? " Beautiful, beloved, fortune-favored Imogen 
" poor " ? The maid did not know why she pitied her mistress. 
Yet the yearning of a mother for a suffering child, of a spiritual 
father for a prodigal soul, the prayer of the devout for the im- 
perilled sinner, was the inspiration of her Catholic heart. 

The soft jar of the door as Marie reluctantly went out 
recalled Imogen from the lotos- land towards which she was 
drifting. As her head tossed on its pillow, her eyes flashed 
open, recognizing every feature of the familiar room ; and the 
day's dread revelation, for one instant forgotten, recurred vividly 
in all its agony. She sat up nervously, staring about her 
with hopeless eyes. Conviction of the inevitability of her fate, 
the awful loneliness of it, was upon her. Trembling and 
crouching, she hid her face like a frightened child. Responsi- 
bility was so new to her, so appalling, so terrible. 

Yet an influx of gentler thoughts calmed her piteous fear. 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 251 

God's grace, struggling within her, made human memories its 
instruments. Dr. Castleton, good and strong man ; Ruth, brave 
and sweet woman; what had they said Jo her? Suppose they 
were right, and she in the wrong ? Why not take their words 
on trust, such words as alone could give her strength and 
comfort? After all, maternity was natural; and only the arti- 
ficial stands in fear of Nature. But back of Nature, — what ? 
Unconsciously, Imogen groped for the Eternal Cause, the 
divine behind the human, the Omnific behind universal crea- 
tion. Towards the spiritual, and therefore conscientious asso- 
ciations of her life, she strained as instinctively as a startled 
bird seeks a place of safety. Raymond! what had it been in 
him, inspiring moral integrity, unworldly, unselfish, reproach- 
less worth ? Martin, — consistent, courageous cousin Martin, 
what was his stronghold, his bulwark ? Then the memory of 
Joyce's mother, in her crude, simple womanliness, her wifely 
fidelity, her maternal passion, challenged her. With a new, 
sweet content, she leaned upon the knowledge that Joyce's 
mother was coming to her — Joyce's mother, who was now her 
own mother! Here was a refuge, a tower of strength, even 
possibly a souroe of revelation for her weaker, more worldly 
and selfish soul. What ideal, what inspiration was common to 
all these ? God ! What was their standard of life ? The gos- 
pels of Christianity^ selfless, abnegative, charitable, penitential, 
adoring the Creator, serving His creatures! Her fugitive 
thoughts flashed to Stephen, to Mam'selle, to Gladys ! The 
same answer, one and the same ! The coincidence impressed 
her. Had she missed life's great secret ? Was love leading her 
to it ? Could it be that reconciliation to self-sacrifice, even its 
recompense, its sweet happiness, was hidden somewhere, for 
her, even her, still to find ? 

But a languor was dulling her new-born soul-thoughts, a 
stupor confusing her grasp of her problems. This physical 
numbness, this sense of powerlessness, of passivity, a sense 
acute even to pain, what was it? — stealing over her stilly, 
deeply, as a submerging wave. She was drifting away from all 
thought, all consciousness; she was sinking down, down into 
silence, darkness. Her heart-beats, her breath, were quivering, 
lagging. Oh, the painless agony, the undefined dread, the in- 
active resistance! The weight of the world was crushing her, 
benumbing her, pressing her down — down — down — 



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252 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [May, 

Over her torpor swept a sudden chill, a heart-chill of de- 
spairing because impotent terror. In slips and snatches of 
rational thought, she remembered her dream- draught, and 
realized that its effects in excess were upgn her. Not akin to 
the sweet peace and restful oblivion, the soft rocking to slumber 
which had been its result on other nights, was to-night's numb 
distress, still unrest, pulseless heart- quake! Terrible as the holy 
mystery of maternity had seemed to her, here was an unholy 
mystery far more terrible still ! 

She struggled to rise, but fell back limply. No longer 
would her body, her beautiful, pampered body, obey her. The 
hour of its triumph, or was it of its defeat, — had arrived ! In 
protest, her eyes quivered open momentarily. " Raymond ! " 
she moaned. Not to Joyce; young and weak, albeit to him she 
had given her earth- love, — but to the stronger, purer, more 
selfless yet unloved lover, in this soul-hour, her vague thought 
turned. But even as the vision of Raymond consoled her, her 
blurred eyes lost it. Light slowly left them. Their lids drooped 
heavily. She could not lift them. Yet the sight of soul re- 
mained. 

Past Raymond, it strained to her cousin Martin, the con* 
secrated, the anointed Martin, the living priest. The soul in 
agony, the bed of death — unto these was his niinistry. She, 
the g^rl who had loved him, now in womanhood needed him. 
Her parched lips stirred faintly — " Martin / Martin / " 

Joyce opened the door, and entered noiselessly. He would 
not arouse her from sleep, but oh, he must see her! The 
reverence, the tenderness, the exultation of the prophecy of 
fatherhood were on his young face. The soul- words of the 
doctor had inspired, exalted him. He would make himself 
worthy of this fair woman's love, of her sacrifice, of her sweet 
penalty, as his wife. 

His wife ! Never before had Joyce realized fully the sacred 
wifehood of Imogen. Heretofore she had been to him but his 
royally gracious coquette, his wilful beauty and belle, his 
despotic liege- lady of April moods, appealing to his flattered 
vanity and romantic passion, rather than to his human heart. 
But now, as the wife of his love, she was transfigured from 
mere woman to angel incarnate. How had he dared to love 
her lightly, to serve her heedlessly, to play the master with 
her, he, now on his knees before the beautiful miracle of her 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 253 

womanhood ? Manhood, the true manhood of morals and mind, 
was bom within Joyce in that moment of reverence. His tears 
fell on her hand as he kissed its white beauty, such tears as 
are the hyssop of men's hearts. 

As she stirred, the dim lamp-light made her face palely 
lustrous. Joyce felt that he looked on the wife-soul, the spirit. 
" Imogen ! " he called. " Imogen ! " But Marie stole in to 
silence him. He submitted. Was not Marie a woman ? 

But his tears, his voice, had reached Imogen, far away as 
she had drifted. The last thought of her consciousness was 
taken up at its stoppiAg-place. 

" Martin ! " she murmured. And again, more clearly, " Mar- 
tin ! " 

Then she sank back into silent sleep. 

"It is the dreamful sleep of the chloral. Monsieur," ex- 
plained Marie. "It would not be well, not well at all, to 
waken hert" 

So Joyce resigned Imogen to her dream of Father Martin, 
the drugged dream, too deep not to exhaust her hearty the 
restless heart, the passionate heart, always at extremes, spurred 
to the artificial pace that may be subdued abnormally, but 
which defies the rebound to nature's rhythmical measjire; the 
heart tired even in its youth, and weak from stress not of vital 
action, but of the fevered discontent of the inaction of life, 
unreal, unearnest, — this poor heart throbbed more slowly, more 
softly. 

" Martin ! " she faltered, as the death-angel neared her. 

It was Imogen's piteous plea for her soul. 

''Martin! Martin!'' 

Did the death-cry penetrate even to the Maintown rectory, 
to the sensitive spirit of Father Martin, that he was at Car- 
ruthdale next morning, even by Joyce's side, as in his first 
shock he gazed stonily at the beautiful dead, over whom 
Marie was weeping and praying passionately ? 

Upon an impulse of inspiration as he left Dr. Castleton, 
Joyce had telegraphed to Father Martin that Imogen needed 
him; and some mysterious power had coerced the priest to 
obey the message within the hour, though every argument of 
personal expedience was in favor of delaying until morning. 

''Martin, Martin!'' 



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254 Joyce Josseyln, Sinner. [May, 

It was Imogen's soul- cry to Christ, through His Alter Chris- 
tus. In the last hour of her blinded, mistaken, wasted life, she 
had strained towards the divine in so far as she knew It. 
The man of God is the human mile-stone on the road to 
heaven; and if the mortal Imogen fell by the wall even as 
she reached him, who shall say that her immortal soul pressed 
not on? 

Was the cry still audible in the death-room, that Father 
Martin, rigid in principle, stern in conviction, high and uncom- 
promising of spiritual ideal though he was, could not mourn for 
Imogen's sudden and apparently unprovided death, as one who 
had no hope? 

" But it is not only one death," raved Joyce. " The two 
deaths are my judgment. It is a case of the innocent suffering 
for the guilty ! — I was not worthy to have a son ! " 

Father Martin looked at the son of his heart, and under- 
stood; and never again were his brave eyes unsaddened. Not 
the dead, but the living, was his priestly soul's burden, living 
youth, living manhood, that do evil so lightly, so heedlessly, 
not foreseeing the heart's penalty, the soul's doom. 

" Come with me, Joyce," he said. But his voice broke as 
he said it. Ah ! if he had but kept Joyce with him — never let 
him go ! The fallen angel still is Lucifer, but his light has lost 
beauty. Father Martin, still loving, with as great a love as man ^ 
hath, Joyce the man who had sinned, — no less mourned his 
white-souled boy of the rectory. 

So Imogen's death proved the life-seed of Joyce's spiritual 
regeneration; for confession shrives the past, and chastens the 
future, — sacramental confession, and the Christ- Cup that follows 
it! These were what Imogen's death meant for Joyce. 

And for Imogen, what ? Who can know, yet who can doubt ? 
When was Christ aught but pitiful, forgiving, indulgent of woman ? 
From Mary, even to Magdalen; from Elizabeth in her age to 
the woman taken in sin ; from Veronica, whose tender service 
was rewarded by the abiding Vision, to the women whose tears 
of sympathy were bidden "Weep not for Me," — no woman, 
saint or sinner, but has found Christ her Saviour ! 

Shall Imogen not find mercy with Him ? 

End of Part III. 



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5CF ^e^ lt)iew8 anb IReviews, <i ^cf 



1 — At the time of Mr. Myers' death, in January, 1901, 
most of the matter contained in these two bulky volumes • was 
either in print or ready for print. The object of the work is 
to apply the method of modern science to the problem of the 
destiny of the human soul. This problem he says is the most 
important that can be considered by any man, and still no one 
has attempted to apply to it the method of the natural sciences. 
With this in view Mr. Myers attempted to institute an " inquiry 
resting primarily, as all scientific inquiries in the stricter sense now 
must rest, upon objective facts actually observable, upon experi- 
ments which we can repeat to-day, and which we may hope to 
carry further to-morrow. It must be an inquiry based, to use an old 
term, on the uniformitarian hypothesis ; on the presumption, 
that is to say, that if a spiritual world exists^ and if that 
world has at any epoch been manifest^ or even discoverable^ then 
it ought to be manifest or discoverable now** (vol i. p. 7). 

Before outlining the steps of this inquiry it will be well to 
call attention to a distinction which must be clearly understood 
if any intelligent view of Mr. Myers' work is to be obtained. 
This is the distinction between the subliminal and supraliminal 
consciousness. By the supraliminal consciousness he means that 
stream of conscious processes which is continually flowing through 
the mind. By the subliminal consciousness he understands all 
those processes which lie below the threshold of perception. 
The term, as applied to sensations too feeble to be recognized, 
is a familiar one in psychology, but the subliminal conscious- 
ness of Mr. Myers is much more extensive. He would relegate 
to the subliminal consciousness, or subliminal self, ''sensations, 
thoughts, emotions which may be strong, definite, and inde- 
pendent, but which by the original constitution of our being 
seldom emerge into that supraliminal current of consciousness 
which we habitually identify with ourselves** (vol. i. p. 14). 
Our present consciousness is but one manifestation of our per- 
sonality. Beneath the present threshold of our conscious life 
there is another complex personality which may manifest itself 

* Human PenonalUy and Its Survival of Bodily Death. Frederic W. H. Myers. New 
York, London, and Bombay : Longmans. Green & Co. Two vols. 

VOL. LXXVII. — 17 

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256 Views and Reviews. [May, 

under various conditions as a veritable demon, a genius, or a 
saint. 

The order of procedure Is from facts generally admitted to 
be natural to those held as supernormal. The inquiry com- 
mences with a chapter on Disintegrations of Personality ^ which . 
treats of cases of hysteria, secondary personality, demon pos- 
session, etc. In hysterics we have examples of the disappearance 
of faculties in the subliminal consciousness which should be 
subject to voluntary control. Hysterics stand in relation to 
ordinaj-y men as the latter do to possible future men in whom 
powers now existing in the ordinary subliminal self will be nor- 
mally above the threshold of consciousness. Passing oh from the 
consideration of abnormally defective men, the author takes up 
the study of genius. An inspiration of genius is looked upon 
as a subliminal'Uprush, A man of genius is one in whom the 
connections between his supraliminal consciousness and his sub- 
liminal better self are easily made. In the next chapter Mr. 
Myers deals with " the alternating phase through which man's 
personality is constructed habitually to pass," viz., sleep. Not 
only is it a state in which the bodily organism finds rest, but 
it is also a stage of ** wider potentiality," where faculties which 
form man's link with the spiritual world make their rudimen- 
tary appearance. The next chapter is on hypnotism. After 
tracing out the connection of this with the previous chapter a 
brief but incomplete account of the history of hypnotism is 
given, and many examples of cures being effected by hypnotic 
suggestion are recorded. The last chapter of the first volume 
is on Sensory Automatism. Hallucinations, telepathy, appari- 
tions of the living are studied in the hope of throwing some 
light on man's subliminal powers. 

While the first volume deals with the actions and perceptions 
of spirits still in the flesh, the second considers for the most 
part the relations which may exist between the living and the 
dead. Many cases are brought forward of supposed apparitions 
of the dead in chapter seven, on Phantasms of the Dead. 
Having reached this stage of the argument, Mr. Myers casts a 
backward glance upon his work, and considers that in the first 
volume he proved the existence of a subliminal self, nobler and 
more perfect than the conscious self: that telepathic messages 
could be sent from mind to mind of living persons; and that 
death did not put a stop to the despatch of such messages ; 



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I90i.] VIEWS AND REVIEWS. 2S7 

and therefore human persons do survive bodily death. The two 
following chapters, on Motor Automatism, and on Trance, 
Possession, and Ecstasy, were no doubt intended to confirm the 
argument just outlined, by showing how a disembodied spirit 
can have control over an organism inhabited by a living spirit 
When we survey the task of Mr. Myers as a completed whole 
and ask, has he fulfilled the end with which he started out ? has 
he applied the method of modern science to the problem of 
immortality ? we must confess that Newton would scarcely recog- 
nize in the present work the method which he used in his 
Principia, To argue from facts is not all that is necessary in the 
method of natural science. Our elaboration of the data afforded 
by facts may be metaphysical or experimental, and Mr. Myers 
has been more prone to make use of the former. Those whe 
can in general agree with his interpretation of the facts will be 
obliged to admit the conclusion that the human soul is immortal. 
But the interpretation he has given is not beyond all question. 
Perhaps the time will come when the phantasms' of the dead will 
be subjected to the test of experiment. But until then the 
problem of immortality is likely to remain in the domain of 
metaphysics rather than be transferred to natural science. 

2. — The latest study in the religion of the Semitic peoples* 
comes to us recommended no less by the timeliness and lasting 
importance of the subject itself than by the reputation of its 
distinguished author, P^re Lagrange, the director of the schooi 
of St. Stephen at Jierusalem, and editor of the Revue Biblique^ 
who is a scholar of the highest critical attainments. His is one 
of the names that have brought lustre to Catholic science in 
these latter times, and proved that the ancient church still has 
sons who wear well the mantle of her tnagistri et doctores of 
times long gone by. As to the subject treated of in this 
masterly volume, its importance can hardly be too forcibly 
stated. The recent discoveries in Babylonia, Phoenicia, Persia, 
and Egypt have laid before us whole treasuries of information 
as to the religious and social life of peoples either kindred or 
contiguous to Israel. Better than ever before we know the 
environment of the chosen people. We can tell the influences 
surrounding the inspired writers, the ideas prevalent in Babylonia 

^ £,tudes sur Us Religions Simitiquet. Par le P. Lagrange, des Frferes Pr^cheurs. 
Paris : LJbrairie Victor Lecoflfre. 



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258 Views and Reviews. [May, 

when the Beni-Israel moved past the Assyrian cities toward 
the promised land, the religion and the politics current in 
Egypt when the Hebrew strangers sweated in their slavery, the 
change that had occurred when once again the sons of Jehovah 
were dragged as exiles back to the cradle of their race — and 
out of all this information we have reconstructed many of our 
notions respecting ancient Jewish history. And what is still 
m:>re wonderful, it is coming to be recognized now that not 
only can we not understand the Old Testament without a 
thorough grasp on Semitic history, and especially Semitic 
religious history, but even certain aspects of the New Testament 
will be hidden from us if we are ignorant of how Nineveh, 
Harran, Ur, and Babylon wrote and thought and worshipped. 
In one word P^re Lagrange's volume is indispensable to any 
one who wants to have any modern and scientific knowledge of 
Scripture. He has an exhaustive chapter on the origin of the 
Semites, and another on the nature of religion and mythology. 
Then follow studies in Babylonian and Phoenician myths, the 
Semitic ideas of gods and goddesses, of lustration and consecra- 
tion, of divination, sacrifice, and eschatolog^y. We should remark 
in conclusion that this volume is exclusively a scientific exposi- 
tion of fact. It has no apologetic preoccupation whatever. 

3. — ^We have taken occasion in previous issues of this 
magazine to bespeak a welcome among our student- readers for 
the philosophical series now appearing from the house of Alcon 
under the editorship of the Abb^ Piat. The volume* under 
review calls for a new commendation of this series. It is a 
study, at once historical and philosophical, of the Arabic 
philosopher and mystic Gazali, who has exercised so profound 
an influence on the intellectual development of Islam. The 
work complements the volume on Avicenna, written by the 
same celebrated Arabic scholar, the Baron Carra de Vaux. Few 
studies in the history of philosophy are more important and 
full of interest than that which discloses to us how the thought 
and speculation of Greece penetrated the Mohammedan mind, 
received there a hundred modifications, and issued, as a new 
school of philosophy, in the productions of independent thinkers 
like Avicenna and Gazali. Gazali was a moral, even a mystical 
philosopher, par excellence. The ideal of moral beauty was the 

• Gazali, Par le Baron Carra de Vaux. Paris : Fdlix Alcon. 1902. 



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1903.] Views and Reviews, 259 

end toward which he built up his entire structure of speculation 
— God as the destiny of the soul, conformity to God's will as 
the nobility of the soul, God mystically speaking to, acting upon, 
and abiding in the soul as humanity's highest earthly possibility 
and privilege — these are the basic id^sas of this pure and pro^ 
found scholar of Islam. What influence he wielded during his 
life and still exercises even to-day, this volume tells us in many 
an attractive page. The author is to be felicitated on his 
noble study. 

4. — Pere Paulot's volume • is worthy of its great theme. It 
is a vivid, a sympathetic, and a fairly thorough history of the 
immortal Pontiff who proclaimed the first Crusade. Urban is a 
noble figure as he stands before the Council of Clermont, and 
speaks the word which is to fling the chivalry of Europe against 
the hosts of Mohammed in the East. Never before in history, 
probably, was one man's power so signally displayed. For it 
must be remembered, the head of the Holy Roman Empire 
was then in arms against the Pope, was supporting an anti- 
pope, was excommunicated and his kingdom, was under interdict 
The King of France was also an excommunicate; and in 
England Anselm of Canterbury was in conflict with William 
Rufus. Surely the po.wers of this world were never more 
directly opposed to the Papacy than then. Yet amid such con- 
ditions, the successor of St. Peter spoke for the honor of the 
Holy Sepulchre, and multitudes without number asked his 
blessing as they took the cross. Pere Paulot does justice to the 
historic scene at Clermont. It is the part of his volume where 
he best displays his gift of picturesque expression, and exhibits 
his warmest admiration for his countryman, Pope Urban. 

Urban's contest with the Emperor Henry, his exiles and his 
wanderings, and his conscientious efforts to eradicate simony 
and to promote purity of clerical living, are described at length 
from authentic and honest sources. At the end of the volume, 
however,. Pere Paulot puts an appendix regarding Urban's 
celebrated letter to Geoffrey of Lucques on the treatment of 
those who kill excommunicates, because ** zelo Catholicce matris 
ardenteSf** in which appendix our author gives one explanation 
which is just, and another which is not borne out by history. 
He is right in saying that the whole context of the passage, 

■ Urbain IL Par Lucian Paulot. Paris : Librairie Victor Lecoflfre. 



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26q Views and Reviews. [May, 

as -well as the historical cadre into which it fits, forbid us to 
interpt;et, Urban's words as a condonation of homicide. But his 
parallel drawn from Pius VII.'s bull against Napoleon w.ill not 
hold. His position is that some powers exercised by the popes 
in mediaeval times do not* inhere in the Papal office, but grew 
out of a politico-ecclesiastical system which has passed away. 
So have thought, and do think, a good many Catholics. But 
this is a position evidently condemned by the popes themselves. 
JWiti^ess Gregory XVI.'s condemnation of the Belgian constitu- 
tion, and his bull against the Poles in their struggle against 
Russia; and witness the positions affirmed so often in the reign 
of Pius IX., and summarized into the Syllabus. 

' 6. — In a brochure • of less than fifty pages M. Bouvier un- 
dertakes^ a ' refutation of M. Loisy's latest celebrated book, 
L 6vangile et r£glise. Naturally so summary a treatment of 
the work of a great scholar, perhaps the greatest now living 
among Scripture students, is very unsatisfactory. M. Loisy's 
position can be understood only after wide reading and patient 
reflection, and can be refuted only by an extent of erudition 
and a keenness of criticism which M. Bouvier conspicuously 
does not possess. Indeed, he makes no pretence of possessing 
them. 

6. — Father Fischer's workf will bring delight to every 
scholar that reads it. Everything about the book suggests the 
trained investigator, the scientific student. The learned notes, 
the erudite appendices, and the invaluable bibliography dis- 
close a rare j>ower indeed in the pen that traced these pages. 
The volume comprises a two-fold history, that of the Norse 
voyagers who sailed the seas about Greenland and Labrador in 
the late tenth and early eleventh century, and that of the 
Christian settlements in Greenland down to their practical dis- 
appearance towards the beginning of the sixteenth century. 
Lief, the son of Eric, is Father Fischer's conclusion, landed on 
the shores of our present Nova Scotia about the year 999. 
But he went no further south, nor did any of his Norse coun- 
trymen, so that the " Norse tower at Newport," the " Norse 

^LExig^sede M. Loisy, PaV P. Bouvier. Paris : Victor Retaux. 

t The Discoveries of the Norsemen in America. By Joseph Fischer, S.J. Translated 
from the German by Basil H. Soulsby. St. Louis : B. Herder. 



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1903.] Views and Reviews. 261 

colony at Norumbega," and Mr. Horsford's strenuous efforts to 
prove a Norse entry into the territory that became New Eng- 
land, all tumble headlong out of authentic history. The his- 
tory of the church in Greenland is very pathetic. There was a 
bishop at Gardar who ruled from four to ten thousand dioce- 
sans, but the settlements were pitiably poor and constantly in 
conflict with privation. Their food was fish and milk; they 
had no coinage, and paid their tithes and Peter's pence in seal- 
skins and whalebone. Finally almost all the people perished or 
sought a less terrible habitation, priests departed, and the faith 
•died. But it died only after many a glorious testimony to its 
former vitality. For a hundred years after the last Mass had 
been said, the faithful were accustomed once a year to gather 
at a shrine where a linen corporal had been preserved, and 
there to keep alive their faith and to augment their sorrow by 
gazing upon this holy relic of the Presence that had gone from 
them. Here we must wish that Mr. Soulsby had been a little 
more careful in his translation. His words are : " Once a year 
the corporal was exhibited for adoration." 

It is a proof of the destitution of that distant corner of the 
church's vineys^rd, that when Alexander VI. appointed Mathias, 
a Benedictine missionary, hero, bishop of Gardar in 1492, he 
forbade the officials, of the Curia, under pain of excommunica- 
tion, to exact from the new prelate any tax for expediting the 
bulls of his appointment. 

7. — In two small volumes • recently issued under the editor- 
ship of M. Leon Mention we have a priceless collection of 
historical source-documents. The first volume contains the 
Declaratio. Cleri Gallicani of 1682, with the royal decrees and 
papal bulls evoked by that celebrated charter. Next come the 
original letters and edicts that grew out of Bossuet's denuncia- 
tion and Innocent XII. 's condemnation of Fenelon's Maxitnes 
des Saints. And finally we have here the earlier documents 
of the Jansenist controversy. Volume the second gives us 
Clement XL's " Unigenitus ** ; the royal pronouncements on 
the Jansenists; the clergy's remonstrances of 1750; and the 
reports, petitions, and briefs which led up to and effected the 

^ DocMWunts ReUUifs aux Rapports du Cler^avec la Royauti. Publics par L^on Mention. 
Vol. i., de 1682-1705 ; vol. ii., de 1705-1789. Paris: Alphonse Picard et Fils. 



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262 Views and Reviews, [May, 

suppression of the Jesuits. Every student of history will be 
glad to have sources, so important .ready at hand in this cheap 
and highly serviceable form. 

8. — From a learned Anglican we have a new volume* on 
the Creeds, which contains an historical and dogmatic exposi- 
tion of the symbols of the Apostles', of Nicaea, and of St. 
Athanasius. In the historical portion Mr. Mortimer shows him- 
self in thorough possession of the modern erudition that cen- 
tres about these three great creeds, and gives us consequently 
an extremely valuable essay on them. In presenting the theo- 
logical content of these ancient professions of faith, the author 
is remarkably Catholic. Save for some deficiencies in his idea 
of the church, a jfew obscurities with regard to one or two of 
the sacraments, and a very small number of phrases that are 
male sonantes to strict orthodoxy, we have here a summary of 
Christian dogma which might have come from one of the 
Catholic theologians whom Mr. Mortimer reverently and fre- 
quently quotes. Would that all his fellow-Anglicans were as 
Catholic as he! Would that the great basic beliefs of revela- 
tion were as clearly proclaimed by the prelates of his church f 
Would that all souls who have come so near to the Catholica 
Veritas would take the one further step which would bring 
them into communion with the Mother of saints ! 

9. — The story that Lazarus and his two sisters, Mary and 
Martha, were put to sea in an open boat by the persecuting 
Jews, that they were miraculously guided to the coast of France, 
that they preached Christianity among the Gauls, and that 
Lazarus died bishop of Marseilles, brings a smile to the face of 
any one who has ever heard of historical criticism. If the 
legend is told by way of pious entertainment, well . and good. 
But if it is seriously put befdre us as an authentic chapter in 
human events, we prefer historical veracity to edifying myth. 
Yet, marvellous to relate, the last seventy years of the nine- 
teenth century were filled with acrimonious contentions against 
the scholars who disputed the Frankish apostolate of Lazarus 

* The Creeds. An Historical and Doctrinal Exposition of the Apostles', Nicene, and 
Athanasian Creeds. By the Rev. Alfred G. Mortimer, D.D. New York: Longmans, Green 
& Co. 1902. 



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1903.] V/EIVS AND REVIEWS. 265 

and Mary Magdalen. These scholars were suspected of temerity, 
of pride, and of heresy; and Louis Duchesne, the greatest 
Hving Catholic historian, became — oh! the shame of it — a mar- 
tyr in this inexplicable persecution. Listen to what a good 
abb^ speaks out of an indignant soul against the critical icono- 
clasts : " In order to undermine devotion to St. Magdalen, the 
devil employs this inflated and temerarious pseudo-science 
which can end only in the denial of all revealed religion.'^ 
How the fierce warfare was waged between historians and a well- 
meaning but disastrous zeal for old traditions, our readers must 
discover from the fascinating pages of M. Houtin.* This little 
work has now appeared in a third edition, and we rejoice at 
its success. It is of a class of writings that makes for sound 
scholarship and enlightened faith. Keen in appreciating a situa- 
tion, incisive and brilliant in style, moderate and scholarly in 
temper, M. Houtin makes an ideal historian of a controversy. 
His Question Biblique^ as well as the present volume, proves 
this. We heartHy recommend the Controverse, 

10.-— Father Bachofen's workf on the canonical aspects of 
religious communities is simple in style, extensive in matter, 
and fills a real need in theological literature. Only thirty pages 
are given to congregations of simple vows, while three hundred 
and sixty are devoted to orders in the strict sense of the word. 
This, we think, is a disproportionate arrangement, but the 
author has done his best to live up to the promise made in his' 
preface, that he would try hard to include everything of im- 
portance to the congregations in the small space assigned them. 
A valuable appendix contains a few Papal rescripts of great 
importance for the present treatise. Among them we are glad 
to see Leo XIII.'s celebrated Quemadmodum forbidding " mani- 
festations of conscience " outside the Sacrament of Penance. In 
our opinion a sentence like the following ought to be explained 
a little. At first sight it gives one a start : " Tenentur religiosi 
utriusque sexus obedire Suntmo Pontifice^ tanquam supremo Prce- 
lato^ si prcecipiat ea quce regulce conformia sunt.*' And can 
Georgetown possibly be Latinized into *^ ad Georgetornensem'' f 

*La Contrtrutne dt V ApcstoliciU dti £^lises de Franct au XlXe Siicle. Par Albert Houtin. 
Troisitoie Edition. Paris: Alphonse Picard et Fils. 

\ Compendium Juris Regularium. Edidit P. Augustinus Bachofen, S.T.D. New York, 
Cincinnati, Chicago : Benziger Brothers. 



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264 Views and Reviews. [May, 

11. — Pere Hamon in his brochure* on Alcohol has brought 
together an interesting assortment of information upon the 
physical and moral evils of strong drink, and has added thereto 
many a wise and zealous exhortation. Total abstinence, he 
says, is a measure of heroic virtue which it is useless to preach 
in Germany, France, Italy, and Spain. More's the pity. But 
the next best thing is partial abstinence, and this the good 
father's volume will do much to promote. 

12. — Books from the pen of a priest on the regulation and 
sanctification of the Christian home are sure to contain invalu- 
able lessons and wise cautions. P. Hamon's book f has its share 
of this merit, and deserves to be read. 3ome will probably disa- 
gree with a few of his counsels, others will be displeased with a 
certain almost theatrical manner in presenting his views, but at 
least all directors of souls will be stimulated to vigorous thought 
by this volume, and will be helped to realize the necessity of 
frequent and sane instruction on the duties of parents, and the 
spiritual government of a Catholic household. The work gains 
nothing in dignity from an acrimonious imaginary colloquy with 
the deaconesses who are trying to make Protestants of the 
Catholics of Canada. 

13. — Every one is anxious for a thorough and honest ex- 
planation of the lamentable condition of Catholic France. There 
is among intelligent people a wide-spread impression that merely 
to express the whole blame in the over-driven phrase "Free- 
masonry," is shallow and insufficient. It stands to reason that 
back of the present feebleness and inanity of French Catholic- 
ity there must lie deep historic causes. What we are looking 
for is some French Catholic intelligent enough to know what 
these causes are, and brave enough to give them uncompromis- 
ing utterance. Precisely of this calibre is the Abbe Charles 
Denis, editor of the Annates de Philosophie Chritienne. His 
brochure t on the present crisis among his countrymen is a 
noble piece of candid and progressive composition. Fearlessly 

* Le Roi du Jour, VAlcool. Par £. Hamon, S.J. Paris : Ancienne Maison Charles 
Douniol. 

t Afisires Humaines. Causeries Familiferes sur quelques Ddfaiits et Vices des Families. 
Paris : Ancienne Maison Charies Douniol. 

X La Situation Politique SociaU et Intetlectuelle du Clergi Fran^ais. Par M. I'Abb^ Ch. 
Denis. Paris: Roger-Chemoviz. 



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1903.] Views and Reviews. 265 

he lays bare the momentous weakness to which internal dis- 
cords and blundering leadership have reduced the glorious 
old Church of France. Fearlessly he condemns the mistakes of 
a century, by whomsoever committed. And like a Baptist he 
gives voice to piercing warnings lest his co-religionists should 
still be contending over past prejudices, when the last hour of 
possible salvation shall strike. Everything from this intrepid 
pen is worthy to be read ; but none of his previous works 
has so moved and stimulated us as this. 

14. — Mr. Andrews text-book • of botany is intended to meet 
the needs of schools where an expensive laboratory equipment 
is out of the question. It abounds in practical questions, and 
will be found of good service in country schools where the 
needs of farm -life should be paramount to questions of theo- 
retical importance. It is well printed and replete with illustra- 
tions. But it cannot be said to possess any decided advantage 
over text-books already in the field. 

15. — Monsignor Ward has adopted a novel plan in this life f 
of St Edmund of Canterbury. He has collected and arranged in 
chronological order the facts of the saint's life as recorded by 
old English writers. Each selection is translated into modem 
English, retaining, however, the original wording, and is marked 
with a reference to the manuscript from which it was taken. 
Of course, some legend is bound up with actual history, but 
we have, at any rate, a picture of the saint as he appeared to 
the original chroniclers. Monsignor Ward's experiment seems 
to be a very successful one. 

The volume contains many excellent illustrations of such 
relics of St. Edmund's life and times as survive the ravages of 
over six centuries. The publisher is to be congratulated on 
this very attractive volume. 

16. — Mother Mary Xavier Warde is another valiant Irish- 
woman to whom Americans owe a debt of gratitude, for to 
her persevering labors are due the foundation and prosperous 

* Botany all the Year Round. By E. F. Andrews. New York, Cincinnati, Chicago: 
American Book Co. 

iSt. Edmund, Archbishop of Canterbury. His Life as told by old English Writers. 
Arranged by Bernard Ward. St. Louis : B. Herder. 



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266 V/EIVS AND REVIEWS. [May, 

existence of the Sisters of Mercy in our country. In the first 
years of their foundation the Sisters numbered seven ; at the 
time of Mother Warde's Golden Jubilee they numbered thou- 
sands and were established in fifty- eight dioceses of the United 
States. The hardships and rebuffs this noble achievement im- 
plied are recorded in the tribute of the Sisters of Mercy, 
Manchester, to their revered mother.* It is a well written and 
well constructed biography; a worthy memorial of a noble 
woman. 

17. — There can be no doubt that the Rosary holds a 
most prominent place among Catholic devotions, and con- 
sequently anything that will keep it from becoming, what 
those unacquainted with its spirit say it is, mere lip-worship, 
is most sincerely to be welcomed. There are few writers 
as capable as Mother Loyola to add to the already great num^ 
ber of books on the Rosary a really helpful work, and this 
she has given us in Hail! Full, of Grace.\ In this volume 
she provides us with simple thoughts on the fifteen decades, 
besides an introduction on the spirit and method of the 
Rosary. Father Thurston's preface is, as usual, well worth 
reading. His conviction, expressed in it, that "it would be 
difficult to find more helpful thoughts, or more vivid pictures, 
than Mother Loyola has here provided to aid us in the medi- 
tation of the drama of man's Redemption," is sufficient guar- 
antee of the worth of this latest of Mother Loyola's writings. 

Dodd, Mead & Co. announce that they will hereafter be the 
authorized publishers of Mr. Charles Stuart Street's books on 
Whist zxid Bridge. They will issue shortly : i. An entirely new 
edition of Bridge Up-To-Date, with revisions and corrections. 
2. A new edition of Whist Up-To-Date. 

They also have in preparation, by the same author. Sixty 
Bridge Hands, involving every problem of the game. 

* Reverend Mother Mary Xavier Warde. The Story of her Life, with brief sketches of her 
foundations. By the Sisters of Mercy, Mt. St. Mary's, Manchester. Preface by the Right 
Rev. Denis M. Bradley, D.D. Boston : Marlier & Co, 

\Hail! Pull of Grace, Simple Thoughts on the Rosary. By Mother Mary Loyola. 
Edited by Father Thurston, S.J. St. Louis : B. Herder. 



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1903.] Views and Reviews. 267 

TRAVELLING BY MEANS OF THE STEREOSCOPE.* 

There are various ways of taking a trip abroad. Of course 
nothing can equal the actual experiences of a voyage across 
the seas, the wandering among a people speaking a strange 
language and following unusual customs, gazing with open eyes 
at the historic monuments of bygone ages. So much does 
travelling abroad give new zest to life, that it becomes the an- 
ticipation of any one who has wealth and leisure. In the judg- 
ment of many, one's life is not rounded out unless one has 
spent some time in travelling, and has done the cities of Con- 
tinental Europe. But withal much travelling is a luxury to be 
enjoyed by the few. The many must content themselves to 
stay at home, and but read of the sights and scenes that de- 
light the eye of the " globe trotter," or use the Stereoscope. 

It is pleasing to note that an enterprising firm has under- 
taken to revive the stereoscope, and by means of it to present 
the scenes that interest travellers in such wise that we may 
enjoy them without leaving the family sitting-room. 

Not the least part of the wonders of modern science is the 
invention of the telephone, which practically annihilates dis- 
tance and brings to one's ear the voice of a friend, its timbre 
and its accents, though he be hundreds of miles away. What 
the telephone does for the ear, the stereoscope does for the 
eye. It brings to our vision actual scenes. They stand out in 
all their reality. The perspective is so preserved that the rela- 
tive distances of objects is correctly gauged. In short, the real 
objects are so vividly presented to us that the only thing that 
seems to be lacking are the babel of voices of the market 
places, or the rattle of the wagons over the paving stones, or 
the busy hum of city life. It probably would be more correct 
rather to mark the analogy between the stereoscope and the 
phonograph than between the stereoscope and the telephone. 
While the phonograph has embalmed the living voice and pro- 
duces it at will, so the stereoscope has embalmed the living 
scene and presents it on call. Both together will give the 
veracious reproduction of any event or place. 

* Travelling in the Holy Land through the Stereoscope, A Tour personally conducted by 
Jesse L3rman Hurlburt, D.D. New York. London, 'Ottawa, Kan., Toronto, Can.: Under- 
wood & Underwood. 



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^68 V/EIVS AND REVIEWS. [May. 

Messrs. Underwood and Underwood have arranged to take 
us through Palestine and through Rome with a stereoscope, 
and they have in preparation a trip through Ireland and other 
countries. These publications are unique: first in starting with 
the stereoscopic photograph; and second, in the patent map 
system, said to be the most important step ever made to assist 
one in locating himself in relation to objects about. Even if 
one intends to travel, there is no better way of familiarizing 
one's self with places to be visited than by the previous use 
of the stereoscope and its map system. It is an unrivalled 
guide. 

The scenes of Palestine are particularly interesting. The 
customs of the people are so unchanging there that their pres- 
ent-day vesture and habits bring one ba^k to the days of 
Christ. A Life of Christ read to the accompaniment of the 
stereoscopic pictures presents a far more vivid picture of the 
scenes pf long ago, and intensifies the reality of the words and 
events that make the life of the Saviour one of interest to all 
men. 



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The Month (March) : Continues the publication of Cardinal 
Newman's letters to Father Coleridge. Of special interest 
is one among them in which Newman said : "As to my 
Anglican Orders, I cannot conceive that they are valid; 
but I could not swear that they are not. I should be 
most uncommonly surprised if they were. It would re- 
quire the Pope^;r cathedrji to convince me." The Month 
recalls the excitement and controversy provoked by the 
appearance of The Grammar of Assent^ and the painful 
and serious trouble caused by the surreptitious publication 
of a letter of Newman's to Dr. Ullathorne containing the 
well-known phrase "an insolent, aggressive faction," 
which he but partially adopted and which was (and 
frequently still is) invested with a signification which he 
himself promptly repudiated — as if his denunciations were 
specially levelled^ at the Society of Jesus as a body. 

Henry C. Day in an article On the Modern Problem of 
Charity states the practical problem thus: "How can 
and ought the poor, who are always and actually with 
us, to be materially assisted so that their permanent con- 
dition may be bettered ?" Father Gerard writes on Car- 
dinal Vaughan's Lenten pastoral on the imminent peril 
hanging over children lest they grow up without instruc- 
tion in the truths of their faith and , without training in 
its spirit. 

The Tablet (7 March) : Publishes extracts from a report of Mrs. 
V. M. Crawford, after a visit to Canada as a member of 
a deputation of seven from the Marylebone Board of 
Guardians to investigate and report on the results of 
child emigration to Canada. Each member of the deputa- 
tion returned very favorably impressed with the openings 
afforded by Canada for the boy or girl emigrant. It is 
stated that a good age for emigrating boys is 10 or I3, 
As to girls the problem is complicated. From 16 to 18 
is a bad age, and it seems better that they too should 
be sent out quite young in order more easily to adapt 
themselves to the climate and customs of the new world. 



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270 Library Table. [May, 

International Journal of Ethics (April) : In an article entitled 
" The Religious Training of Children by Agnostics " Mrs. 
Francis Darwin, of Cambridge, Eng., attempts to show 
how persons who believe in no creed or dogma can help 
those starting in life in matters of religion. Without 
attempting to justify or to apologize for agnostics, she 
claims that since their existence is a fact, and since a 
strong spiritual life can coexist with no belief, their 
right to take part in the religious training of children 
must be acknowledged. The great end of training is to 
teach the child to uiyderstand the beauty of all the 
faiths which in the past have swayed the minds of men. 
Life must do the rest. 

Professor Royce, of Harvard, gives his opinion of 
" what should be the attitude of teachers of philosophy 
towards religion." Religion defined as the^ consciousness 
of practical relations to a real but at present unseen 
spiritual order is the most important business of man. 
But as to special religious problems the philosopher must 
cultivate in his elementary students a judicial rather than 
a dogmatic attitude. He must help his more advanced 
students to understand religious problems, but not be to 
them an appellate judge. He must not try to force his 
opinions on the general public. He is not to seek occa- 
sion to cause scandal to the little ones. But at the same 
time he should be frank and conciliatory, judicially criti- 
cal, reverently earnest. 

Father Tyrrell, S.J., writes of " Christianity and the 
Natural Virtues." He points out how Christianity has 
widened man's concept of his neighbor, and says that in 
the adaptations of Greek notions of virtue to universal 
and particular interests we must not only expand the 
Greek ideas of Justice, Fortitude, Temperance, and Pru- 
dence, but make a higher synthesis of these and the 
theological virtues of Faith, Hope, and Charity. 

The Critical Review (March, 1903): Rev. James Iverach reviews 
** Ladd's Philosophy of Conduct," which he considers the 
most profound and exhaustive treatise on ethics which 
has appeared in our time — a work grounded on the facts 
of experience, but also transcending the merely experi- 
mental and finding in metaphysics a solution of those 



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1903.] Library Table. 271 

ultimate problems of morality which a purely empirical 
ethics camiot give. It is a work remarkable for its ful- 
ness and thoroiigKness, and yet every page of which is 
interesting and helpful, and indeed some parts of which — 
as, for instance, the chapter on the notion of moral obli- 
gation — are of supreme value to the earnest student of 
moral conduct. The reviewer criticises the style and 
manner of Professor Ladd adversely, characterizing it as 
" non-conducting, cumbrous and awkward in construction, 
and resisting the efforts of the reader to put himself in 
relation to the meaning of the author." 

TA€ Monist (April): Professor James H. Hyslop, of Columbia 
University, undertakes a refutation of Kant's doctrine on 
analytic and synthetic judgments, and an exposition of 
that philosopher's misconception of the problem of 
knowledge. In a very, lengthy article translated from 
the German the attempt is made to prove '' that the 
religion of the New Testament in important, and even 
in some vital, points, can be interpreted only in the 
light of the influence of extraneous religions, and that 
this influence reached the men of the New Testament 
by way of Judaism." 

Le Comspondant (Feb. 10): " Les origines de la Reforme" 
(Imbart de la Tour) is a study of French society at the 
beginning of the sixteenth century. In M. Paul Gau- 
tier's recently published Madame de Stael et Napoleon 
M. de Lanzac de Laborie finds reasons for believing that 
it will place Napoleon's part in the historic quarrel in a 
better light. P. Giquells gives an interesting account of 
the little autonomy existing in the island of Houat, on 
the west coast of France. ** La Crise Sardiniere " dis- 
cusses the disappearance of the sardine from Breton 
waters. The series of articles on the morale and organ- 
ization of the French army is continued. Dora Melagali 
analyzes the causes of the excessively high rate of 
criminality existing among the lower classes of Neapoli- 
tan women ; and deplores that '* la religion telle qu'elle 
est comprise a Naples ne pent guere etre la moderatrice 
des passions in aider a la formation des caracteres." 
(March 10): Count Albert de Mun exposes the spirit in 
which the campaign against the religious orders has 

VOL. LXXVII.— 18 

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272 Library Table, [May, 

been prosecuted — a proceeding which he holds to be 
but an episode in a determined war against the church. 
M Crepon, continuing his "Nomination et Institution 
Canonique des Eveques," reviews the conflict waged by 
Napoleon to obtain the power of institution. M. Paul 
Nourrison relates the manner in which the Grand Orient 
dictated the an ti- religious policy of the present French 
government. 

(March 25): In the name of the founders of the newly 
inaugurated Catholic federation, ** L' Action Liberate 
Populaire," M. J. Piou, ancien depute, points out the 
supreme need for organized action on the part of French 
Catholics, and indicates the proposed policy of the union. 
In "fitudes d'Histoire Contemporaine," M. Pierre de la 
Gorge treats of the relative positions of France and 
Prussia just before the war of 1870. An anonymous 
writer presents a collection of political and philosophic 
thoughts from the writings and speeches of the German 
Emperor. 

Echo Religicux de Belgique (Feb.) : M. H. Romel, canon of 
Bruges, contributes a long and brilliant notice of the 
late Dr. Bouquillon, of the Catholic University of America. 
M Romel was a life long friend of the professor, and 
had ample opportunity of forming an accurate judgment 
of his simple, noble character, and unrivalled intellectual 
powers and attainments. M. Romel analyzes with true 
insight the many rare qualities which made the modest, 
retiring Dr. Bouquillon the foremost theologian of his 
generation, and, at the same time, a master in many 
varied fields of scholarship. Dom Laurent Janssens, the 
distinguished Benedictine, is cited as saying that, born 
under another sky, Thomas Bouquillon would have been 
the glory of the Sacred College — " son* nom est de ceux 
qui demeurent" 

£tudes (20 Feb.) : P. Brucker justifies the condemnation passed 
on M. Loisy's book, on the ground that the learned pro- 
fessor's volume is in opposition to the traditional theology 
and exegesis of the Church, and submits the Gospels 
and the Person of Christ to a dangerous method of 
rationalistic analysis. 
(5 March) : J. de la Serviere begins a description of the 



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1903.] Library Table, 273 

theological duel between James I. of England and 
Cardinal Bellarmin, on occasion of the latter's having 
denied that Catholics could lawfully take the English 
oath of allegiance condemned by Paul V. 
(20 March) : P. Condamin begins a general sketch of the 
relation between the Bible and Assyriology, discussing the 
matter from the critical and exegetical view- point. He 
aims at proving that, despite the resemblances between 
the Babylonian and Assyrian literatures on the one side 
and the Hebrew on the other, attentive and unprejudiced 
students must perceive that the monotheistic belief and 
the conception of a prophetic office on the part of the 
Hebrews can be explained only by recourse to super- 
natural intervention. 

Revue Benedictine (April) : Dom Janssens esteems Loisy's Chris- 
tianity as inferior to orthodox Protestantism ; and de- 
clares Loisy's theses, that dogmatic formulas are not final 
expressions of absolute truth, and that doctrinal devel- 
opment owes more than has ever been realized to pro- 
fane thought, to be audacious and un-Catholic. In fine, 
Loisy is a superficial scholar, a defective theologian, and 
an insincere critic, while Cardinal Richard, who con- 
demned him, is a holy and learned prelate. 

Revue de Lille (Feb.): Contains an address delivered before the 
professors and students of the department of letters in 
the University of Lille on St. Francis de Sales, the 
patron of that faculty, by M. A. Delplanque, who treated 
of the saint's life as a student and his influence as a 
missionary and spiritual writer. 

(March): M. fiugene Duthoit sketches the brilliant 
career of President Roosevelt, dwelling especially on his 
labors as President, and his views on social, political, 
and religious questions embodied in his book La Vie 
Intense. The writer is much impressed by the good will 
which Mr. Roosevelt manifests towards the Catholic re- 
ligion, and especially by the beautiful tribute paid to the 
late Rev. Martin Casserly, C.S.P., for his efficient and un- 
tiring labors in the suppression of evil and the relief of 
poverty in the city of New York. 

Revue Thomiste (March): A reviewer of M. Loisy's Evangile et 



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274 LIBRARY TABLE. [May, 

VAglisi gives the distinguished French scholar high 
praise for his admirable refutations of Harnack, but adds 
that M. Loisy falls frequently into error owing to his 
constant neglect of one great role of exegesis, viz.: to 
take into account the traditional interpretations of the 
church. This neglect of his lessens admiration even of 
such magnificent passages as that in which he gives the 
philosophy of doctrinal development with regard to the 
hierarchy. 

Democratie Chritienne (March): The- most important article 
in this number is the "Socialism of Karl Marx," by 
H. Du Sart; he gives a clear analysis of Marx's theory 
in regard to the relative value of merchandise and 
money. Henri Cochez presents an outline of the work 
to be carried on by clubs organized for the study of 
Christian democracy. The Abb^ Jean Siemienski con- 
tributes an historical sketch of the life and times of Jean 
Casimir, king of Poland. 

Revue GeniraU (April) : Ch. Wdeste offers a plea for the en- 
couragement of the study of the Latin and Greek lan- 
guages in the schools. Bon De Borchgrave reviews the 
colonization which has taken place in different parts of 
the world during the nineteenth century. Henri van 
Groenendael gives a concise exposition of the law that 
went into effect in Belgium the first of February last in 
regard to accident insurance, which is offered by the 
state to the workingman. 

Science Catkolique (March) : P. Chauvin traces the history of 
an opinion put forward in Loisy 's latest book, viz., that 
our Lord grew gradually into the consciousness of His 
Messiahship. This is an error that goes back to the 
second century, and has been held in one or another 
form by the Gnostics, Nestorius, Calvin, Zwingle, Beza, 
Strauss, and Renan. Finally in our own day it is pro- 
claimed by Sabatier and Harnack. M. Loisy in con- 
ceiving our Lord's Messiahship as not always presented 
to the Saviour's mind, has given us a Christ different 
from the object of the church's historic worship. 

La Quinzaine (i March): J. Debout sketches an association 
founded by the late Mgr. Doutreloux of Li^ge, for the 



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1903.] Library Table. 275 

propagation of the faith among laborers, composed of both 
priests and lay people. The association conducts two 
training schools for young recruits of the classes named, 
and studies to improve the social condition of the labor- 
ing people by organized and religiously directed efforts. 
It has spread into a number of cities and is in thriving 
condition. •» 

(i April): M. Martin thus sums up the great excellences 
of the legal code of Hammourabi, king of Babylonia, in 
the twenty- third century before Chiist: These ancient 
laws firmly establish the rights of property; they take 
a special care of family life ; they extend state protection 
to the poor and weak ; they give woman extraordinary 
privileges; they protect the interests of children; they 
define penalties for usury and other oppressions of the 
wealthy. On the other hand we find in these enactments 
several serious shortcomings. They seem not to be 
based upon any adequate notion of responsibility; they 
permit the substitution of an innocent child to atone for 
the crime of the father ; they are lax about safeguarding 
the use of capital punishment ; they allow wholesale social 
sin and throw about it the protection of law. 

Revue du Monde Invisible (March): From the Ami du Clerge 
an article is cited on the influence of blessed bells during 
storms. The Ritual is quoted in order to prove that by 
God's ordinary providence a supernatural power is con- 
ferred on these bells enabling them to overcome elemental 
disturbances and to counteract demoniacal influences. 

Stiidi Religiosi (Jan.-Feb.): P. Semeria, the famous Barnabite, 
appeals for intellectual honesty in dealing with Biblical 
difficulties, declaring that it is high time to realize that 
many of these difficulties arise from our own persistence 
in not viewing the Scriptures in the milieu in which they 
were originally composed. Many a noble expression of 
religion becomes false if subjected to the rigid tests of a 
science with which it should have nothing to do. Un- 
questionably the progress of intelligence has purified our 
religious concepts; unquestionably it has corrected many 
errors held devoutly for centuries about the Bible. Let 
us acknowledge this and cease to be at war with modern 
thought. 



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276 Library Table, [May. 

Rivista Internazionale (Feb.): G. Ratnpa writes on a new book 
of the Bishop of St. Gall on the position of the Catholic 
Church with regard to modern thought. It was sug- 
gested by the controversy raging in Germany about the 
recent volumes of Ehrhard and Harnack ; and reminds 
readers that while a reformation of Catholicism in its 
essence is never possible, there is need at present to 
exercise the church's vital forces in a way better adapted 
to the present age; internal reformation is an urgent 
necessity, and in particular we must aim at better educa- 
tion of the people. 

Rassegna Nazionale (i April): An article entitled ** Providence 
in the Fall of the Temporal Power*' says that though it 
is never easy to declare a fact to have been willed by 
Providence unless we know the divine mind, yet if there 
is any fact in all modern history which evidence and 
common sense unite in showing to be designed by God, 
that fact is the fall of the Temporal Power. In truth, 
either Divine Providence never interferes in human affairs, 
or else it certainly interfered in this instance. 



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A crisis appears to be imminent in the 

^'^HitoSiam*'^^ ^^^'^^ ^^ ^^^ Romanizing wing of the E^pis^ 
copal Church. Yet we are very doubtful if 
anything can or will be done to discipline the Ritualists. 
Our grounds for this judgment are, first, the growth of the 
movement has become so large that to cut it away will entail 
the excision of the most vital parts of the Episcopal Church. 
The people who have a profoundly religious spirit among the 
Episcopalians are the so-called Romanizing party. They are 
good church-goers. Religion is to them a vital principle of 
their lives. It means self-sacrifice and obedience to the law. 
There is more real religion in an ounce of the High- Church 
party than there is in a whole ton of the rationalizing, faith- 
less followers of the discredited private judgment theory. As 
one starts with a High- Church Ritualist and descends the 
scale to the Low-Churchman, he will find that the element of 
sincere devotion and belief is eliminated in an inverse ratio as 
the square of the distance. To attack the party of &ith and 
devotion will be as graceless as it will be fruitless. There is 
not authority enough in all the Episcopalian hierarchy in 
America to purchase the skin of a Ritualist or to make him 
budge one inch from his conscientious attitude toward the 
ancient doctrines and practices which he has deliberately 
taken up. 

In England it may not be so. Parliament may pass the 
Church Discipline Bill and the civil law may exclude the 
Ritualist from benefices, and deny support to him and his 
family, if he has one ; but there is no such power on this side 
of the water to deal with him in so arbitrary a way. More- 
over if the Episcopalian bishop undertakes to bring the Ritual- 
ist to trial, will he find any backing in the public sentiment of 
his co-religionists? The spirit of Ritualism has now pretty 
thoroughly leavened the Episcopalian mass, and even among 
those who are not extreme there is a profound sympathy for 
those who go to greater lengths, and especially would this be 
the case if they were under discipline. It would appear to an 
outsider that the clouds are gathering for a great storm in the 



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278 CaUMENT ON CURRENT TOPICS. [May' 

Episcopalian Church, and should any, combined effort be made 
by the Protestant party to defy the storm, the craft may be 
wracked from stem to stern before it passes through the crisis. 
The election of Rev. Wilford Lash Robbins, dean of All 
Saints' Cathedral, Albany, to the position of dean of the Gene- 
ral Theological Seminary, is said to be in no sense a victory 
for the radicals in either party, but simply for ''staunch 
churchmanship." Still, in the present acute state of affairs, 
that a Broad-Churchman was not selected may be taken to in- 
dicate that there is strong sympathies for the High- Churchmen, 
and to a large extent this party is inoculated with the Ritual- 
istic tendencies. 

Mr. Wyndham, Chief Secretary for Ireland, 
The Ndw Irish has introduced the Government's Land Bill 
Land BUI j^ the House of Commons. The bill follows 

quite closely the recommendations made by 
the late conference between the landlords and tenants of Ireland. 
On the whole it is a measure which, to quote Lord Charies 
Beresford, "must appeal to every Irishman who desires to see 
peace, unity, and settled, constant prosperity established in his 
country." At the convention in Dublin Mr. W) ndham's Bill was 
accepted unanimously by the popular representatives of the 
Nationalists. Mr. John Redmond termed the meeting the most 
important Nationalist convention held in Ireland in one hundred 
years, and stated that its recommendations would be supported 
by the members of the Land Conference and presented to the 
government as the demands of both the landlords and the 
tenants. The bill is the most sweeping proposal ever made 
with regard to reform in Irish affairs. It bears promise that 
something like justice, or the beginning of justice, is to be done 
by England for Ireland. Through the bill the government will 
give a free grant-in-aid of $60,000, cxx), which will be employed 
to pay the seller at least a percentage of the purchase money. 
Moreover, the land is capitalized at $500,000,000. On this sum 
stock is to be issued in yearly amounts of $25,000,000, guar- 
anteed by the government, unredeemable for thirty years, and 
bearing interest at two and three- quarters per cent. All this is a 
safe and profitable investment for the government. As regards 
the actual transfer, the value of the land is to be determined 
judicially by the Land Commission and the owners assured of 
payment by the credit of the government. The tenants will 



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^903.] Comment on Current Topics, 279 

receive loans to enable them to pay in part for the land, and 
any persons who have been tenants of the land within the last 
twenty years may receive such loan and be entitled to pur- 
chase. 

The government plans to have this system of changing 
extend over some fifteen years, which means, of course, the 
support of all Irish members for the present government of 
Messrs. Balfour, Chamberlain, and Wyndham, not only in matters 
local but also in questions of imperial government. 

It is a wise and strong move politically on the part of the 
present government, and warrants a hearty reception for King 
Edward on his coming visit to Ireland. 

Ireland's day of prosperity seems to be dawning. Many 
believe it but a short step from the settlement of the Land Bill 
to Home Rule. One thing is certainly true, and that is that 
the Land Bill by no means settles the whole Irish Question. 
The bill is a confession, as Mr. John Morley says, that England's 
policy toward Ireland has for a century been completely wrong. 
The transferring of the ownership of the soil to the people of 
Ireland will but strengthen the principle of self-government. 

Dr. William S. Rainsford is a member of 

Some BeUgious ^^e Protestant Episcopal Church of Amer- 
Happenings. . ^ • , , 

ica. Lately a protest has been entered 

against him for heretical utterances made in an address before 

the St. Andrew's Brotherhood in Philadelphia. The Outlook 

says " there is no article in the accepted creeds of the Episcopal 

Church that Dr. Rainsford does not heartily and sincerely 

accept." Dr. Rainsford, writing in the same publication, in the 

same number, says: ** I had come to the conclusion that infant 

baptism was not to be found in the New Testament. I could 

not satisfy myself that there was any proof that infants had 

been baptized by Jesus and his disciples, and I do not believe 

so to-day." 

Reverend Mr. Francis, of the " Order of the Atonement," 
publishes The Lamp to propagate " resubmission " of the An- 
glican Church to Rome. It champions the infallibility of the 
Pope, yet stands for the validity of Anglican Orders. Mr. 
Francis is to be brought to ecclesiastical trial for heresy. 

The Guardian of England calls for the punishment of 
Mr. Spencer Jones, whose "England and the Holy See, Essays 



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28o Comment on Current Topics. [May, 

towards Reunion " ** has already been responsible for a de- 
plorable amount of mischief." 

The American Church Board of Missions ordered the Bishop 
of Tokio to deal with the matter of Mr. Lloyd's ** apparent dis- 
loyalty." Mr. Lloyd is president of a Japanese college under 
the supervision of the board. He " had learned to turn to the 
Holy See after the desire of his heart," and resigned before 
the command came. 

Last month a conference was held in New York City of 
delegates appointed from the Episcopal, Presbyterian, and 
Methodist Churches to draw up some effective measures against 
the fearful wave of divorce and ** to secure adequately the en- 
forcement of appropriate regulations as to marriage, both in 
Church and State." 

This, of course, is nothing new. 

Two other conferences are about to be held: one in New 
York City, the other in Pittsburg. They have been called by 
members of the Presbyterian, Methodist, and Congregational 
denominations, and their immediate purpose is to effect Chris- 
tian unity. 

All this is nothing new, but the prayer goes forth with 
something like renewed fervor, ** Unto these cities of confusion 
send, O Lord, the light of Thy truth and peace." 

If thercx was ever any honest doubt as to 
Franca and Be- the intentions of the present government 
gion. ^j. pj.^j^j,g ^j^i^ regard to the religious orders 

and religion in general, there can be doubt no longer. All 
the religious orders are to be expelled from France, and 
through their expulsion the atheistical Radicals are aiming a 
blow at religion itself. The teaching orders, the commercial 
orders have gone. Now the same ones who drove them out 
are bitterly denouncing the Concordat, . which does not pertain 
to the religious at all. Even M. Combes, himself a Radical, 
has advised them to stop, saying that the time for its denun- 
ciation had not yet come. But because of repeated victories 
they are growing bolder, audaciously exposing their real motive 
to the public, and will not stop until they have done their best 
to make France a country without a church and without a 
religion. 



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1903.] The Columbian Reading Union. 281 



THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION. 

FATHER HECKER'S book entitled The Church and the Age contains 
a number of articles published in The Catholic World Magazine 
during a period of about ten years (1876-1886). As an editor of a magazine 
devoted to the interests of the Catholic Church in America, he touched on a 
number of topics under discussion at the time, which involved certain historical 
opinions. He claimed, for instante — Church and the AgCy page 97 — that ** the 
republic of the United States, in affirming man's natural rights, started in the 
eighteenth century with its face to Catholicity, and is in the ascending way of 
life to God. From this point of view the Declaration of American Indepen- 
dence has a higher than political meaning, and it may be said to be the turning 
point in history from a negation to an affirmation of truth ; interpreting demo- 
cracy not as a downward but as an upward movement, and placing political 
society anew on the road to assist man in the fulfilment of his divine destiny. 

*' Christianity, like republicanism, has in the last analysis to rely for its 
reception and success on reason and conscience and the innate powers of human 
nature, graciously aided from above as they always are. Let it once be shown 
that the Catholic interpretation of Christianity is consonant with the dictates of 
human reason, in accordance with man's normal feelings, favorable to the 
highest conceptions of man's dignity, and that it presents to his intelligence a 
destiny which awakens the uttermost action and devotion of all his powers, and 
you have opened the door to the American people for the reception of the 
complete evidence of the claims of the Catholic Church, and prepared the way 
for the universal acceptance of her divine character." 

In another passage from The Church and the Age^ page 114, Father 
Hecker stated his view of future developments as follows : 

"If, as mmy think, democracy will soon assume control of public affairs 
in the old world, the question is. What kind of a democracy will it be : what 
influence will be powerful enough to guide it morally aright ? No sectarian form 
of Christianity can be the guide of mighty human forces. So far as men are 
sectarians, so far do they deviate from the universal truth ; and only the 
universal principles of reason and revelation grasped and wielded by such an 
organic world-power as the Catholic Church can guide aright the tumultuous 
masses of mankind when the transition from one phase of civilization to another 
has begun. The power that could tame the barbarian ancestors of the civilized 
world exhibits in such men and such utterances as have been herein considered 
a force competent to guide to its proper destiny the baptized democracy of our 
day. And we may say in passing that it is difficult to exaggerate the majesty 
and power which a body of men representing the whole Catholic Church, as 
the Council of Trent intended the cardinals to do, would possess and exert the 
world over ; the decision of such a body, with the Pope at its head, could not 
fail to be final." 

The foregoing information is given in answer to a correspondent, who 
wishes to know also the exact words of the reference to the Council of Trent. 
By co.isulting the book on the Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent, 



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282 The Columbian Reading Union. [May, 

translated by the Rev. J. Waterworth — page 207 — the full context can be seen, 
together with the following quotation : 

''And the Synod ordains, that all and singular the particulars which have 
been elsewhere ordained, in the same Synod, touching the life, age, learning, 
and other qualifications of those who are to be appointed bishops, the same are 
also to be required in the creation of cardinals — even though they be deacons 
— of the Holy Roman Church ; whom the most Holy Roman Pontiff shall, as 
far as it can be conveniently done, select out of all the nations of Christendom, 
as he shall find persons suitable " (Decree on Reformation, chap, i.) 

In this last of his published works. Church and the Age, Father Hecker 
gave what may be called the dominant note of the future policy of Catholicity. 
It was written prior to the present development by Leo XIII. of the church's 
attitude towards our age, and towards the providential movement of men and 
nations towards free political institutions. Father Hecker was penetrated with 
the same spirit from the beginning of his career. The relations of intelligence 
and liberty to the religious life of the Catholic Church are here fully explained. 
• • • 

Young writers need much encouragement to overcome the difficulties 
incident to the publication of their first attempts. They also need some 
practical directions such as the following from A. Roland Hall in that helpful 
magazine devoted to practical talks on success in business, edited by Patrick 
J. Sweeney, 150 Nassau Street, New York City. 

Manuscripts for magazines should be written on white paper, six by nine 
inches. Never use foolscap. Write only on one side of the paper and do not 
fasten the sheets together. 

It is better to send your manuscript without folding. Enclose self-ad- 
dressed envelope and sufficient postage to return your manuscript. 

Number your pages at the top. The title of the article or story should 
be written about the middle of the first sheet. Put your name and address in 
the upper left corner of the first sheet, and the number of the words in your 
manuscript in the upper right corner. 

If possible, have your manuscripts typewritten. If penwritten, only black 
ink should be used. 

Do not expect editors to puzzle over poor handwriting. Write plainly. 
Leave some space between your lines and a small margin at both sides. 

Words may be divided at the end of a line and carried over to the next, 
but a part of a word should not be carried over to another sheet. 

It is not necessary to write the editor a long personal letter. State that 
your manuscript is for sale at the usual rates of the magazine. It is not a 
good plan for young writers to set a price on their work. 

Do not expect the editor to pass on your work at once. Editors of promi- 
nent publications have thousands of manuscripts to read. 

Do not feel hurt if your manuscript comes back. Put it aside for a 
month. Then read it critically, and you will often see that the editor had a 
good reason for not purchasing. Feel grateful for all criticism and suggestions. 

Short articles find a more ready market than long ones. 

Don*t write unless you have something to write about. Go right into 
your subject with the very first sentence. Introductions are rarely necessary ; 
if necessary, they should be very brief. 



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1903.] The Columbian Reading Union 283 

You will make your work ridiculous if you affect '' fine writing " or use 
expressions like "lurid glare,** "hoarse sob," etc. Avoid useless detail; 
the story of the creation was told in six hundred words. 

Use clear, simple language. "He had just left" is better than "the 
echo of his departing footsteps had hardly died away." 

Paragraph frequently. Let the points of your article stand out clearly. 
See that long and short sentences are properly proportioned. 

In a news article adhere strictly to facts ; leave opinion for the editorial page. 

Three things are necessary to successful authorship : a live, interesting 
topic, the ability to get the most out of your topic in the least space, and 
judgment in finding a market for your work. Get a copy of a publication and 
study its purpose before trying to write for it. 

Never submit anything for publication on which you don't feel you have 
done your best. Most successful authors find it necessary to write their arti- 
cles several times. Even a good article may sometimes be sent to eight or ten 

publications before a sale is made. 

• • • 

The late Edward Eggleston had an ideal studio at Lake George, where he 
did most of his literary work for many years past. In presenting a general 
view of his career the editor of the Bookman states the opinion that he would 
probably have desired to be known simply as an historian, for the later years 
of his life were entirely devoted to historical research and composition. 
Nevertheless, the best thing that he ever did was his story of primitive, semi- 
barbarous life in the Indiana of the early thirties, entitled The Hoosier School- 
masUry which Dr. Eggleston published about 1875. It is one of the first suc- 
cessful attempts to portray in fiction the rude and rough environment of men 
and women in the days when the Middle West was still in the making, and it 
is wonderfully interesting, amusing, and exciting. It was Dr. Eggleston's first' 
effort at fiction, and he wrote it very hastily and in the most off-hand fashion. 
It is obviously the work of an unpractised hand, for its simple plot is incon- 
sistent and full of gaps ; yet the characters in it are remarkably vivid, and 
their talk is racy and pungent to a degree. When the book appeared, the 
whole country caught it up with delight, and Dr. Eggleston suddenly found 
himself accepted as a popular novelist. He wrote several other books in much 
the same vein, but he never quite repeated his first success, for the reason that 
he became self-conscious and tried to be "literary," thereby killing the fresh- 
ness and simplicity which gave The Hoosier Schoolmaster so much charm. His 
story called The End of the World is, however, very well worth reading, and it 
gives a striking picture of the Millerite delusion and of the terrific scenes en- 
acted on the day when half the people of the West believed that the world was 
coming to an end. It is rather interesting to note that Dr. Eggleston soon 
recognized that he was falling below the standard of The Hoosier Schoolmaster, 
and that he then very promptly abandoned the writing of fiction. His most 
serious historical publication was The Beginners of the Nation, 

• • • 

A writer in Harper's Weekly declares that Finley Peter Dunne is a typical 
American. He began his work in Chicago as a reporter on a daily paper, and 
had the sense to look beneath the surface of the assignments that came to him 
as to others in the course of the day*s work. He found the human quality in 



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284 The Columbian Reading Union. L^ay, 1903.] 

what fell to his consideration ; he saw the humor and the sense and the pathos 
of every-day life, whether in ** Archie Road" or on the Lake Shore Drive, and 
he had the rare wit to realize their universal significance. All this became a 
concrete result in his conception of Mr. Dooley, whose consideration of ques- 
tions of the day embodies all that is really American — the wit that seems to 
belong alone to this strange mixture of nationalities called the American peo- 
ple, the keen sense of justice and the quality of being able to grasp the essen- 
tial point in any matter that have long since been identified with Abraham 
Lincoln, and the ability to hit hard without being mean or unkind that has 
been confined until now to Mark Twain. The result is that Mr. Dooley is a 
national character. We all know him ; we all respect him ; we all wish we 
had his clear brain. As Uncle Sam is himself typical of the Yankee, as David 
Harum is the type of the American countryman, so is Mr. Dooley as thor- 
oughly an American of another sort — the Yankee shrewdly mixed with the 
Irish immigrant. And thus Mr. Dunne, at the age of thirty-five, takes his 
place as the creator of a distinctive American personage, and promises to ex- 
tend his sphere of usefulness. 

♦ * ♦ • 

The public meeting of the Champlain Assembly School of Pedagogy, held 
at Columbus Hall March 21, New York City, marks the beginning of a new 
epoch in the history of the institution. Dr. Dwyer presided. Father Lavelle 
delivered the address of greeting. He was followed by Mr. Burlingham, until 
recently president of the Board of Education, who congratulated the audience 
on the deep interest in this great work, and expressed the hope that he might 
arrange to visit next summer their home at Cliff Haven. City Superintendent 
Maxwell spoke next, saying that during his long life he has labored that the 
teachers should have fixidity of tenure, competent salaries, reasonable pensions 
in their latter years, and a high ethical sense of duty toward the department 
of the work in which they are engaged. The first three have been provided by 
law, and he regards the Summer-School as one of the strongest factors in pro- 
ducing the rest. Commissioner Lummis, chairman of the finance committee of 
the Board of Education, made a plea in favor of Catholic education in general, 
appealing to all right-minded citizens to study the question without prejudice. 
Commissioner Barrett spoke pleasantly of the social life at Cliff Haven, and the 
earnestness of the work. Superintendent Taylor and Principal O'Callaghan, 
who are the instructors of the school, outlined their plan of the work. Some 
very good music was interspersed between the speeches. 

• • • 

The twelfth session of the Catholic Summer-School at Cliff Haven, N. Y., 
on Lake Champlain, will extend nine weeks, from July 6 to September 4. 
Courses of study are now arranged with reference to the approved plans for 
self-improvement among teachers and members of Reading Circles. Superin- 
tendent John Dwyer, Pd.D., is in charge of the department of Pedagogy, which 
will provide two of the most important courses for busy teachers : one on princi- 
ples and methods of teaching, by Superintendent J. S. Taylor, Pd.D. ; the other 
on educational psychology, by Principal W. F. 0*Callaghan, A. B. (Harvard). 

In compliance with the suggestion of Inspector Eugene W. Lyttle, of the 
Regents' department, an intensive course in English literature will be given for 
six weeks, beginning July 6, with lectures by Dr. Hugh T. Henry, Principal of 
the Catholic High School, Philadelphia; and Dr. Conde B. Pallen, of New 
York City. The studies in biology begun last year will be continued under the 
supervision of Dr. James J. Walsh, of the University of Pennsylvania. 
Professor Zeckwer, of the Philadelphia Musical Academy, will teach piano and 
violin, besides taking part in the lecture-recitals. The classes in art, sloyd, 
and physical culture will be organized under the same instructors who had suc- 
cessful results last year. A full programme of Athletics has been a leading 
feature of the Champlain Summer-School for several years. The prospectus 
giving railroad rates, etc., is now ready at the office of the Secretary, Warren 
E. Mosher, 39 East 42d Street, New York City. M. C. M. 



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' ^sehyluB, (Poem.) egv, jtjlian e, johhstokb. 
Skinner Tarsua Washington^ 

Kev, JAMES J. FOX, D.D. 

The Gift. (Poem.) Robert cox stump. 

A Vale of Health, {lUuatrated.) 

F. BEETRAND WILBEBFORCE, OP. 

A Study of Dr, Brownson. 

J. FAIRFAX Mclaughlin, ll d. 

The Magdalen of Cortona. (Illustrated.) 

Rev. PATHS a CtJTHBERT, O.S.F C. 

The Stone of the Lily. b, e. wade. 

Doctor Elgar'fl ** Dream of Gerontius." 

AN ursulinb. 
In a Breton Convent. (Illustrated.) 

ANNA SEATON SCHMIDT. 
Musings. ALBERT REYNA0D. 

Joyce Josselyn, Sinner 

MABY SABSFIUiD QILMOBB. 



Pflioe, ss Gents { #3 



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THE 

CATHOLIC WORLD. 

Vol. LXXVII. JUNE, 1903. No. 459. 




pBSGHYLUS. 

BY REV. JULIAN E. JOHNSTONE. 

SHAPE, as of the thunder, gorgon-faced. 
Enthroned 'mid lightnings in Cimmerian 

gloom, 
Whilst, on the wings of darkness, the simoom 
Sweeps round the rugged mountain, iron-braced. 
And scarred with scorings by the lightning traced. 
Silent and sombre as the face of doom 
Thy titan-spirit, -^schylus, doth loom 
Above thy city, now a wintry waste! 

O mighty monarch of the stormy lyre. 
What gloomy genius, born of the eclipse. 

And tempest pregnant with celestial fire. 

Rushed on thy spirit, and between thy lips, 

Breathed the deep thunder of his wrath sublime. 

And made thee master singer of all time? 




Thb Missionary Society op St. Paul the Apostle in the Statb 

OP New York, 1903. 
VOL. LXXVII. — 19 ^ 1 

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286 Skinner versus Washington. [June, 




SKINNER VERSUS WASHINGTON. 

BY REV. JAMES J. FOX. D.D. 

Education should be made compatible with and indispensable from morality; and our 
schools are the recognized and legitimate agents to make this a fact. To teach religion in 
public schools would be intolerable. — Superintendent Skinner, in his Report on Education. 

Reason and experience both forbid us to expect that morality can prevail to the exclusion, 
of religion. A volume could not trace all their connections with private and public felicity. 
Let it simply be asked, where is the security for property, for reputation, for life, if the sense 
of religious obligation desert the oaths which are the instruments of investigation in Courts of 
Justice ? — George Washington, in his Farewell Address to the American People. 

[N his official Report, as Superintendent of the 
Public School system of New York State, Mr. 
Skinner includes, as a special appendix, his Sara- 
toga address to the Teachers* Association, on 
moral instruction. His official position and the 
character of his views, rather than any conspicuous ability of 
treatment, invests this document with a deep interest. The 
tax-payers who do not share Mr. Skinner's opinions not un- 
reasonably consider it a grievance that they are obliged to 
contribute to the propagation of doctrines against which their 
conscience protests. An attentive inspection, however, of the 
Report and the address, is enough to assure them that their 
money has not been entirely misspent. This apologia for non- 
religious education is really a formidable indictment. Mr. 
Skinner's role is a reversal of the prophet's who came to bann 
and remained to bless. Let us compare his principles with his 
practical programme, and examine the quantity and quality of 
moral education which he contemplates. 



I. 

PRINCIPLE. 

It is to be observed in passing that, not, perhaps, con- 
sciously, Mr. Skinner in his address obscures the actual point 
at issue between himself and those who plead against the 
divorce of education from religion. He devotes much elo- 



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1903J Skinner versus Washington. 287 

quence to insistent iteration of the truth which nobody denies, 
that the school ought to teach morality. Certainly the school 
ought to teach morality. The complaint against the public 
school is not that it ought not to give moral training, but that 
it ought and cannot assure to its pupils a satisfactory moral 
formation. The advocates of religious instruction insist, not 
that the public school in attempting ethical training usurps a 
function which does not belong to it, but that by excluding 
religion from its precincts the school renders itself incapable of 
discharging thoroughly and efficiently what is overwhelmingly 
its most important duty — a duty such that any failure in it 
renders success in its other functions well nigh valueless. The 
considerable stress laid by Mr. Skinner upon the truth that 
the children's teacher has the right to mould their character 
recalls Mr. Holmes* katydid that said an undisputed thing in 
such a solemn way. 

Let us come to the distinctive and essential principle of 
Mr. Skinner's system, which is that morality can be taught 
without the aid of religion. Here, again, it becomes necessary 
to substitute precision for vagueness, to distinguish between 
truth and half truths ; for Mr. Skinner's habitual sin against 
logic is to take a fraction for the whole and call the whole a 
part. Can morality be taught without religion ? Yes, says 
Mr. Skinner, without any qualification. Yes, also replies the 
advocate of religion, if by morality you mean especially some 
of the minor matters of conduct; or if by teaching you mean 
subsidiary teaching, or a superficial and inadequate teaching. 
But if moral teaching means instruction of a kind to cover 
what is essential to the upbuilding of solidly virtuous character, 
and to fixing durably in the mind of the child convictions, 
motives, and ideals of a kind such as he must possess in order 
to meet successfully the exigencies of life, then the answer is, 
emphatically. No ! • 

It is not necessary, here, to discuss, academically, whether 
some kind or another of a moral code may not be theoreti- 
cally and practically established without any religious implica- 
tions. Reason and experience concordantly declare that, as 

• The necessary dependence of morality on religion is treated exhaustively and in a mas- 
terful manner in the work, Religion and Morality : their Nature and Mutual Relations His- 
toric€Uly and Doctrinally Considered, by James J. Fox, D.D. New York: William H. Young 
& Co.-^Note by Editor, 



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288 Skinner versus Washington. [June, 

Professor Ladd writes, " human morality has unceasing need of 
Religion, for its better support and more effective triumph over 
all the weaknesses and temptations which assault and try the 
very foundations upon which it reposes its rules for the prac- 
t'cal life. It is cold, hard work for the human soul and fright- 
fully difficult and unsafe for human society to try to lead the 
virtuous life strenuously and perfectly, and to hold up and 
advance the moral ideals, without the piety, consolations, and 
cheer which religion has to offer." Whatever differentiae exist 
between religion and morality " the roots of the two are largely 
the same — both those that strike down into the unchangeable 
constitution of man, and those that spread widely in the under- 
lying strata of all human domestic and other social conditions."^ 
The problem before the educators of America is not the merely 
academic one of settling, speculatively, the relations of religion 
and morality, either historically or empirically, nor how to 
teach this, that, or another moral ideal. There is one particu- 
lar moral ideal established in the minds of the people, as a 
whole, and serving both as the foundation of our national life 
and as the recognized standard of worthy citizenship. It is the 
ideal which has created the moral spirit of the air we breathe, 
which has established our ethical code ; which reigns over even 
those who theoretically reject, or fancy they reject, its authority. 
In a word, it is Christian morality that is understood by every- 
body, when the question of teaching morality is raised as a 
living issue. Hence to separate morality and religion in Ameri- 
can education is neither more nor less than to undertake to 
teach the morality of the Gospel independently of its re- 
ligrion. 

Now, Christianity is essentially an ethical religion ; its moral 
and its religious contents can no more be separated than can 
the concave and the convex of a circle. Its fundamental dog- 
mas and its basic moral principles are to a great extent identi- 
cal. Its primary religious truths — the existence of a Supreme 
Moral Ruler of the Universe, the immortality and responsibility 
of man, and a judgment to come, are the roots from which its 
moral code draws its life. As well might we expect a tree to 
grow after being cut at its root, as pretend to dissociate our 
moral doctrine from the fundamental religious truths which 
provide its ethical ideals, its dynamic motives, and its efficient 
sanctions. The Gospel has imposed its morality on the modern 



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1903.] Skinner versus Washington. 289 

world by teaching that the Supreme Lawgiver is the Creator, 
that the law of right and wrong is the expression of His adora- 
ble Holiness, that the voice of conscience is the voice of God, 
that, because it is so, the consciousness of duty fulfilled or 
neglected attends us through life and follows us beyond. These 
are the faiths upon which the social fabric of this nation has 
been reared, by which it is sustained, and from which has pro- 
ceeded all that is best and most glorious in American history. 
The principle of non- religious education asserts that these con- 
victions are of no importance to morality, that Christian ideals 
may be dispensed with, Christian motives neglected, because 
they can be substituted by others drawn from an independent 
source, that Christian virtue may be cultivated outside the soil 
in which alone it found birth and sustenance. 

A system of non- religious moral education means all this; 
and it means something still more hostile and more derogatory 
to Christianity. By the implication involved, it would instruct 
the child, silently indeed, but for that very reason all the more 
deeply and irresistibly, to believe that, not merely in casual 
instances, or by some happy accident, but in the very nature, 
and according to the normal course of things, unbelief or posi- 
tive atheism is a frame of mind which, as far as moral efficiency 
is concerned, is just as good as religious faith. 

Mr. Skinner indignantly repudiates the charge of godless- 
ness levelled at the public schools. Whether they are, or are 
not, we leave to further consideration. But one thing is clear: 
if they are not godless, the fact is due to some influences in 
conflict with the fundamental principle of the system. If the 
exclusion of God and all religious truth be not godlessness, in 
plain English, then, pray, what is ? Nor is it merely negative 
godlessness, in the same sense that the term might, for instance, 
be applied to a volume of mathematics or to a grammar text- 
book. It is positive, flagrant, and aggressive godlessness. For 
it disputes the claim which the Christian religion makes to be 
a paramount necessity to the right ordering of human life. It 
undertakes to do thoroughly and efficaciously, without the help 
of religion, a work which religion claims to be its own proper 
function. The doctrine is not the invention of Mr. Skinner. It 
has been advanced and urged by men who apprehended its full 
scope and tendency with a logical insight apparently denied 
to him. Its parents and sponsors were Volney and Voltaire 



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290 Skinner versus Washington. [June, 

and Tom Paine, and the entire phalanx of French infidelity. 
They perceived what anybody who looks into the Subject 
with any care cannot fail to perceive, that if the belief is es- 
tablished that morals can be taught and high ideals maintained 
without the help of Christian principles, a mighty advance will 
have been made in the campaign against Christianity. And the 
high- priest of contemporary agnosticism has declared that the 
culminating service to be rendered to the age by his philoso- 
phy is to secularize morals by establishing them on a scientific 
basis, and thereby supplanting a " regulative system no longer 
fit," — that is to say. Christian ethics. 

All serious moral teaching must be pervaded with instruc- 
tion concerning the grounds upon which the distinction between 
right, and wrong rests, the authority of the moral law, the sacred- 
ness of duty, the inviolability of conscience. Falling into his 
characteristic fault of stating half truths as the whole, Mr. Skin- 
ner oracularly declared to his subordinates that morality is rather 
a matter of practice than of belief. This is the same as to say 
that the utility of a house lies in its apartments rather than in 
its foundations. But as we can have no house without a foun- 
dation, neither can there be any reasonable practice without an 
underlying belief. Children are not to be instructed in morals 
just as dogs are taught tricks. Practice is necessary ; the for- 
mation of good habits indispensable ; but both must go hand- 
in-hand with the instruction of the reason. A teacher could be 
condemned to no more degradingly irrational and fruitless task 
than that of repeating to his pupils, through all its variations, 
the cry Be good, be good ; without being allowed to teach them 
why they ought to be good. To insist upon this fact seems to 
be but the repetition of a truism. If the public school is to 
undertake in a thoroughly systematic way the task which, as 
Mr. Skinner observes, has now devolved upon it of giving an 
ethical training, it is his duty to look around for a suitable 
ethical text-book or moral catechism in which the pupils may 
learn fundamental moral doctrine formulated upon a positivistic 
basis. The great lights of positivism have provided innumerable 
volumes expounding this conception of ethics. A practical for- 
mulation for the school-room of the spirit of their teaching 
would be to print the word duty, in great capitals, on the 
blackboard, and to train the children to reverently salute the 
word as they are accustomed to salute the national fla|^. There 

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1903.] Skinner versus Washington. 291 

is also a little book composed by a gentleman of independent 
thought, called A New Catechism* which is probably the best 
possible exposition, in a form suited to young minds, of the 
elements of moral teaching in harmony with the non-religious 
principle. The following leading questions and answers form a 
chapter entitled " The Chief End of Man," and are an excellent 
type of moral instruction as it must be given when Christian 
doctrine is rigidly barred out : 

Q, What is the greatest thing in the world ? 

A, Life with honor, for, without life we cannot have any- 
thing else that is good. 

Q, What, then, is the duty of man ? 

A. To seek those things which increase and elevate life. 

Q. How do we learn what is vice and what is virtue ? 

A. Through experience; the accumulated experience of hu- 
manity as well as our own. 

Q. Do we learn all we know about right and wrong from 
experience ? 

A. Positively all. 

Q. What constitutes authority ? 

A. Superior knowledge, goodness, and power. 

Q, Give me some examples. 

A, The authority of the parent over the child; of the teacher 
over the pupil ; of the state over the individual ; of mankind 
over the state ; and of nature over all. 

Q. What is nature ? 

A, The sum of all the forces which keep the world in move- 
ment. 

Q. Why obey nature? 

A. Because we have learned through the experience of ages 
that we must. If we do not, she will quickly replace us with 
those who will. 

Q. What other means does nature employ to compel obe- 
dience ? 

A, She has lodged in us a representative of her authority, 
which we may call — conscience. 

Q. Analyze and define it. 

A. Conscience is the mingled voices of the Past and the 
Future in each individual. Man is the vibrating focus of the 

*A New Catechism, By M. M. Mangasarian. Chicago : The Open Court Co. 



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292 Skinner versus Washington. [June, 

collective experience and tendencies of the Past and the hopes 
and visions and ideals of the Future — the pressure of the one, 
and the attraction of the other, find a voice in him ; this voice 
is — conscience. 

Q, Is that the commonly accepted definition ? 

A. No. Many people believe conscience is the "voice of 
God in the soul," but as this voice is not infallible, nothing is 
gained by calling it the " voice of God." 

Q. What is the reward of goodness and justice ? 

A. To be just and good. In a preceding chdpter on God, 
the word is defined as "representing the highest ideals of the 
race ; whatever we believe in with all our heart, and seek to 
possess with all our might, is our God." And to the question 
" Who then made God ? " the answer is, " Each man makes his 
own God." 

This is moral teaching unadulterated with religion, and as 
such is admirably suited for Mr. Skinner's ethical system. 
The sap of the old faiths, to use a phrase of Renan, is still 
too strong in the State of New York to allow of the introduc- 
tion of this consistent teaching. When, however, a generation 
which has been trained to do without religion will have come into 
control of affairs it may be expected that harmony will be 
established between principles and practice. 



II. 

PROGRAMME. 

The increasing responsibility falling upon the schools in the 
matter of moral education is observed and accepted by Mr. 
Skinner. '* Formerly," he says, "we relied upon the home and 
the church to train our youth along ethical and moral lines, 
. . . but there seems to be a continual transition in progress 
by which the former functions of church and home — as related 
to moral and ethical training — have more and more devolved 
upon the schools." As the school then, in his opinion, is to 
undertake the burden of forming our future citizens to virtue, it 
is important to consider Mr. Skinner's practical conception of 
the ethical ideal which the school is to realize. It is mirrored, 
with approximate completeness, in the following passages of the 



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I903-] Skinner versus Washington. 293 

address: "To teach morality in the schools is to teach the 
mighty difference between right and wrong, the advantage of 
always doing the right thing, that honesty is always the best 
rule of conduct. It is to teach unselfishness, reverence for 
authority, respect for the rights and opinions of others, good 
conduct, good manners, courtesy (always the outward and 
visible sign of other admirable qualities), a taste for good read- 
ing, pure thoughts, generous actions, reverence for the Sabbath^ 
love of nature and her children, and birds, flowers, and beasts." 
A supplementary statement is : " Nothing has done more for 
the results we are striving for than the training to habits of 
neatness, order, punctuality, cleanliness, good manners, and 
correct personal bearing." 

Theoretically speaking, all this field may be covered after a 
fashion and taught on independent grounds. It comprises 
nothing that would not be found in any decent ethical pagan- 
ism, except reverence for the Sabbath. And, it may be ob- 
served in passing, how reverence for the Sabbath is to be in- 
culcated without the inclusion of religion may be quite clear to 
Mr. Skinner, though anybody who attaches exact meanings to 
his words would find the question a difficult one. But the 
above elements of morals cannot be taught on an independent 
basis, as they ought to be taught. The mighty difference 
between right and wrong will not be duly impressed upon the 
child's mind when all reference to God is omitted, and the 
profound distinction thereby shorn of its awful character. 
Reverence for authority may be insisted on in terms of the 
Gospel according to Mr. Mangasarian, which reduces authority 
to the level of the laws of hydrostatics; or according to the 
theory of Hobbes, which makes the state the supreme and 
original source of all moral power — a strange doctrine to 
establish in the land of the Pilgrim Fathers. Honesty and 
respect for the rights of others may be recommended from the 
stand -point of advantage, by motives summed up in the old 
and now badly shattered adage. Honesty is the best policy. 
How long and how far such motives will continue to be a 
reservoir of moral strength to the individual in a country where 
the making of money is widely estimated to be the chief end 
of man, may be left to conjecture. As for the other qualities 
recorded in detail, politeness, courtesy, good manners, and 



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294 Skinner versus Washington. [June, 

habits of neatness and order, they are not the invariable sacra- 
mental signs of invisible virtues. They may all exist in a high 
degree of perfection without any genuine moral worth ; it, with- 
out them. They are the mint and cummin. A course of moral 
training having them for its chief object may turn out to be 
but an artistic whitewashing of sepulchres reeking with cor- 
ruption. The courtiers of the Regency in France and of the 
Restoration in England were the glass of fashion and the mould 
of form ; they were also persons " with foreheads of brass, 
hearts like the nether millstone, and tongues set on fire of 
hell." On the other hand, many a rough, uncouth man, whom 
fine people would scarce allow to come between the wind and 
their nobility,, may possess a character of sterling Christian 
manhood. The world is not very fastidious when it comes to 
ethical appreciations; still it continues to rank Samuel Johnson 
above Beau Brummel. A love of birds, beasts, flowers, and 
whatever else happens to be comprised in Mr. Skinner's culmi- 
nating phrase, nature and her children^ is beautiful and refining. 
But, after all, it is only an indifferent substitute for the First 
Commandment. Not long ago at an orgy which, by the depth 
of its depravity, shocked New York, the guests were highly 
cultivated persons, adorned with the quality which Mr. Skinner 
declares to be always the index of admirable interior virtues ; 
and carelessness about the rites of the toilet was certainly not 
on the list of their habitual sins. The banquet room, so the 
newspapers reported, was tastefully decorated with exquisite 
flowers, which, no doubt, were properly appreciated by the 
aesthetic company. Courtesy, punctuality, good manners, neat- 
ness, and orderly habits will go far towards making a successful 
clerk, or an ideal street-car conductor; but they will be no 
guarantee that their possessor is a good man. The biographical 
sketch of the absconding cashier usually records that the missing 
worthy had, for years, proved himself a paragon of nearly all 
the excellences in Mr. Skinner's programme. These lineaments 
of ethical character may belong equally to the saint and the 
profligate. The school can turn out perfect copies of the above 
examples who may be, notwithstanding, but cheap imitations of 
refined ungodliness. 

The outline furnished as a practical guide to teachers does 
not exhibit the one indispensable factor of moral training, which 



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I903-] Skinner versus Washington. 295 

must pervade and vivify every other; which alone, at least in 
the estimation of all Christians, can be relied upon to produce 
and sustain in character the force required to successfully com- 
bat the dangers and temptations of life. That all- important 
element is to instruct the child that Conscience is the voice of 
God ; that the law of right and wrong is His law ; that our 
first duty is to worship Him becomingly; and that the rever- 
ent service of Him embraces the fulfilment of all our duties. 
In other words, the fundamental instruction in morals — without 
which all particular teaching of special duties becomes l>ut a 
collection of prudential maxims or canons of good taste — is, 
necessarily, the inculcation of a large quantity of religious doc- 
trine. 



HI. 

IN CONS IS TENCY. 

If the prevalent non- religious system has not produced fully 
its logical consequences, the respite which the country has en- 
joyed is due to the fact that theory and practice have been at 
variance. The public school teachers, as a body, are animated 
by a Christian spirit. Better than the system to which they 
belong, they have striven against its tendency, as far as they 
could, by endeavors to encourage and make use of a God- 
fearing frame of mind in their pupils. They are cramped, as 
many a one of them sadly feels, and hindered from doing all 
they would, from all that they understand to be necessary to 
any serious development of character. And surrendering to 
circumstances, they are obliged to content themselves with 
merely touching, as if surreptitiously, upon the essentials, and 
giving most of their time to the minor affairs of Mr. Skinner's 
ethical conspectus. There is no lack of evidence in the Super- 
intendent's report that, notwithstanding his loud protestations, 
he does not really contemplate the exclusion of religion. For 
example, he cites in support of his views the laws of the State 
of Maine, which prescribe the teaching of the fundamental 
truths of Christianity; several of the authorities, such as Mr. 
Greenwood, to whom he appeals assume that the pupils are 
to be educated into God-fearing citizens. Again, he makes a 



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256 Skinner versus Washington. [June, 

vigorous fight for the retention of the Bible. True, he ad- 
vances as his reasons its moral, literary, and historical merit. 
The last of these excellences is widely disputed. The historical 
information contained in the Scriptures is not presented there 
in a form suited for primary schools. Besides, a great number 
of people, like the late Professor Huxley, whom Mr. Skinner 
decorates with the title of educational reformer, declares that 
the Bible is a tissue of myths interwoven with a slender and 
hardly distinguishable thread of fact. And, again, it may be 
asked, how is the history of the Bible to be emptied of its re- 
ligious implications? As to its value for the formation of 
style, even the late Mr. Ingersoll admitted' that claim. But he 
would reasonably ask whether the reading of a passage of it, 
at the opening of school, is a proper way of utilizing its liter- 
ary efficiency, and why the study of it, like that of Shakspere 
and the other great models, should not be relegated to a par- 
ticular period in the course. As to the morality of the Bible, 
when it is separated from the religious content, the ethical 
code becomes nothing more than a collection of maxims and 
examples shorn of any authority. 

Another important observation must be made. The ignor- 
ing of the religious character of the Bible and the reduction 
of it to the rank of a secular classic is, itself, a serious attack 
on the cherished convictions of all who look upon the Scrip- 
tures as the Word of God. Such a proceeding is a positive 
enforcement of the views of Huxley and Ingersoll. What 
more effectual means could be employed to instil into the ris- 
ing generation the free-thinker's estimate of the sacred volume, 
than to cultivate systematically in them the habit of regarding 
it as a mere text- book of history, style, and morals? 

Behind the insufficient pretexts set forth by Mr. Skinner, 
his real motive lies full in view. It is the religious character 
of the Bible which gives it, in his eyes, transcendent value. 
This unacknowledged inconsistency is not peculiar to him. 
Almost all the defenders of the system desire that a certain, 
or uncertain, measure of religious influence shall make itself 
felt. Let us make the exclusion of religion our first principle; 
the pupils and teachers and the Christian atmosphere of the 
country, will bring into the school- house the indispensable re- 
ligious leaven. Such is, obviously, the calculation. Can there, 



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I903-] Skinner versus Washington, 297 

however, be a stronger condemnation of the system than the 
admission that what is of vital importance to it must be intro- 
duced into it in violation of its characteristic claim ? Can a 
more incongruous procedure be imagined than that of a public 
official whose war cry is, No religion in the schools, coolly, in 
practice, assuming that he is competent to determine the mo- 
mentous question of what is the essence of Christianity, and 
then dictating to his subordinates that, in violation of law, his 
selection of doctrine shall be implicitly recognized ? He is in- 
dignant that criticisms of the moral inefficiency of the public 
schools and attempts to exclude the Bible should, in some in- 
stances, emanate from one and the same source ; and he calls 
this conduct "a process of reasoning known to logicians as a 
reductio ad absurdumy A little reflection may some day lead 
him to the surprising discovery that reductio ad absurdum is a 
concise description of his own position. If it is true that the 
best way to promote the repeal of a bad law is to rigorously 
enforce it, then it seems legitimate for Mr. Skinner's opponents 
to insist that he shall abide by the rigorous consequences of 
his own premises. 

There remains another line of defence for the non- religious 
policy. Its supporters may contend that, provided a system 
works satisfactorily, any inconsistency which it contains is to 
be overlooked in consideration of the practical results. Many 
of our most valuable institutions are a compromise between 
conflicting elements. Logical completeness is of slight import- 
ance compared to useful fruit. The strength of religion in the 
community has hitherto proved sufficient to impregnate educa- 
tion with the necessary saving salt; and it may be relied upon 
to continue its salutary influence. 

But is this calculation justified by prevalent conditions? We 
need not stop to inquire how far this view is correct with 
regard to the past or even to the present — the important inter- 
ests are those of the future. From among observant men of 
all shades of belief there is a chorus of testimony declaring 
that the religious spirit is rapidly waning in the country. 
Among the great mass of educated Protestants of every shade, 
dogmatic tenets are severely shaken, if not in complete ruin. 
The spread of agnosticism and unbelief among the educated is 
coincident with a rapid spread of indifferentism in all other 



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298 Skinner versus Washington. [June, 

ranks. Even religious teachers have abandoned all that their 
fathers understood by essential Christianity. Outside the Catho- 
lic Church, religious bodies, as Captain Mahan recently de- 
clared, come to stand for the idea that mere outward benevo 
lence is the Christian life itself, instead of being merely its 
visible fruit. Even Mr. Skinner shows some dim apprehension 
of the situation when he says that the former functions of the 
church and the home are now devolving upon the school. A 
writer in the Educational Review ^ February, 1898, asserted that 
more than one-half of the children of this country now receives 
no religious training. The bearing of most higher education 
upon religious faith is testified to by President Harper, who 
affirms that there is in the modern college a remarkable decrease 
in the teaching of Christian truth, and that a great many 
men and women in their college life grow careless about reli- 
gion. Nobody who is awake to innumerable indications in 
the current of American life will venture to accuse the Honora- 
ble Amasa Thornton of indulging in exaggerated pessimism 
when, not long ago, in the North American he uttered a 
solemn warning against '*the maelstrom of social and religi- 
ous depravity which threatens to engulf the religion of the 
future." 

Simultaneously with the decline of religion, there is going 
on a rapid and profound moral deterioration in public and in 
private life. The golden calf is set up on every high hill and 
under every green tree. Greed has so widely corrupted politi- 
cal life in national as well as in municipal affairs, that politics 
is now almost a synonym for systematic public robbery. In 
commercial life the standard of natural justice has been exten- 
sively supplanted by that of mere legality. In private life, to 
mention only one fact, the old characteristically Christian rev- 
erence for marriage, — the foundation of the family, which in its 
turn is the foundation of the state, — is disappearing; and the 
institution of divorce is flourishing to an extent for which civil- 
ization affords no parallel since the Gospel stamped out the cor- 
ruptions of decadent Roman paganism. It is not necessary, here, 
to examine whether there is any rigorous connection between 
the two facts — the simultaneous decline of religion and of mo- 
rality. Are we not witnessing the confirmation, on a porten- 
tous scale, of Washington's prophetic warning ? Nor is there 



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1903] 



Skinner versus Washington, 



299 



room, here, to consider whether the Reverend Washington Glad- 
den is correct when he asserts that ** there is a marked tendency 
in the public schools to lower the standard of education by 
eliminating God, and making us a sordid, money- loving race." 
One thing is obvious : the source of that influence upon which 
Mr. Skinner counts for the power to neutralize the pernicious 
ungodliness of his theoretical principles is steadily drying up, 
while the crying need for that power is just as steadily increas- 
ing. The doctrine that morality does not need religion is con- 
tributing to these conditions. Finally, principles and practice 
cannot permanently continue to be in conflict, for principles, in 
the long run, work out to their logical consequences. To expect 
that a system which ignores religion, and thereby makes a 
deadly assault on it, will continue to draw from religion a sav- 
ing grace, is neither more nor less than preposterous. We can- 
not live long upon a capital which we are rapidly eating up. 
The man engaged in sawing off the branch on which he is sit- 
ting is not accepted as a type of practical wisdom. 




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300 



THE Gift. 



[June. 




©HE GiPiP. 

BY ROBERT COX STUMP. 

*HE proudest princess will not answer " Nay," 
When her least subject would bestow some 

gift 
In sign of loving fealty. Loath to lift 
His eyes to meet her gaze, if she but say 
A gracious word, and smile, she doth repay 
His largess thousandfold; albeit he drift 
Out of her thought for ever, that one swift. 
Sweet thanks is cherished till his dying day. 

Would that my sin-soiled life might find as well 
Acceptance, though unworthy Mary^s hands, 
— She, Lady of light and love ineffable. 
And I the least and lowliest in her lands I 
Surely her heart sees, pities, understands 
My heart, that longs so much its love to tell. 




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Church of St. Apollinaris. 



A VALE OF HEALTH. 



BY F. BERTRAND WILBERFORCE, O.P. 




!ANY of the readers of The Catholic World 
Magazine may be familiar with the valley of 
the Ahr. Others who have never explored it, 
though they may have often passed Remagen on 
the Rhine, may be attracted by the illustrations 
which accompany this article to make its acquaintance. 

The first photograph shows us the outside of the well-known 
church of St. Apollinaris, standing on a hill overlooking old 
Father Rhine, which sweeps rapidly along at its foot. 

The body of the holy martyr St. Apollinaris, first Bishop 
of Ravenna, who received the crown of martyrdom under the 
Emperor Vespasian, was on its way to Cologne, but was buried 
on this Rhine side-hill. The legend runs that here the boat 
bearing the sacred relics stopped, as if to indicate that this was 
the appointed place of rest. 

. The present church is quite modern, built by the generosity 
of Count Fiirstenberg-Stammheim, and is decorated within by 

TOL. LXXVII.— 20 

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302 A VALE OF HEALTH. [June, 

frescoes of great beauty by Karl and Andreas Miiller, who are 
brothers, and Steinle, all artists of the Dtisseldorf school. 

In a crypt under the church are the sacred remains of the 
holy bishop and martyr. At the foot of the hill, to the right 
when looking at the photograph, is the little Rhineside town 
of Remagen, where several sailing craft are generally moored to 
receive consignments of the "Queen of Table Waters," the 
Apollinaris water, which has made the name of the holy mar- 
tyr known to many, especially of the Anglo-Saxon race, who 
have never read the Bollandists, or even Alban Butler. 

The spring from which the water is derived bubbles up 
about six miles from Remagen, and over the door of the bot- 
tling establishment stands an image of St. Apollinaris. 

On the left of the church stands a building with a small 
spire. It is a humble convent of Franciscan Fathers, who serve 
the church, and the little spire surmounts their domestic chapel. 
The fathers, who have another and larger convent at Bonn, 
about six miles down the Rhine, give many missions; their 
services as confessors in the Apollinaris church are much 
valued by the people, and English tourists can generaRy find 
an English-speaking confessor here. 

In the woods that surround their house are found many 
chapels and statues; one of St. Francis preaching is especially 
prominent, though not in the field of this photog^raph. On the 
steep road leading from the town to the church the pilgrim 
sees the Stations of the Cross, inviting him to pray as well as 
to rest. 

In the distance, on the left of the picture, the high hills 
beyond the Rhine are the famous seven mountains, the best 
known of which is the Drachenfels, up which a railway now 
ascends. The view of the river from that spot is one of the 
most lovely that the Rhine affords. 

Standing in the garden of the Franciscans a little above the 
church, a scene of enchanting beauty unfolds itself, whether 
you look up the river, to the right, or down it towards the 
seven mountains and Cologne. On the Feast of St Apolli- 
naris a pilgrimage is made to this church, and large numbers 
of epileptic patients are brought to ask the intercession of the 
holy martyr. 

A little distance up the Rhine, about two miles from Rema- 
gen, the river Ahr flows into it, after passing the picturesque 



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X903.] 



A VALE OF HEALTH. 



303 




The Landskronb, with the Rivek Ahr. 

town of Sinzig. The church, a very ancient one, with its 
round arches and domelike tower, stands on a hill in the centre 
.of the town, and is well worth a visit. The interior has been 
lately restored and decorated, with singularly good taste, by the 
present venerable parish priest. 

Leaving the main line at Remagen, the tourist will find a 
branch line winding up the valley along the banks of the Ahr. 
The valley at first is broad but picturesque, and the single 
line crosses roads and wanders through fields without gates or 
fences, wjth a primitive simplicity that would be enough to 
throw the whole *' Board of Trade " into hysterics. Every now 
and then appears a notice to warn carriages and foot passen- 
gers to halt in case they hear the bell of the engine tolling^ 
A stranger imagines he hears the bell of some rural chapel on 
the hills, till he discovers that it is his own unpoetical locomo- 
tive giving warning to all it may concern. The pace is not 
furious, and no accidents happen. 

After passing a small village with a new brick church, built 
by the present parish priest of Neuenahr, the train skirts the 



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304 • A VALE OF Health. [June, 

precipitous hill called the Landskrone, with vines planted 
among the stones almost to its summit Here, geologists tell 
us, in prehistorical times the Ahr formed a lake, though now 
it flows near the Landskrone with quite unimpeded course. 
• Just before reaching Neuenahr the extensive bottling works 
of the Apollinaris Water Company are passed. An «enormous 
trad« is done with England and the United States, as well as 
with all parts of Germany. No visitor is allowed to descend 
to the fountain, as the amount of carbonic acid gas freed by 
the wa|er is so large as to be dangerous. 

The' third illustration represwts the little town of Neuenahr, 
or •* Bad Neuenahr," a name which may seem to those not 
familiar with German to imply a slur upon the morality of its 
population, but which, they will be relieved to find, means only 
. Neuenahr Bath, or Spa. The town is little more than a col- 
lection of hotels, though a good number of shops have been 
; lately added. Before the discovery of the medicinal spring, 
! called the Sprudcl, it was a tiny hamlet, but now the parish 
I has a population of about 2,500. To show that it does not 
< deserve the epithet of Bad Neuenahr in the English sense, I 
* may mention that though at least 2,200 are Catholics, the parish 
priest told me that not more than half a dozen had failed to 
make their Easter duty. 

The present parish church stands a little up the hill behind 
the town ; its spire can be seen in the photograph, and though, 
amply large enough before the waters were discovered it is now 
absurdly small for the congregation, especially as all are 
anxious to hear Mass. Ground has been secured in the town 
close by the schools for a new church, which will be erected 
as soon as the government is satisfied that the money is forth- 
coming. In England we should no doubt build it at once, and 
pay for it at leisure, but in Germany the consent of the 
government is necessary. 

Many shady walks are to be found in the KurgarUn^ or. 
gardens that have been provided for the patients who are 
drinking the waters. The grounds have been laid out with 
much taste and skill, by the bank of the rushing Ahr. The 
Sprudel gushes out of the earth with ceaseless flow, God*s own 
medicine, that he has provided to give relief and health to 
nany a suff'erer. 

The waters are useful for many various ailmentSi but they 



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1903.] 



A VALE OF HEALTH. 



30s 



are found particularly efficacious in diseases of the Hver, such 
as gall-stone, jaundice, and diabetes. Every morning at 6 A. M., 
the band begins to play in order to cheer the hearts of the 
patients, who are directed to walk up and down for a quarter 
of an hour between each glass. 

The hill behind the town, called ** Neuenahr Berg," is of 



^^^ 








^ •* ^i •" ^ -J^ _ 


^ 



The Town of Bad Neuenahr. 

considerabje height, and from the little tower visible on its t< p 
a magnificent view can be obtained. Cologne Cathedral can be 
seen on a fine day even with the naked eye, its spires standing up 
in the distance ** like the finger of religion pointing to the sky." 

Many a patient, scarcely capable, at first, of creeping slowly 
about the Kurgarten, has been filled with feelings of triumph as 
well as gratitude on finding himself able to mount the steep 
hill and climb the watch-tower of the Neuenahr Berg after 
drinking for a few weeks the health -giving waters of the Sprudel, 

One of the most famous houses, the Maria- Hilf, is dedi- 
cated to our Lady of Perpetual Succor. Though not espe- 
cially ornamental, this establishment is eminently useful. The 
Maria -Hilf is half convent, half hospital, and in it priests and 
religious, whether men or women,, can be accommodated while 
visiting Neuenahr for the waters. It is kept by Franciscan 
Sisters of the Third Order, who have various houses in the 



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306 A VALE OF HEALTH. [June, 

• 

neighborhood and who nurse the sick poor in their own 
homes. The front portion of it constitutes a well-kept chapel, 
and if any priest is obliged to visit Ncuenahr for the waters 
he will find here a comfortable home in the best situation for 
beauty of view, with the advantage of a domestic chapel as 
well as a much cheaper tariff than in the hotels. Lay people 
are also admitted, and invalids who require special attention are 
nursed with devoted care by the sisters. 

About two miles higher up the valley stands the pictur- 
esque old town of Ahrweiler, surrounded by vine- clad hills, and 
with the Ahr passing close to its gates ; for the town is much 
in its mediaeval state, with four quaint old gateways. From 
these gates narrow streets run up into the market-place in the 
centre, where stands an old thirteenth century church with high 
roof and tower, in which hang many bells visible from below 
through the arches. 

The smaller tower which appears beyond the church is the 
school, presided over by the accomplished professor, Dr. Joarres. 
Across the Ahr, a little way above the town, stands the large 
Ursuline convent called Calvarienberg. From the gate of Ahr- 
weiler to the convent the Stations of the Cross are erected, 
the last Station being in the crypt of the church. 

The hill on which the convent stands was used, the local 
tradition says, during the Middle Ages as a place of execution. 
A pilgrim who had returned from the Holy Land declared 
that it reminded him of Mount Calvary, and the inhabitants, 
taking up his idea, erected there a church and a convent of 
the Friars of St. Francis. These religious served the church to 
the great spiritual advantage of the inhabitants till the French 
under Napoleon, having taken Ahrweiler, drove them out. 

After standing for a long while deserted the convent was 
again opened by Ursuline nuns, who at present have there a 
large community, the novices being this year sixty in number, 
and a flourishing school of young ladies. It is one of the 
best convent schools for young ladies in Germany, and even 
under the persecuting laws of Bismarck the nuns, it is said at 
the special request of the empress, were allowed to continue 
teaching, though they had to assume a secular costume. Now 
they wear the religious habit, and the church is served by their 
chaplain. The convent, which is very spacious, overlooking the 
Ahr, and surrounded by vine-clad hills affording lovely walks for 

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1903.] A VALE OF HEALTH. 307 

the young ladies, is being in great part rebuilt. Curiously enough, 
the mistress of novices is an English lady and a convert 

The writer of this article had the pleasure of assisting last 
June in the procession of the Blessed Sacrament at Ahrweiler. 
After the High Mass the procession formed in the square 
around the parish church, and passing through the streets lead- 
ing to one of the four gates, halted at an altar erected outside. 
Here the beginning ^of the Gospel of St. Matthew was sung 
and Benediction given. An ancient military confraternity 
founded in the Middle Ages assisted, and fired a volley in 
honor of the Blessed Sacra^ment. The procession then continued 
outside the walls to the next gate, where the opening words of 
St Mark were chanted; then to the third, where before Bene- 
diction the beginning of St. Luke was sung; and at the fourth 
the words of St John used at Mass for the last Gospel. The 
music was devout and ecclesiastical, all the people most rever- 
ent, no sign of levity or misbehavior, and all the houses 
ornamented with green boughs, pictures, and candles. Every- 
thing followed the unbroken tradition from the thirteenth 
century, a proof of true "continuity." Happily there is no 
Protestant conventicle in Ahrweiler, the only religious building, 
not Catholic, being a small synagogue. The towns of Germany 
are not disfigured by gin palaces and dissenting chapels. 

Passing on from Ahrweiler up the valley of the Ahr, a 
drive of singular beauty leads the tourist to Altenahr. The 
railroad has been carried up the valley, and is continually 
crossing and recrossing the winding river. At a bend of the 
road where the rocks rise abruptly from the river, one project- 
ing mass of rock, from its supposed resemblance to a cow, has 
received the name of the "Bunte-Kuh." 

After a drive of about eight miles through this charming 
valley, the road runs into a short tunnel, and the small though 
ancient town of Altenahr (Old Ahr) is reached. Here the hills 
are precipitous, broken, and most picturesque. The photograph 
is taken from a vineyard of considerable height, and deep in 
the valley on the left is seen the river Ahr winding round the 
foot of the hills. The craggy hill in the middle is the site of 
the old castle of the " Graf," or earl, of the district. Where a 
roof is seen standing like a huge umbrella on the rocky peak, 
was the keep of the old castle. A little lower is the ruin of 
the chapel, and other parts of the castle. 



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3o8 



A Vale of Health. 



[June, 




The Town of Altenahr, with a View of the Old Castle. 

The old "Graf" of Altenahr chose an almost impregnable 
position for his abode, and there he could defy any assault, 
though we cannot help thinking how easily a modern gun on 
one of the other hills would destroy his fort. These old noble- 
men in their strongholds all over the Rhine territory were too 
often hot much better than robber chiefs. When not fighting, 
they hunted for their occupation as much as their amusement. 
It would be interesting to know more of the details of their 
daily, life in those castles, the ruins of which are so strong. 
Every stone must have been carried up the steep mountain 
path, which is fatiguing to ascend even unladen. 

On the right of the illustration is seen the little town of 
Altenahr with its old church, said to have been standing there 
for a thousand years. It is massively built on the side of the 
hill, and seems almost to grow out of the primeval rock. In style 
it is what is called Roman in German, corresponding in great 
measure with our Norman, solid, plain, and with round arches. 

From Altenahr the railway continues for a considerable dis- 
tance till the Ahr becomes a mere rivulet, and the last station is 
the little town of Adenau, with a most picturesque market-place. 

One of the most interesting features of the valley, especially 



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1903.] A Vale of Health. - 309 

between Ahrweiler and Altenahr, is the way in which the vine- 
yards are built up in terraces on the precipitous sides of 
the rocky hills. Often they extend to the summit and seem 
almost to hang in mid- air above the head. The industry of 
the people is as istriking as their ingenuity. 

The inhabitants of the valley are simple, iervent Catholics, 
devoted to their religion. The wise laws of education oblige 
the children to remain in school, till the age^ of fourteen isr 
completed, and then to frequent a night-school till sixteen. In 
this way th^y are really educated, and as the priests teach religion 
many hours every week personally in the schools— from eight to 
ten hours a week according to the size of the school — they grow 
up with a thorough and practical knowledge of their religi(>n. 

On one occasion I was staying in the house of a parish 
priest who had a Rhineside district. The waters of the Rhine 
washed the very wall of the presbytery. This priest, now dead, 
had been in prison under the Falk laws, and afterwards spent about 
eight years on the English mission, in two of oUr large towns. 

On asking him what difference he found between his work 
in England and Germany he replied that there were two great 
advantages in Germany. Many of the difficulties to be encoun- 
tered in work for souls will of course be the same all the world 
over, but the first advantage over England was in the matter 
of the schools. He had no anxiety about the financial part of 
the work, and was not only perfectly free to teach religion but 
obliged to do so in person. " If I spoke to any of my people 
about sending their children to school/* he said, " they would 
laugh at me ! They dare n*t do anything else. If a boy stayed 
away with a medical certificate sent in to the master, his name 
would go to the mayor the same day and a policeman would 
call before night. - In fact, attendance is really enforced, and 
every boy and girl is bound to remain in school." 

The second advantage consisted in the absence of drunken- 
ness. His parishioners were* all working . people on the out- 
skirts of a large town, and he had only two men that could be 
with any justice called drunkards, and both of them had at 
that time been proclaimed and no publican could venture to 
supply them with drink. 

So peace and quiet and happiness rest upon this Neuenahr 
valley, which in more senses than one may well be called a Vale 
of Health. 



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310 A STUDY OF DR. BROWNSON. [June, 




A STUDY OF DR. BROWNSON. 

BY J. FAIRFAX MCLAUGHLIN. LL.D. 

SYLVESTER A. BROWNSON and Relief, his 
wife, parents of Orestes A. Brownson, were 
natives, the former of Hartford County, Con- 
necticut, the latter of Cheshire County, New 
Hampshire, and were among the early settlers 
of Stockbridge, Windsor County, Vermont, where Orestes A,, 
one of a numerous family, was born September i6, 1803; he 
died at Detroit, Michigan, April 17, 1876; and Notre Dame 
University claimed his bones, for honored sepulture. 

In the early " border wars between Yorkers and Green 
Mountain Boys, known as the Hampshire Grants Controversy, 
the Brownson clan were stalwart partisans on the Vermont 
side, and responded with alacrity whenever that whirlwind of 
a man, Ethan Allen, sounded the summons to battle: 

" Leave the harvest to rot on the field where it grows, 
And the reaping of wheat for the reaping of foes." 

In that admirable book of Travels in New England and 
New York, good Timothy D wight, with fierceness unusual to 
him, denounces those warlike Vermonters of colonial days as a 
godless band, and falls into an amusing paradox, in view of 
Ticonderoga, by the remark that Ethan Allen "made some 
noise in the bustling part of the Revolution," as though there 
were a quiet part. If Ethan wrote the first infidel book pub- 
lished in the United States, his quixotic Oracles of Reason^ 
Fanny, his daughter, made amends for it by her conversion to 
the Catholic faith, and by becoming the first daughter of Puritan 
New England to enter the cloister. Miss Allen was a holy 
nun of the Hotel Dieu convent of Montreal. Young Orestes 
Brownson, like the hero of Ticonderoga, once lurched danger- 
ously near to the abyss of infidelity, from which an innate 
sense of religion deeply embedded in the man happily saved 
him. His father, dying without any estate, left his family to 
struggle with poverty. The little boy Orestes was domiciled 



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I9P3J A Study of Dr. Brown^on. 311 

with an honest old couple at Royalton, a few miles away from 
his native place, and shared in their manual labor and frugal fare 
until his fourteenth year. The proud ones of earth are prone to 
disdain '' the short and simple annals of the poor/' but one of the 
most spirited passages in Dr. Brownson's writings describes his 
childhood days at Royalton. " In the early dawn of youth/' 
said he in 1832, "there was nothing I so much dreaded as that 
which should divert my thoughts from the Deity. I frequented 
the deep solitude of the forest, I clomb the cragged mountain. 
In the lone, wild, grand, sublime scenery around me, I seemed 
to trace His work, and to feel His spirit reigning in silent but 
not unacknowledged majesty. Those were hallowed days. Such 
was the state of my young affections; such the religious feel- 
ings of my childhood and youth. They were not learned from 
books; they were not produced by human teachers." 

At Ballston Spa, N. Y., Orestes, when fourteen years old, 
got for a few months his only smattering of school days. 
What folly all this talk about self- education ! Where is there 
a more conspicuous example than Dr. Brownson himself of its 
dangers and lurking pitfalls ? A good teacher is the paramount, 
indispensable need of the young, and unaided by such a guide 
no one can thread the labyrinth without losing the way. 
Alexander had Aristotle for teacher, the French Dauphin had 
BDSsuet, and Brownson's own early political idol, John C. 
Calhoun, had New England's best schoolmaster, Timothy Dwight. 
Opinion in the case of self-educated men is more fixed and 
intolerant than opinion on the part of educated men. The 
former strike it out like sparks from flint by hard knocks, the 
latter acquire it by training in the collective wisdom of the 
past. Hence self-education is tenacious in particulars, not 
always discerning general laws, and as definition and division, 
according to the Stagirite, are the two most difficult operations 
of the human mind, improper definitions and divisions of any 
given subject are the besetting weaknesses of him who is de- 
prived of able teachers, inops consilii^ to rely only on himself 
for what he learns. Cicero's two-edged sword in the hands of 
a roadman might often prove not more dangerous than what is 
called self-education on the part of a great genius. 

Brownson first embraced Presbyterianism, but did not tarry 
long in the gloomy company of Calvin ; and we next find him 
in the church of the Universalists, as a preacher in their pulpit. 



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312 A Study of Dr. Browns on, [June, 

The wanderer, lured by Godwin the English radical, was soon 
at large again, out of alignment with all the sects, and launch- 
ing forth as a free-thinker. He espoused the socialism taught 
by Robert Owen and his son, Robert Dale Owen, and when 
Fanny Wright, the disciple of Jeremy Bentham, began her 
crusade against marriage and in favor of godless education by 
means of a dangerous secret society fashioned after the Italian 
Carbonari, Dr. Brownson actually became her apologist, if not her 
champion, and was denounced by his late co- religionists, the 
Universalists, a$ a downright infidel. He replied to them, as his 
son informs us, that he " neither believed nor misbelieyed Chris- 
tianity." Having got down this far, and come face to face with 
atheism, the poor, blind giant paused on the brink and began to 
retrace his steps. ** I look back," he afterwards exclaimed, '* with 
startling horror upon this eclipse of the soul !" He read every- 
thing, good and bad, that came in his way, and, as he states in 
the Convert^ championed the dominant errors of the age. William 
Ellery Channing, the Unitarian, now attracted him, and he 
resumed the role of preacher, this time as an independent of the 
Unitarian school, which according to him included whatever of 
good was found fn Universalism, without what he called the 
latter's ** revolting and mischievous errors." Channing, Ripley, 
dnd other gentle spirits held him for some time in the Unitarian 
fold. But at last he took a new departure and set up a church 
of his own, a sort of miscegenated Catholic- Protestant Brown- 
sonian cult, the chief business of which was to get rid of 
priests and parsons, and open a new road to heaven. Presently 
it occurred to him that the founding of a church was the work 
of God, and not of poor, puny man, and that it was not unlikely 
the Redeemer of the world had come down from heaven and 
dwelt among us for the purpose of building a church himself. 

About the time of the Brook Farm movement he had been 
reading the French doctrinaires, Constant, Cousin, Fourier, 
Pierre Leroux, and the like, and had become saturated with 
Saint- Simonism. Finally he got hold of the Abbe Maret's Le 
Pantheism en la Society Moderne, and for the first time the blind 
giant began to see and grope his way upward. In a letter written 
in 1870 he refers to Mgr. Maret's work, and says: " He was the 
writer who first turned my mind in the direction of the Church." 
He had ever sought the truth, and from the hour his mind 
expanded to the apprehension of the divine origin of the Catholic 



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1903.] A Study of Dr. Brown son, 313 

Church, from that hour his real education began. All before, 
like Cassio's orgy, had but dragged down the immortal part of 
him to discourse fustian with his own shadow. Maret at last 
appeared pointing out the narrow path, like an angel of light. 
Then beg^n ^ study of the Fathers, and chiefly of the De digitate 
Dei of St. Augustine. He was received into the Catholic Church 
at Boston, in 1844, by Bishop Benedict J. Fenwick. 

The Scholastic philosophy of the middle age did not attract 
him as did the City of God, which became his text-book. Hence 
Dr. Brownson was never a Molinist. In his treatment of the 
dogmas and mysteries of religion we discern again the effects of 
unsystematic study in his early life. The habits of the schoolmen, 
buried like black-letter lawyers in the retreats of learning, and 
sounding all the depths of sacred science, were not the habits of 
a self-taught man. "You," he once wrote to Father Augustine 
F. Hcwit, "follow the Jesuit theologians; I follow rather the 
Augustinians." The mighty doctor of the patristic church who 
wrote before the development of dogmatic theology into science 
was more to his taste, more to his frame of mind, and indeed was 
ample enough to carry a world on his atlantean shoulders. 
But the freedom of Dr. Bfownson's pen in criticising those 
learned churchmen whom, he sometimes called the obscurantists 
of the age may be ascribed to his want of sympathy with 
asceticism. The disciplinary course of the schoolis had not been 
vouchsafed to him in his youth, and he found it hard to keep 
step with the drillmaster. I am aware of -no other limit on 
Dr. Brownson's extraordinary power as a logical, philosophic 
reasoner, except that he was not a Thomasite. That brilliant 
Protestant, Sir James Macintosh, looked upon St. Thomas not 
only as^the Angel of the Schools, but as the archangel of all 
philosophy, ancient and modern — an opinion in which the pres- 
ent venerable Pope Leo XIII. seems to agree with him. There 
was no dogmatic theology quoad a school during the patristic 
ages. That science is a development, just as in polite literature 
the Art of Poetry of Horace and the Institutes of Quintilian 
are crowning developments in systematizing rules of writing 
among the ancients; as Dryden expounded a philological and 
rhetorical method in English poetry; or as Joseph Story in 
the Dane Law School of Harvard first elaborated a scientific 
scheme of Equity Jurisprudence in this country. 

Kuhn in his Dogmatik points out the attempts at dogmatic 



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314 A Study of Dr. Brownson. [June, 

teaching by the Apologists of the first and second centuries of 
the Christian era. But they were not much more than at- 
tempts, merely general and fanciful. They tried to show an 
agreement between Christianity and the best results of Greek 
philosophy, especially with the teachings of Plato. Justin ex- 
plains on the theory, as Kuhn remarks, of the participation of 
all men in the illumination of the Word, the supposed fact that 
Christian doctrines are found in Greek heathen writers, and on 
the further theory that the Greeks had borrowed from the 
sacred books of the Old Testament. The learned and ingenious 
Father Thebaud, of St. John's College, in our own day en- 
larges on the latter theory in his work on Gentilism, particu- 
larly in his somewhat fanciful examination of the "Prometheus 
Bound" and the Orestean trilogy of iEschylus. Clement of 
Alexandria went deeper in his Stromata in a dogmatic direc- 
tion than Justin. A nearer approach still to a scheme of 
dogmatic science was made by Origen in his great treatise 
De Principiis, although he never worked out his plan. Then 
came the mightiest of all the writers of the patristic age, 
St. Augustine. In his De Trinitate the Bishop of Hippo proves 
the Nicene doctrine from Scripture and tradition; shows that 
there is no absurdity in believing in a Trinity of Persons and 
in the perfect Unity of God ; and confirms the truth of these 
fundamental doctrines of the Catholic Church, as the Dogmatik 
says, by natural analogies. St. Augustine contributed most 
powerfully to theological learning in the primitive ages of the 
church, and a study of his writings gave the strongest impulse 
to scientific progress in the middle ages. 

Bishop James Roosevelt Bayley, of Newark, was a sincere 
friend and admirer of Dr. Brownson, but the practical bishop 
had some diffidence of philosophizers, and such a oiie he 
thought Brownson to be. " Every writer," pithily exclaims the 
doctor, "whatever else he writes, writes himself." Father John 
Boyce, of Worcester, a very brilliant man, once remarked to 
me that probably Dr. Brownson was the ablest logician in 
America, and George Ripley, of the Tribune^ himself a subtle 
metaphysician, summed up Brownson's system of philosophy as 
a blending of traditionalism and rationalism. Intuition and re- 
flection need a sensible sign, and language Supplies it, which, 
says Ripley, "holds in the metaphysics of Mr. Brownson a 
place corresponding to that which tradition holds in his reli- 



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1903.] A Study of Dr. Brownson. 315 

gious system. The knowledge of God, he maintains, is intuitive. 
The ideal element of every act is God creating creatures, ens 
creat existentias.'* Brownson himself thus states his formula: 
** Nothing in man, in nature, in the universe, is explicable with- 
out the creative act of God, for nothing exists without that 
act. . . . Through that act he is immanent as first cause 
in all creatures, and in every act of every creature. The crea- 
ture deriving existence from his creative act can no more con- 
tinue to exist than it could begin to exist without it." 

Dr. Ward, the distinguished editor of the Dublin Review^ 
told Father Guy, the happy compiler of hand-books, he thought 
the Brownson formula beautiful, but that he never could see 
anything in it^ and Father Guy in the friendliest spirit, but 
without the slightest tact, communicated Ward's opinion to 
Brownson. Now, poets are not the only genus irritabile, as 
Brownson made plain by the following remark : " Ward's philo- 
sophical articles are to us as unintelligible as Dr. Newman's 
Essay in Aid of a Grammar of Assent^ of which we can make 
neither head nor taiL It is our fault, we presume." And again : 
" Neither do we accept his or Dr. Newman'^ theory of devel- 
opment of Christian doctrine; and we believe the Christians 
of the first century held as explicitly the whole Christian faith, 
as we do of the nineteenth century. Yet we like the Dublin 
Review upon the whole." 

Dr. Newman, rector of the new Catholic University of Ire- 
land, with unconscious humor, had mistaken our American 
philosopher for the man with the globe and atlas, and tendered 
to him the chair of Geography in that institution. Dr. Brown- 
son, of course, declined promptly with thanks. The gentle rec- 
tor, suspecting perhaps that he had committed some unpardon- 
able offence, changed the chair to that of Philosophy of 
Religion and renewed the offer, but even here the negative 
pregnant slipped in with the remark that the bishops had re- 
served the chair of theology and metaphysics for ecclesiastics, 
and that pf Philosophy of History was already filled by Dr. 
Dollinger. Nothing came of it, as the Irish got restive under 
the infusion of so much Anglo-Saxon blood in their veins, and 
Brpwnson not only stayed in America, but Newman himself 
went back to; England. 

In the political movements of his times Dr. Brownson was 
very warmly interested. For the third of a century he was a 



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3i6 A Study of Dr. Browns on, [June, 

Calhoun man, and in 1843 ^^^ 1844, with the two Heckers, 
worked strenuously to secure the nomination of Mr. Calhoun 
for President, Mr. John Hecker supplying the sinews of war 
for public meetings, and Dr. Brownson and Mr. Isaac Hecker 
the Calhoun literature. When Polk was chosen and Calhoun's 
friends were in doubt whether the latter would be- retained in 
the new administration, Mr. Isaac Hecker scouted the sugges- 
tion, and with better penetration into what was going on be- 
hind the scenes shrewdly wrote to Dr. Brownson : " I think it 
is rather whether Mr. Calhoun will stay." Whether or not Mr. 
Calhoun confided his intentions to his ardent New York friend 
I am unable to say, but the event proved Mr. Hecker's opinion 
was right; for when Polk tendered the office of minister to 
Englaiid to him, Calhoun declined that or any other position. 
Dn Brownson showed his chagrin in characteristic fashion. 
When his son handed him the morning paper with news of the 
nomination not of his favorite but of James K. Polk, he was 
quiet for a moment, and then roared out, ** Who is James K, 
Polk ? " and dashed down the paper with unspeakable scorn 
and indignation. 

Brownson was a strict state-rights man, and held fast to 
state sovereignty to the end, which he had imbibed from Cal- 
houn. When the great war broke out between North and 
South he cudgelled his brains to invent some new theory by 
which secession on the one hand and centralization on the 
other might be avoided. Divine Providence and the solidarity 
of the race at last, he thought, presented a waly out, and he 
wrote a book. The American Republic, in Support of the newly 
discovered theory. But in order to maintain it he was com- 
pelled to abandon his life-long doctrine of the individud 
sovereignty of the States and substitute for it a collective, 
complex 'Sovereignty breathed into the several States and the 
American Union at a twin birth superinduced at the same in- 
•stant of time in some inscrutable way by act of Divine Provi- 
dence. He elaborates this ingenious novelty in The American 
Republic, and in regard to the Convention of 1787, which 
framed our happy Constitution, he says : ** The system is no 
invention of man, is no creation of the convention, but is given 
us by Providence in the living constitution of the American 
people. The merit of the statesmen of 1787 is that they did 
not destroy or deface the work of Providence," — who ever be- 



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1903] A Study of Dr. Browns on. 317 

fore heard of such wondrous, supernatural statesmen, able to 
destroy the work of Providence? — "but accepted it and organ- 
ized the government in harmony with the real elements given 
them." George Ripley carefully reviewed the book in the Trib^ 
une, and, much to the disgust of Brownson, pronounced it " a 
psychological curiosity," which in truth it is. 

Our philosopher was not without a grave humor, which he 
employed rarely, and therefore more enjoyably when it does 
appear in his pages. He complains of some woman novelist — 
Lady Georgiana FuUerton very probably — that she concerns 
herself too much with the lady heroine's corsets, and in some 
remarks on Irving and Hawthorne, after praising them a little, 
he adds that they are deficient in dignity and strength ; " they 
are pleasant authors for the" boudoir, or to read while resting 
one's self on the sofa after dinner. No man who has any self- 
respect will read either of them in the morning." Bancroft, he 
remarks, has intellect and scholarship, " but no taste, no literary 
good breeding. He gesticulates furiously, and speaks always 
from the top of his voice." Of American authors in general, 
after the manner of Edgar A. Foe, whose brilliant pen he is 
apt to, and extremely able to handle, he observes that " they 
take too high a key for their voice, and are obliged, in order 
to get through, to sing in falsetto." Sometimes the victim of 
this sort of rough treatment made reprisal on the doctor, and 
carried the war into Africa. About the middle of the past 
century Father John Boyce, of Worcester, Massachusetts, a dis- 
tinguished Maynooth man, wrote several popular novels under 
the pseudonym of " Paul Peppergrass." Shandy McGuire, his 
first story, was extolled to the stars by Dr. Brownson, and its 
author placed on a pinnacle. But his next novel, The Spae- 
wifff did not fare so well at the hands of the uncertain doc- 
tor, who criticised the novelist unmercifully. Among other 
noted guests one day at the dinner table of Bishop Fitzpatrick, 
awkwardly enough the two authors met, and both being master- 
ful men, they had it out with each other with considerable , 
acrimony. The outcome was a retort in kind on the doctor by 
the Maynooth clergyman, somewhat after the manner, although 
in prose, of " English Bards and Scotch Reviewers.'* Among 
the dramatis personte of Father Boyce's next story, Mary Lee^ 
or the Yankee in Ireland^ which was published in several 
numbers in the old Catholic Metropolitan Magazine of Baltimore, 
VOL. Lxxvii.— 21 

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3i8 A Study of dr. Brownson. [June, 

there appeared a certain Dr. Horseman, whom everybody 
recognized as Dr. Brownson in domino. But this witty piece 
of writing was spoiled by the overzealous interference or pater- 
nalism of the bishops, who prevailed upon Father Boyce to re- 
write the character, and change the picturesque Dr. Horseman 
into the listless Dr. Henshaw, before the story came out in 
book form. All the art was taken out of it, and the good 
bishops had marred a very clever bit of satire. 

It would be a most useful compendium of philosophy if 
some one would collate, condense, and edit into one goodly 
octavo form the philosophical essays of Dr. Brownson. In the 
proper hands such a volume could be made an invaluable 
manual for Catholic schools and colleges. But the proper pen 
must do it : a scholai;, a trained dialectician, a dogmatic 
theologian, is the indispensable man for such a work; no one 
else should meddle with it — it must be turned over to no 
journeyman to botch it. For years Brownson's Review^ like a 
beacon light set upon a hill, was the standard of philosophical 
literature in this country ; its editor was the oracle of logics and 
metaphysics; prelates recognized him, clergymen hearkened to 
him, and the laity were justly proud of him. Indeed, they all 
spoiled him a little, and he became something of a Samuel 
Johnson. If the trigger missed, he was apt to knock you down 
with the butt end of the gun. In some other respects he was 
quite like that drastic schoolmaster of Congress, John Randolph 
of Roanoke, and shook his locks and frowned, as schoolmaster- 
general to churchmen and laymen, both in Europe and America, 
even at the highest — now at Dr. Newman, again at the Jesuits 
since Aquaviva ; once in awhile Father Hewit or Archbishop 
Hughes was his quarry, and even at rare intervals his life-long, 
devoted friend Father Isaac Hecker, beloved founder of the 
Paulists. But he never stayed mad long; he emitted a spark 
or two, and it was all over. 

Pierre Leroux and Gioberti lured him into occasional bogs, 
but at last he learned to know and weigh justly those eccentric 
comets, and became their master as they had once been his. 
Sometimes his bold flights partook of rashness, and made the 
discreet fear for his future ; but he never went beyond the 
border line. Dollinger and Hyacinthe might plunge over the 
abyss into chaos ; the eloquent Lacordaire and the noble 
Montalembert might anon press the bosses of the buckler too 



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1903.] A Study of Dr. Brownson. 319 

far; but touch the Pope, and, like the needle to the pole, 
Brownson reverently quivered into place; in the most daring 
speculations, with his metaphysical zeal aglow at white heat, 
he would pause to proclaim his unshakable allegiance to the 
voice of the church, and his readiness to cast aside and retract 
any opinion which she pronounced error. The American 
philosopher stood upon the solid rock, and was safe. 

In three massive volumes of biography, Dr. Brownson's son 
has done for his father's memory quite as much as Charles 
Francis Adams had previously done for that of his grandfather, 
old John Adams. Blocks of solid granite and a forest of scaf- 
folding have become under Henry F. Brownson's filial hand the 
stately edifice. The future editor of the father in his prayers for 
benefactors will have reason to remember the son, who has 
passed over the diversified domain of this prolific genius, like 
Sir Matthew Hale over a still more trackless wild, and left the 
world an admirable analysis. 

Every vestige of Brownson, every footstep, is that of a 
giant, and the wonder of it is that he was self-taught. To 
have overcome this misfortune and impress the world, as 
Orestes A. Brownson did, with the sense of his extraordinary 
power, proves that he belonged to the exclusive class. An 
eminent citizen of South Carolina, R. Barnwell Rhett, in 1841, 
wrote of Dr. Brownson as the man " whom the first mind in 
England has pronounced to be the greatest genius in America.'' 
However that may be, certain it is that the Catholic Church 
regards him as one of her true sons, faithful and valiant to the 
end. 




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The Town of Cortona. 



THE MAGDALEN OF CORTONA. 



BY REV. FATHER CUTHBERT, O.S.F.C. 




OME one has remarked that the Gospel without 
the Magdalen would not be the Gospel of Christ 
And truly it is the story of the Magdalen which 
more than aught else has made the world real- 
ize the essential message of Christianity to man. 
For our Divine Lord came into the world to save sinners, to 
raise up the fallen, to give hope to the hopeless. His mission 
was primarily to the lost sheep. He would leave the ninety- 
nine who were safe, and go forth into the wilderness to seek 
the one who had strayed, that rejoicing he might bring it 
home on his shoulders. In fact, the whole economy of the 
Incarnation is directed principally to raise up the sinner. God 
descends from .heaven that he might lift fallen man up from 
the earth. He puts off the high majesty of his divinity and 
takes upon himself our humanity, in order that making himself 
one with us he might win our love, and by the force of love 
purify us and form us into something like himself. This same 



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1903.] The Magdalen of Cortona. 321 

pitying condescension to our weakness is manifested in the 
constitution of the church. She is set in the world with the 
primary object of saving the sinner and nursing the sick. In 
her sacramental system she brings the invisible into contact 
with the visible, clothes the loftiest truths in simple human 
language, and whilst insisting on a divine standard -of virtue 
yet has regard for the inborn frailty of. our nature. With 
Christ she proclaims openly that her mission is to the sinner 
rather than to the righteous ; that she exists to save souls 
rather than to crown them. Her sacraments, too, are given 
not as a reward of virtue but as a help to the weak to attain 
virtue. She does not. insist that those who come to her and 
claim to -be hers should be grounded in spiritual perfection; 
she only asks that they should have in their hearts the honest 
desire of a spiritual life, and then she takes them by the hand 
and leads them and fosters them with a mother's care. Hence 
one of the marks of the church on earth is that she is the 
Friend of publicans and sinners, even as our Lord was. And 
It is only when we grasp this important fact in the church's 
constitution - that we can rightly appreciate her genius and 
character. 

We expect then to find the story of the Magdalen fre- 
quently repeated in the history of the church, and it is only 
in the nature of things that there should be a Mary of Egypt, 
a Thais, an Augustine in the calendar of canonized saints. The 
understanding of their lives is essential to an understanding of 
Jesus Christ's relationship with the world. Well for us, there* 
fore, it is to recur from time to time to the history of the 
Magdalen. There we see, on the one hand, the poor, soul 
instinct with life and with the lust of life. Why should she 
not enjoy life ? is the question ever present to her mind. Why 
should she not live the life which is hers, and follow the road 
which she imagines will bring her the satisfaction and joy she 
instinctively calls for? In some souls this desire for self-real- 
ization is much more imperative than in others. These are the 
souls at once most capable of great deeds, and most liable to 
grave ertors. For it all depends where they seek that joy of 
life which they yearn for; whether in the things that are 
passing and earthy, or in what is eternal and divine. The 
Magdalen, full of the thirst for life, found satisfaction at first 
in sin. But sin evidently did not satisfy her nature, except in 



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322 The Magdalen of Cortona. [June, 

part, and even in the pursuit of sensual pleasure she was con- 
scious of an emptiness of soul. Then our Divine Saviour came 
to her. She listened as he spoke; she felt in her own heart 
the yearning of his Sacred Heart towards her, and she knew 
that in him she had found the Source of that full joy of life 
which her nature sought. As the love of Christ took posses- 
sion of her, the world lost its power over her. From a sinner 
she was transformed into a saint ; and by what means ? By 
the simple transfer of her affections from sin to her Saviour. 
Our Lord thus made himself the object of that intense human 
love of which Magdalen was capable, and to satisfy which she 
had sinned. And nowhere in the Gospel is the divine conde- 
scension more vividly manifested than in our Lord's dealings 
with this lost sheep whom he had saved. He drew her more 
closely to himself than he drew most of the disciples who had 
not sinned; he showed her a deeper tenderness and sympathy 
than he did to the unfallen Martha. He requited her passion- 
ate clinging to him on the cross by manifesting himself to her 
on Easter morn. And who can tell the sense of infinite love 
conveyed to her when her Lord spoke that one word " Mary 1 " 
as she wept desolate near the empty sepulchre? There was in 
truth a depth of human tenderness and sympathy in our Divine 
Lord's relationship with her; had there not been, Magdalen 
would never have understood his divine love for her. It is the 
mystery of the Incarnation carried out in all the details of our 
Lord's dealings with men. He becomes Man to appeal to man. 
He clothes his Divine Love in human form, that we, being 
human, might understand and appreciate it. 

Moreover, the Magdalen's story teaches us that we have to 
give God a human love; for who more human than the Mag- 
dalen? In fact, we cannot really love otherwise. We must 
love with soul and body, mind and heart, if our love is to be 
perfect. And here I think we have one of the chief lessons of 
the Magdalen's story, in that it teaches us the value of our 
human affections, which so easily lead us astray, and yet may 
so surely lead us to highest sanctity. 

As an illustration of our Divine Lord's dealings with re- 
pentant souls, the history of St Margaret of Cortona is instruc- 
tive. She was another Magdalen — the Magdalen of the Sera- 
phic Order, she is styled in the Franciscan Breviary — and the 
story of her conversion may be said to supplement the story 



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I903-] ^^^ MAGDALEN OF CORTONA, 323 

of the Penitent of the Gospels ; giving us, as it does, a further 
glimpse of our Lord's sacred intimacy with the souls he saves. 

Margaret was the daughter of a well-to-do farmer of Laviano, 
a village near Cortona in Tuscany. She was beautiful amongst 
the fair daughters of her native province; and consequently 
from her early years never lacked flatterers. And their at- 
tentions were sweet to her, and she revelled in the thought of 
the power she held, and doubtless enjoyed the triumph reflected 
in the ill-natured talk of her neighbors. It might have been 
somewhat different had she been happy in her own home ; but 
she was not happy. Her mother had died when Margaret was 
a child of seven years; and the girl was left to the care of a 
father whose chief interest was in his farm. Then after a few 
years he married a second time. The second wife was a self- 
righteous woman, one of the sort from whom an erring girl 
may expect no pity. From this stepmother Margaret received 
the harshest words and general ill-will. Unhappy at home, 
she consequently threw herself with the more intentness into 
such gaiety as she found in the neighborhood. At length, at 
the age of eighteen, she fled from her father's house, and under 
promise of marriage became the mistress of a young knight of 
Montepulciano, a town some short distance away; and so she 
continued for nine years, living a gay, extravagant life. Yet 
she has recorded how during those years of sin she oftentimes 
yearned for a better life, and wept for misery. Moreover, she 
constantly helped the poor in their need and was kind to the 
unfortunate. 

Evidently Margaret's guilty life was not the whole of her 
life; her better nature had not entirely surrendered to her 
guilty desire. Out of the depths of her sin she looked up 
timorously to heaven, praying that God would some day disen- 
tangle her from the web of misery in which she now was. At 
times the desire for a better life so took possession of her that 
she already seemed to herself the penitent she afterwards be- 
came. " Take heart ! " she would say to the friends who re- 
monstrated with her on the scandal she was giving, — ** Take 
heart! Some day you will call me a saint." But then looking 
into herself, the task seemed hopeless. How could she possibly 
give up her present manner of life, with its comfort and luxury 
and all that appealed to her senses? At one moment great 
was her desire to do so ; at another moment she felt powerless 



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324 THE Magdalen of Cortona. [June, 

to make the sacrifice. Plainly God must save her ; she could 
not save herself. And God did save her by an evident mani- 
festation of his providence. 

The knight was one day on a journey in the neighborhood 
of his castle, when he was set upon in a wood by armed robbers 
and stabbed to death. For two days Margaret had a^^aited his 
return, not knowing what could have detained him, when she 
saw her lover's dog running toward her and howling piteously. 
Led by the dog, Margaret went forth and discovered the 
corpse. After the first paroxysm of grief she- recognized in the 
event the judgment of God ; and at that moment the glamour 
of her guilty life vanished* In the face of death sudden and 
violent, she realized the vanity of the world. God had snapped 
the cords which had seemed to bind her irrevocably to sin. 
Then the desire which had always been present iti Margaret's 
soul to lead a better life became a great resolve. She would 
abandon sin for ever and by penance atone for the past. 

She at once re'turned to Montepulciano, put aside her rich 
dresses and jewels, and clothed herself in the garb of a penitent. 
Next she gave back to the family of the murdered man the 
property he had settled upon her, and then, leaving the castle, 
went to seek shelter in her father's house. Here the first test 
of her resolution met her. Her father was willing to take her 
back, but her stepmother would not hear of it; and Margaret 
was cast out upon the world. In distress of soul she went and 
sat under a fig-tree in a garden and wept and prayed. It 
seemed to her useless trying to do good, and the temptation 
was strong within her to go back to a life of sin. Biit God 
again came to her aid, and inspired her with the thought to go 
and seek out the Franciscan Friars in Cortona and ask them to 
help her. As she entered Cortona she met two noble ladies, 
who, struck with pity at the sight of her pale face and evident 
weariness, spoke to her and offered their assistance. Margaret, 
touched by their human sympathy, began to weep and in the 
midst of her tears gave them some account of her purpose in 
coming to the city. The ladles thereupon brought her to their 
house and introduced her to the friars; and these recognizing 
the Divine Will, took her into their spiritual charge and ap- 
pointed Father Giunta Bevagnati, a wise and holy man, to be 
her director. She was at this time twenty- seven years of age. 

Now began that wonderful life of purification and sanctifica- 



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1903.] The Magdalen of Cortona. 



325 




St. Margaret of Cortona.— By Guercino, 



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326 The Magdalen of Cortona. [June, 

tion of which Father Giunta, who directed her till her death, 
has left the record. 

From the first our Divine Lord took her, as it were, by the 
hand and drew her to himself. In sacred colloquies he told 
her of his care for her and of his purposes concerning her. This 
he did, as he said, not for her own sake alone, but to convince 
all sinners of his exceeding pity and love for them ; that know- 
ing how he d«alt with her, they might understand «his care for 
them. 

For three years after her conversion Margaret seems to 
have had a sharp struggle with herself. Keenly as she sorrowed 
for past sin and desired the better life, something of the old 
leaven remained in her, and the tempter was not wanting in 
efforts to turn her back from her purpose of consecrating her- 
self wholly to God.« It was not that she still desired to go 
back to her former life of guilt; only that the flesh was AOt 
yet wholly subdued to obey the spirit. Why should she embrace 
a penitential life and cut herself off from all worldly pleasure ? 
Might she not follow in the way of ordinary Christians and 
yet save her soul? Such was the plea of the tempter. But 
Margaret knew well in her heart that for her there could be no 
compromise with the world. She must either aim at being a 
saint or be a sinner. Any compromise would infallibly lead 
her back into guilt. Moreover God was calling her to the 
higher way of perfection; and to be faithful to him she must 
follow that. For three years she had to suffer this trial of 
spirit. She was, however, consoled by the voice of her Saviour 
speaking direct to her soul. One day she was thinking of her 
own unworthiness and wondering how God could possibly have 
any care for one who had fallen so low as she, when our Divine 
Lord said to her : " Remember that I can dispense my favors 
to whomsoever I will. Hast thou forgotten Magdalen, or the 
woman of Samaria, or the Chanaanite, or Matthew the publican, 
whom I chose to be my Apostle, or the thief to whom I 
promised Paradise?" 

At the end of these three years our Lord permitted her to 
be received into the Third Order of St. Francis. Referring to 
this event afterwards, our Lord told her : " I have planted thee, 
my child, in the garden of my Love. For my blessed Father 
Francis, my Beloved One, was wholly lost in my Love. And 
I have given the Order of Friars Minor to thee, and I have 



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1903.] The Magdalen of Cortona, 327 

given the children of this ©rder to thee to instruct thee. 
Amongst them thou shalt find apostles to whom I shall give 
the grace to understand the favors I am going to bestow on 
thee." Another time he revealed to her that she was given 
to the Franciscan Order to increase its merit before God. 
"Wonder not," he told her, "because I said I had planted 
thee in the garden of my Love — that is, the Order of the 
Blessed Francis. ... In my Father's name I now grant 
thee this fresh gift. Thou, my little plant, shalt flourish and 
spread forth new branches which shall overshadow the faithful. 
It is My Will that streams of mercy should flow from these 
branches to refresh the withered plants of the world." 

About this time, too, our Lord began to address her as 
"my child," signifying that she was now purified and taken 
into his special confidence. Hitherto, whilst something of the 
old self remained active in her, he had styled her simply "my 
poor little one" (poverella). 

But the more intimately our Lord revealed himself to her 
the more conscious she became of her own unworthiness, and 
the more she sorrowed over her past. This sorrow for sin 
caused her to seek frequent opportunities for self-humiliation, 
and it needed the wisdom of her director to moderate her 
penances. Perhaps the ultimate purification of the repentant 
soul is found in the utter self-abasement which comes when the 
soul first realizes what God is, and that he, the All- Holy, really 
loves the creature he has made. 

"Take me away, and in the lowest deep 

There let me be. 
And there in hope the lone night-watches keep 

Told out to me." 

Thus does Cardinal Newman make Gerontius give voice to 
the poor soul brought face to face suddenly with its Lord. 
It is the shrinking of the soul, conscious of unworthiness, from 
the presence of God's sanctity; and it represents the experi- 
ence of every repentant soul when it first becomes conscious 
of the greatness of the Divine Love. On the very day that 
our Lord for the first time addressed her as " my child " and 
revealed himself to her in more intimate love, Margaret began 
to experience that ultimate purification the more acutely. 



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328 THE MAGDALEN OF CORTONA. [June, 

Our Lord, however, deigned majvellously to reassure her, when 
shortly afterwards he told, her: "My child, I will one day 
place thee among the Seraphim and the virgins burning with 
Divine Love." Margaret heard these words with wondering 
fear. " How, Lord," she asked, " can this be to me, who have 
defiled myself with so great sins?" And our Lord replied: 
"My child, thy penances have so purified thy soul from all 
consequences of sin that thy sorrow and thy sufferings shall 
reinstate thee in virginal purity." Again, he revealed to her, 
for her further assurance, that Magdalen at her entrance into 
Paradise found place amongst the virgins, because of her great 
love of Christ. In this way did our Lord gfive Margaret that 
hope dearest surely to the heart of every penitent. By love 
of God she might regain the lost treasure and come before her 
Lord in his kingdom as though she had never fallen. She 
would be perfectly restored to innocence. Her sin would not 
be merely cloaked over by virtue, but wholly taken away. Is 
hot this the great essential hope which Christianity gives to 
the world — the hope of complete restoration ? — so that the 
past years are regained in the intensity of the love which 
reconstitutes the fallen soul in its first glory. " Many sins are 
forgiven her, because she hath loved much " ; and Magdalen, 
hearing those words, was at least dimly cbnscious of the mys- 
tery which had taken place within her. Her love for her 
Saviour had taken away her sin, and she was beginning to live 
that new life in which sin has no part. Not yet was the old 
life completely dead. She had yet some years of life on earth 
to complete her purification But she was already reborn to a 
new life — a life of virginal innocence which, fostered by repen- 
tant tears, would grow and expand, whilst the old life would 
be entirely cast off. 

And in the consciousness of this new life of innocence, Mag- 
dalen could lift up her head again before the world, however 
much she sorrowed for the injury she had hitherto done her 
Lord and Master. Why should she be crushed and waste her 
life in ineffectual remorse? Christ *had given her a new hope 
and a new life. It was her part now to live the life he had 
given her. And so she did not fling herself away in hopeless 
shame, as many a woman has done. No ; in the strength of her 
new hope she arose and began to live again. 

"I must not scorn myself; He loves me still." In the 



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1903] 



The Magdalen of Cortona. 



329 




St. Margaret's Tomb. 

presence of Christ's great love for her, the Magdalen arose in 
new dignity. She had regained that self- reverence which is the 
condition of all virtuous effort. Christ loved her; why should 
she scorn herself? Here we have the secret of the restoration 
effected by the Gospel. It is in the knowledge that God's love 
endures and is real, that the sinner finds the energy and mo- 
tive to begin life anew; for if God still loves the sinner, why 
should the sinner despair ? 

So it was that Margaret the sinner became Margaret the 
saint, the child, and friend, and spouse of God. 



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330 THE MAGDALEN OF CORTONA. [June, 

Humbly conscious of her new dignity, she now set herself to 
save souls and broaden the kingdom of Christ on earth. Im- 
mediately after her reception into the Third Order of St. Fran- 
cis she drew to herself some companions and founded a hospi- 
tal for the sick poor, whom she served. But her chief work was 
in reclaiming sinners. After a time people came to her from 
far and near to seek her advice in the reformation of their 
lives. Margaret helped them with all the sympathy and pity 
which she had learned from our Lord's treatment of herself. 
When they were sufficiently prepared she sent them to the 
Franciscan Friars to be cohfessed. She also became the medium 
of communication between Jesus Christ and many religious souls. 
Thus, on several occasions she was inspired to guide the friars 
in their difficulties. She recalled a secular priest from a world- 
ly life, and acted as a sort of guardian angel to him till her 
death ; and on one occasion she prevailed upon a careless bishop 
to give more attention to his diocese. 

Needless to say that all these graces were accompanied by 
frequent crosses. Margaret quickly learned that no soul can 
live with Christ and yet not bear the burden of his cross. For 
Christ came to suffer for the remission of sin ; that was the 
central fact of his earthly life; and all who would be his must 
suffer with him to fill up the chalice of his suffering. Willing- 
ly did Margaret accept the cross; it was the pledge of her 
union with her Saviour. But beyond the trials which came to 
her from the hands of men — and more often from their tongues 
— she suffered much from the contemplation of our Lord's Pas- 
sion. She was accustomed to unite herself in spirit with the 
Blessed Virgin at the foot of the cross, and with her to gaze 
upon her suffering Lord, entering by love into his Sacred Heart 
and dwelling not only upon the outward tortures, but more still 
upon the interior agony — the vision of sin and its consequences, 
the loss of souls, the insult to God ; until her whole bodily 
frame quivered with the agony of her Saviour. One day our 
Lord asked her : " My child, dost thou love me ? " She an- 
swered : " Not only do I love thee. Lord, but, wouldst thou 
grant it, I would ask to be enclosed in thy very Heart." Our 
Lord replied : " If thou wouldst be enclosed in my Heart, thou 
must enter into my Wound of my Side." " O my Lord Jesus 
Christ ! " Margaret exclaimed, " were I in thy Heart, I should 
already be in the wound of thy side, in the wounds of- thy 



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1903.] The Magdalen of Cortona. 331 

hands and feet, in thy Crown of Thorns, in thy vinegar and 
gall." So it was that she would enter frequently into the Pas- 
sion of Christ, thus atoning for her own sin and for that of all 
sinners. 

As I have said, the history of St. Margaret of Cortona is 
but an extension of that of the Magdalen of the Gospels; and 
the Magdalen's story is the story of God's redeeming love. To 
the fallen it is a pledge of a new hope. But there is yet an- 
other lesson to be learned from it. We are all called by 
God to take part in the Divine Work of bringing sinners to 
repentance. But how shall we accomplish our vocation unless 
we learn from our Lord that sympathy for the weak, and 
that tenderness for the bruised, which he showed the Mag- 
dalen when he raised her up from guilt to sanctity ? It is the 
lack of this divine sympathy and tenderness which renders fruit- 
less so many well-intentioned efforts to reclaim the sinner. 
" The bruised reed he shall not break ; the smoking flax he 
shall not quench " — that is the inspired description of the Sav- 
iour of souls. 




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332 The Stone of the Lily. [June, 




THE STONE OF THE LILY. 

BY B. E. WADE. 

'HERE was but one way of making old Bassanio 
talk. You might coax until you were tired. 
He would but shake his head, and say : 

" What cares the stranger for an old man's 
story ? To the cold American it is but an idle 
tale, and as soon forgotten by him as old Bassanio himself." 

You might offer to exchange story for story with him. 

"Ah, Bassanio understands not the land over the sea," he 
would reply. "To him its people do not speak with the 
tongue he knows. He loves, his own hills best. His own blue 
sky is brighter with the merry sunshine that warms his old 
heart." 

I have known a curious traveller even to offer him coins for 
the sake of hearing him tell his remarlcable tale, and have seen 
him angrily fling them to the ground, exclaiming: 

" What wants Bassanio with thy money ? Do not his olive- 
trees ever give him of their fruit ? Does his garden ever for- 
get to yield him the lupins, the red tomatoes, and the little, 
sweet, green peppers he loves? Does not his field give of 
its grain? What more wants Bassanio, who has his sunny 
bench when it is warm, and plenty of coals for his little 
scaldino when the wind breathes hard upon the grassy hill- 
sides ? Bah ! " 

But there was one way of unlocking the store-house of 
that romantic brain, and this I discovered by accident. After- 
wards, I had only to employ the same means to send the light 
to his eye, and to loosen the spirit imprisoned somewhere with- 
in that dark, wrinkled frame. 

" Bassanio," I had said to him one day as I stood in his 
garden, helping him pick the small, sweet peppers for which 
my sister had taken a fancy, " your country has taken a strange 
hold upon me. It would not displease me to know that when 
I die I should be laid to rest beneath your bright, peaceful, 
flower-covered fields." 



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1903] The Stone of the Lily, 333 

" You love my land ? " he asked quickly. 

" Ah, yes, Bassanio," said I. " Would a man take a half- 
ruined villa for five years in a country he disliked, think 
you ? " 

" You are to live at Villa Grazzi, then ? " 

"For five years, at least, Bassanio." 

" Ah, but if you or the sister get weary of it ? " 

" Never ! " said I emphatically. ** That would be impos- 
sible." 

From the moment I showed my sympathy for all that de- 
lighted the old Italian, I lost all cause for complaint of his 
stubborn silence. He straightway forgot me, and I, him. 
Through his soul we both saw only the glories of the sunny 
field, and breathed together the breath of the distant hills. For 
us there was but the one interest in the world, and that what 
old Bassanio willed. 

" To-night," said he in a peculiarly intense whisper, as I at 
last reluctantly prepared to leave, — *' to-night thou wilt hear of 
Margherita of Grazzi " ; and, though I knew not why, I felt 
that the old man's words would come true. 

It was, therefore, no surprise to me, as I sat out in the 
moonlight on the marble steps, to receive a visit from Bas- 
sanio. I had bidden my sister good-night some time before, 
and had gone into the open air for a quiet smoke. While 
dreamily puffing at my cigar I felt a touch on my arm, and 
knew instinctively that he was my visitor. 

'* It is of Margherita of Grazzi thou art thinking," said he. 
" After to-night thou canst never get her from thy thoughts, 
and neither wilt thou desire to do so, even as old Bassanio 
must ever keep her in his mind. Come ! " 

It seemed but a natural thing to obey unquestioningly the 
resolute tone of this invitation, and, throwing aside the stump 
of my cigar, I arose and followed him. 

Silently he passed along the terrace and turned down the 
southern path leading to the garden; nor paused until he 
came out from the shade of the cypress-lined walk into that 
moonlight-flooded space allotted to the flowers and shrubs of 
Grazzi. Where a gap in the luxuriant foliage of the boundary 
permits, one looks out upon the beautiful city of Florence. 
To-night she lay sleeping in that tender, silvery light, her 
gfraceful campanile, the dome of her great cathedral, and her 
VOL. Lxxvii. — 22 

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334 THE STONE OF THE LiLY. [June, 

many shapely spires alone keeping watch, — alone striving to 
pierce the mystery of the night; while the Arno, at this dis- 
tance a mere glistening thread, flowed placidly on, content 
not to know that which is unrevealed. The view is one of 
which I never weary. Too far away, even in the searching 
light of the sun, to display any unattractive features, it re- 
mains always Florence, the ideal, by day, — Firenze, the fairy 
city, by night 

I did not wonder when Bassanio motioned me to a seat in 
this particular part of the garden. For a time naught but 
the soft splashing of the fountain near by, and the sleepy 
murmur of the night insects, broke the stillness, and then — 

** Here sat the gentle Margherita,** said Bassanio, "and 
here might now be sitting but for the chatter of a foolish 
maid. Since that day, now twenty years past, Bassanio's lips 
have been sealed, and none have heard why Margherita left 
Grazzi, or how she found her way down to the Florence she 
loved, and entered singing — the Florence where that song was 
hushed for ever. But Bassanio knows why, even now, the can- 
dle burns brightly in the passage beneath the Fountain of 
Nymphs. Altro ! 

** Eighteen times for Margherita had the blue lilies blos- 
somed in yonder fleld, and the little maiden was as fair and 
as pure as they. Count Marcello, her father, was ever light of 
heart when her merry laughter rang through the corridors, and 
smiled when of a morning she crept unheard behind him as he 
sat at his morning meal, and dropped a pink rose into the 
melon on his plate. 

'* The death of the good contessa had left these two alone 
in the world, and because they had only themselves, they 
thought the more of each other. It was for the sake of having 
her to himself that the count now spent each year at Villa 
Grazzi, and no more went to his palazzo in Venice when the 
season changed. Margherita was, therefore, much in solitude, 
for the count entertained no guests. Save her father and the 
women of the villa, she had none for company but Bassanio, 
and the creatures and flowers of the garden. When but a 
child she would say : 

** ' You are good to my flowers, Bassanio, and they love 
you. So, also, Margherita loves you.\ Then she would beg a 
new tale, and her father would find her with her head against 



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1903] t:^^ Stone of the Lily. 335 

Bassanio's rough coat, and would... tease ...her for her fondness 
for flowers that talked not, and for an old man's idle stories. 

" ' But the blossoms do speak to me, my father,* she would 
reply. ' Bassanio will tell the wonderful things they say, for 
he knows them all, and they love him.' 

" Then would Count Marcello shake his head, and, laughing, 
pass on, whispering as hje went: 

*• * Take ever such faithful care of the child, Bassanio, and 
thou shalt have thy full reward.' Yet did the count know, as 
well as I myself, that the loving watchfulness of Bassanio 
asked no reward but to be of service to the maiden he loved 
as his own. 

** So lived Margherita with the flowers and with the crea- 
tures of the garden, and they taught her their ways. The 
blossoms gave her of their sweetness and grace, and from them 
she learned to fashion her gowns. 

''To-day I am in blue for the lilies. Will they not like 
it ? * she would say. And again : " Now I am a scarlet poppy, 
Bassanio miOf and lightly would she dance down the paths, as 
bright as any blossom that lifted its head in the long rows. 
Sometimes it were a violet she copied, and quietly, in her pur- 
ple gown, would she follow me about, or sit in this her favor- 
ite spot, looking with almost longing eyes down to the city she 
had never entered. Next day the mood would change, and she 
would meet me with her head in air, and would gather her 
brilliant skirts about her mockingly, saying: 'Behold your 
proud Lady Cyclamen ! ' and even while Bassanio bent low in 
homage, would she forget her dignity to dart after a butterfly 
playfellow. 

*' After all, it was the creatures that taught her most. Mar- 
gherita had heard the women sing, but she cared naught for 
their songs. The birds were her masters, and smaller creatures 
gave her their gifts. In his lifetime Bassanio has heard many 
voices, but not one like that of Margherita, for men of the 
world cannot teach what she found in the garden of Grazzi. 
From the birds she learned how to trill, and to send forth 
clear, high tones as pure as theirs; and when she sang she 
lifted her head as does the bird itself It was the locust that 
showed her how to begin a long note softly, and to come 
crescendo^ to the full tone, and decrescendo^ to a mere breath 
again. Even the buzzing and gentle humming insects gave her 



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336 THE Stone of the Lily. [June, 

their knowledge, and from the grille^ the crickets that sing in 
the moonlight, she learned rhythm, and patience to try over 
and over without tiring what she already knew. 

"Often, in the sunny noon, would she mournfully cry, ' Pa-ve^ 
pa-ve,' and old Domenico, the peacock, would strut down the 
terrace spreading his tail, and echoing her call ; or, when the 
warm dusk had stolen over the garden, would Margherita make 
the cry of the lonesome owl, and each time was it answered by 
that sad little bird itself, off in a far-away cypress-tree. 

" Margherita had words to all of her songs, but they were 
not such as those the women of the villa sang. No; Mar- 
gherita sang in her own tongue what the creatures sing in 
theirs. She sang of the buds in the lily-fieldd, the bright sun- 
shine, the soft rain, the dew on the grass-blades, the purple 
mists on the distant hills, the blue sky, and the joy of living ; 
and when, as often she did, she came to the garden at break 
of day, even the contadini jogging along on the road outside 
would stop their mules, and pause till the song was ended; 
though they had to make up the lost time, and push the 
heavily-laden carts faster to the Mercato Vecchio. At the. 
evening hour, when they toiled slowly homeward, her voice 
made them forget the steepness of the way. 

"The last summer came. Count Marcello had said Mar- 
gherita had been long enough alone, and must go into the 
world to meet men and women of her station. He had given 
orders that his palazzo in Venice be put in order for their 
reception that winter, and Margherita was now under the care 
of the count's only sister, who had come to prepare her in the 
ways of noble people. No more did Margherita chase the 
butterflies, or tease old Domenico, the peacock. But she did 
not forget Bassanio, and often came to sit here, on this bench, 
and to talk about the flowers she was soon to leave. 

"*I could not bear it if thou wert not going with us, 
Bassanio mio,^ she would say. ' It is so bad to leave the 
flowers ! * — and she would sing her wonderful song — only now it 
told of the flight of birds, the drooping of blossoms, the wither- 
ing of grass-blades, the sleep of the butterflies, and the sorrow 
one hears at times in the wind. 

"Then came with her useless prattle to Margherita, one day, 
the idle Rinella, the maid of Count Marcello's sister. I heard 
them talking at the fountain yonder. 



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1903.] The Stone of the Lily. 337 

" ' It has been told me,* said Rinella, ' that under the Foun- 
tain of Nymphs one may go down even to the streets of 
Florence. It is a wonderful passage, if- one but knew how — ' 

" ' Hush thy miserable tongue, foolish one ! ' I cried, hur- 
rying quickly toward her, and, bidding her no more trouble 
Margherita with her evil tales, sent her trembling to her mistress. 

*' But the cunning Rinella did not forget the harsh words 
that stung her, and ever cast black looks upon Bassanio. Then 
came her revenge, for, in spite of Bassanio's watchfulness, she 
learned that secret which only the Counts of Grazzi, Rametti 
the goldsmith, and Bassanio himself,' had known — the secret of 
the Stone of the Lily. 

"How she found the hidden spring that loosens the great 
stone, who can tell? But with a heavy iron bar she was able 
to slide the block away from the opening, and when Bassanio, 
having it in mind to keep away the crafty Rinella, came to 
sleep on the bench in the moonlight, he saw the dark hole 
below the step? that lead up to the fountain. Ah, now it 
seemed that old Bassanio's heart did not thump, thump, for a 
time ; but when again he felt it, no mallet could pound harder ! 
Then Bassanio moved toward the villa, and found his old, iron 
garden -lamp. He must overtake his Margherita ere harm came 
to her in the passage, or she could stray into the city streets. 
And the girl, Rinella, should be taught that no good comes of 
a curious mind and a vengeful soul I 

"Bah! How the dark from the underground crept into 
Bassanio's brain ! How the lizards glistened along the sides of 
the rocks ! Then the light fell on something on the pathway — 
a rose-bud half drooping. None but Margherita wore the ten- 
der rose-buds. It was hers ! Bassanio must keep it in his hand 
and hurry onward, or the carina would lose her way ; and the 
night grew long, and ever longer. Now she would be afraid 
in the endless blackness I 

" Surely that was a light ahead — yes, two tapers in the dis- 
tance. Now they were gone; no, there they were again. 
Bassanio stumbled on a sharp stone, and his lamp went out. 
He must creep on his hands and knees. Would he never reach 
the lights ? Yes, the rose-bud would help him. He had not 
lost that. It loved her. He would bring her away from all 
the harm I 

"Bassanio remembers not how he came to the end, but 



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338 THE STONE OF THE LiLY. [June, 

when he opened his eyes he saw a light on high, and the face 
of the Madonna above. That must be the taper — Margherita's — 
and that the dear face of Margherita herself ! He would go to 
her. Ah, the pain ! Why would his foot not obey him ? 
Then he saw the faces of Rametti the goldsmith, and his wife, 
Maria ; but Maria was weeping, and would not be quieted when 
Bassanio asked for his Margherita. At last Rametti had bid 
her leave the room, and then, with the tears running, down his 
own cheeks, he had told all. 

" He had heard a noise in the night, and feared a thief was 
breaking the lock. But no, it was the inner door behind a 
curious grating that opened, and into the room stole two 
maidens. One pushed forward and unfastened the door into 
the via. The other eagerly followed, and they softly shut the 
door after them. Rametti was as one dumb. Then, throwing 
on his garments, he too had gone out into the via near the 
Ponte Vecchio. But now a song, as of a happy bird, filled the 
air. Rametti had never heard the like before ; but from a dif- 
ferent direction came a great noise, a mob of rioters' passed as 
Rametti drew back into the shadow of his doorway. The 
shouts grew louder, and of a sudden — ah, he could hardly tell 
it! — the song ceased with a sharp cry, and a maid from Villa 
Grazzi had grasped him by the arm, screaming into his ear 
that Margherita of Grazzi had been killed by the mob. And 
it was so ! He had seen the crowd fly in terror when they 
found that murder had been done, and then a bell pealed — the 
bell in Giotto's tower. Three times it sounded, and people, 
wakened by the rioters, shuddered and said, 'A death!' Then 
saw Rametti the black- masked brethren of the Misericordia. 
Slowly they approached, and passed on with their gentle bur- 
den. Margherita wag going home to the Villa Grazzi ! 

" Rametti heard Maria call^ and turned back into his shop 
at the moment when the grated door swung again on the 
hinges, and his friend, Bassanio, the gardener of Grazzi, fell 
nseless to the floor. 

*That is the end of the story of Margherita. Count Mar- 
never spoke from that night, and died some weeks later, 
anions fate was worse. His ankle soon grew strong. Death 
not, and the years pass! Of Rinella, some say that she 
mad and threw herself into the Arno. Bassanio knows 
Aliraf But so long as he lives shall the candle burn for 



k 



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1903.] The Stone of the Lily. 339 

Margherita in the dark, lonesome passage below. Thou shalt 
see ! " 

He rose, and beckoned. We stooped before the Stone of 
the Lily, and he pressed the spring. Then together, shoving 
back the huge weight, we descended a few steps. There in a 
niche was a lighted taper. I peered into the darkness of the 
tunnel. 

" Its history no man knows," said Bassanio. " Only the 
departed Counts of Grazzi can tell how, and why, the secret 
passage was made; but the laborers did their work well. It 
must have taken many years. The other opening no man can 
enter now. The count's sister paid Rametti much money to 
fill up its mouth, and to take away the grated door and make 
a solid wall. Rametti is dead, and Maria too. Only Bassanio 
knows, and thou, the secret of the Stone of the Lily." 

We carefully replaced the sculptured door and went back to 
the bench. 

** When I am gone," said Bassanio, '* take thou this " ; and 
he brought forth a small metal box of Rametti's workmanship. 
He removed the cover, and I beheld a withered flower — the 
rose-bud dropped by Margherita! 

My sister laughs at me for purchasing Villa Grazzi. *' I 
love it," say I, when she persists in asking a reason. But far 
more would she wonder if she knew how each night I steal 
underneath the Fountain of Nymphs, to place my candle be- 
side that of Bassanio, and then return to that spot in the 
moonlight where a dark form whispers: 

" To-night thou wilt hear of Margherita ! " 




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340 DOCTOR ELGAR'S '' DREAM OF GERONTIUS.*' [June, 



DOCTOR ELGAR'S "DREAM OF GERONTIUS/' 

BY AN URSULINE. 

;HE recent advent of Dr. Elgar's oratorio is and 
should be a matter of interest to Catholics for 
very special and obvious reasons. It is in every 
sense a Catholic work. The composer himself 
is a devout Catholic, with a decided tendency 
to mysticism. 

The poem he has set to music ranks as perhaps the most 
distinctly Catholic of any verse in any language, excluding the 
Divine Comedy, with which it has indeed been classed, and by 
no less balanced a judgment than the late Mr. Gladstone's. It 
is, as every one knows, an epitome of the church's doctrine and 
liturgy regarding the d6ath-bed scene and judgment of a Catho- 
lic Christian. The music stands at every point in perfect keep- 
ing with its subject. Mr. Elgar, when a child, sat Sunday after 
Sunday in the organ-loft of St. George's Roman Catholic church, 
Worcester, where his father had been organist for the long 
period of thirty-seven years. Subtly, the spirit of the grand 
old church music and liturgy was instilled into the boy. In 
1885 he succeeded his father as organist of this church, retain- 
ing the post for four or five years, during which time he wrote 
several masses and a number of voluntaries. He said once : " The 
poem has been soaking in my mind for at least eight years. 
All that time I have been gradually assimilating the thoughts 
of the author into my musical promptings " ; with what success 
let Herr Max Hehemann, of Essen, a great musical critic and 
an admirer of Mr. Elgar, decide: 

" The strange world-removed tone of the poem is marvel- 
lously reproduced. The yearning of the dying for the beyond 
has rarely been clothed in tones more devotional or moving, and 
rarely has the dread sublimity of Death's majesty been depicted 
with greater boldness or more majestic awesomeness." 

Mr. Elgar's achievement has brought to the notice of the 
general public, and rendered suddenly popular, Cardinal New- 
man's poem, so long dear to the hearts of a happy few. The 
leader of one of our festival choruses, who is at present training 



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1903.] Doctor Elgar's ''Dream of Gerontius:' 341 

for an early production of the new oratorio, states that he has 
never had such a revelation of the Catholic view of things, es- 
pecially pertaining to death and the life beyond, as has come 
upon him through this work. His is probably one out of hun- 
dreds of similar experiences. It will be an awakening to many 
minds. 

The poem has been highly appreciated these thirty- odd 
years, but yet many have not come into touch with it, not- 
withstanding that such a critic as Mr. Richard Holt Hutton 
sonre years ago pronounced it one of the most unique and ori- 
ginal poems of the nineteenth century, and Dr. Jaeger assures 
us that he knows h^lf a dozen composers of some eminence 
who have at one time or another intended to set it to music. 

Cardinal Newman is said to have composed the Dream' of 
Gerontius " in great grief after the death of a dear friend." It 
was written at the age of sixty-five, and made its first appear- 
ance in a 32mo booklet, anonymous excepting for the initials 
J. H. N. signed at the foot of the Latin dedication to " Fratri 
D isideratissimo Joanni Joseph Gordon." 

To Mr. Hutton it is the core of Newman's faith, and he 
cannot sufficiently praise it. " Especially," he writes, " does it 
impress upon us one of the great secrets of his influence, for 
Newman has been a sign to this generation that unless there is 
^ great deal of the loneliness of death in life, there can hardly 
be much of the higher equanimity of life in death." 

The poem is a psychological drama in seven parts, unevenly 
divided as to matter, but balancing its lack of symmetry in 
length by a pregnant content in the shorter parts. Each sec- 
tion, with the exception of the third, contains a distinct dramatic 
effect, strongly marked, stamping the scene as individual, and 
carrying a profound appeal of its own. In section^first there is, 
behind the struggling of the soul of Gerontius, with its fears 
and terrors, the solemn and beautiful chanting of the prayers of 
the church. It has the effect of the low, calm voice of a mo- 
ther sustaining the anguish of her child, and yet it expresses 
the sublimity of the might of faith, upholding the weakness of 
human frailty and ignorance. Even when simply read aloud the 
dramatic beauty of this scene is very striking, and goes to prove 
how Newman realized that the dramatic art itself is based upon 
the very core of life. The climax is reached in those sublime 
words of the priest which Catholics hear again and again at the 



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342 Doctor Elgar's " Dream of Gerontius:' [June, 

bedsides of their dying friends, words the most comforting, 
the most awful : 

" Profiscere, anima Christiana, de hoc mundo ! 
Go from this world ! Go, in the Name of God 
The omnipotent Father, who created thee ! 
Go, in the Name of Jesus Christ, our Lord, 
Son of the Living God, who bled for thee ! 
Go, in the Name of the Holy Spirit, who 
Hath been poured out on thee ! Go, in the name 
Of Angels and Archangels. 

Go on thy course; 
And may thy place to-day be found in peace. 
And may thy dwelling be the Holy Mount 
Of Sion : — through the Name of Christ, our Lord." 

This is the cry of final triumph from the Church Militant. 
In part second we have the soul drifting in abysmal space, 
bewildered with its own identity and the realization of change. 
The song of an unseen angel comes floating by, "a heart- 
subduing melody," announcing the glad tidings of his mission 
accomplished : 

" My work is done. 
My task is o'er. 
And so I come 
Taking it home ; 
For the crown is won. 
Alleluia, 
For evermore. 

So ecstatic is the song that Gerontius realizes 

"... had I part with earth 
I never could have drunk those accents in, 
And not, have worshipped as a god the voice 
That was so musical." 

This scene in its rare ethereal quality is a fittrng relief for 
the grave, solemn subject of. the death- bed. 

In part third Gerontius addresses the angel. There is no 
need of an exterior element to enhance the importance of the 
scene. The unique interest attending upon the personalities of 
an angel and a disembodied spirit is too vital to allow of dis- 



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1903.] Doctor Elgar's " Dream of Gerontius}' 343 

traction. We hang breathless upon the questions of Gerontius 
and the revelations of the heavenly being, from that profoundly 
sweet reassurance, 

" You cannot now cherish a wish which ought not to be wished," 

through their discussion of the principle of time, the serenity 
of the soul's strange new poise, and the impending judgment 
Our imagination is too busy taking in the wonders of this 
situation, our sympathies too alert in the new light upon this 
subject, so mysterious, yet so familiar to every thinking being. 
But in part four the- speculative yields once more to sense- 
eflFects. The cries and dismal jargon of demons are heard, not 
with the result of terrifying the soul, but with a preternatural 
urgency of that evil note which must enter into every drama, 
if it be human. Newman himself has said, " You cannot have 
a sinless literature of sinful humanity." The fiendish laughter 
aflFrights not the soul, remote and high, nor does it interrupt 
the sweet accents of the angel, who goes on to explain what 
takes the place of the senses in the soul- world : 

" It is the restless panting of their being. 
Like beasts of prey, who, caged within their bars. 
In a deep hideous purring have their life. 
And in incessant pacing to and fro." ^ 



•- ".f 



The hideousness of the demon scene is set off drafnatically 
by the most exquisite flight of poetical imagination, the choirs 
of angelicals, the beauty of which Gerontius depicts thus: 

" The sound is like the rushing of the wind. 
The summer wind among the lofty pines; 
Now here, now distant, wild and beautiful." 

Cardinal Newman conceives the heavenly structure as con- 
stituted of angelic beings, the doors, the lintels, frieze and cor- 
nices, the stairs of the justice-seat, all giving out the most 
ravishing and mysterious harmonies, as the Soul and its guid- 
ing spirit pass up to the judgment hall. 

The sixth scene is the momentous judgment. In it we have 
a focussing of all the influences that characterized preceding 
stages. 

^ The echoes from earth of the* prayers for the dying, the 
Subvenite of the priest, make us realize once more that it is a 



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344 DOCTOR ELGAR'S " DREAM OF GERONTIUS.*' [June, 

human drama, and bring us back to the human point of view 
of uncertainty and dread and fear, with a glimpse behind the cur- 
tain of faith as a grasping of the substance of things unseen. 

The pleading of the great Angel of the Agony brings home 
to us the fact that the doom of each human soul is at every 
repetition the re-enacting of Calvary's drama, the re- weighing 
and gauging of the Precious Blood of Jesus Christ Could a 
finer eflFect be conceived in poetry than the utter silence and 
hidden majesty of that tribunal, the echoes of human woe and 
supplication, and the simple sublimity of that pleading voice of 
the Angel of the Agony? 

" Jesu ! by that shuddering dread which fell on Thee : 
Jesu ! by that cold dismay that sickened Thee : 
Jesu ! by that sense of guilt which stifled Thee : 
Jesu ! by that sanctity that reigned in Thee : 
Jesu ! spare these souls which are so dear to Thee ! " 

In the last scene, which is brief, the dramatic effect is 
scored by the chanting of the Souls in Purgatory, as the angel 
leads his charge to the gates and bids him a tender adieu. 

Thus, from the moment we comprehend the opening situa- 
tion of the drama to the closing line, the movement is absorb- 
ing, the artistic effects powerful. It has all the verve of an 
action of mortal life with the infinite imaginative scope and 
suggestiveness of the spiritual, together with the clinching force 
of a subject-matter which, if any ever did, participates in 
"the eternal, the infinite, and the one." It is a drama pro- 
jected with immortality for its stage, man for its actor, eternity 
and space for its unities, and the balance of heaven or hell for 
its catastrophe. What more stupendous in conception ? 

There is an understanding that the author himself believed 
it to be adapted to musical treatment and that he broached the 
subject to no less a musician than Dr. Dvorak, who thought it 
was not sufficiently dramatic for his genius. Mr. Elgar has 
unlocked the treasure. It is the opinion of Theodore Thomas 
that this is the most important oratorio of recent times, not 
excepting Brahms' Requiem. " I would like to add," he 
recently said to a New York reporter, "that I do not place 
Elgar on the same plane with Brahms in the art world. Elgar 
has- still to make his record. .' Nevertheless, Gerontius is a lofty 
work, and from a technical point of view, more masterly than 



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1903.] Doctor Elgar's ''Dream of Gerontius:' 345 

Brahms ever dreamed of. It is by far the most important and 
satisfying modem work written for voices and orchestra." Such 
an estimate from such a source carries a value stamped updn 
its face. Any one who is interested in a thematic study of 
the work will find absorbing material in Dr. Jaeger's careful 
Ana^sis, published by Novello, New York and London. 

^he score is perhaps the fullest and most complicated in 
modern music, being written for a very large orchestra, twenty 
varieties of instruments not counting the strings, which are 
occasionally divided into fifteen or eighteen parts. It is a mag- 
nificent example of the inductive method in musical composi- 
tion, for Mr. Elgar wrote, not from a profound study of the 
canons of orchestration but from forty years' experience in the 
practical handling of the instruments themselves, which taught 
him every subtlety of timbre and enabled him to conceive his 
harmonies imaginatively in their various individual tone* color- 
ings. He played a number of different instruments himself, 
and directed small orchestras, coaching and training young 
players in a way that could not fail to bring him minute 
knowledge of the technique and musical powers of wood-wind, 
strings and horns. As a writer in the musical Times remarks : 
"There is a great deal more in the cultivation of this tone- 
color in music than most people realize; for," he goes on to 
say, "when Elgar conceives a certain phrase, he instinctively 
feels the double association of the melody and the instrument 
that is to play it, the colorable conception of the theme and 
its absolute fitness for a particular instrument." 

It is on this very point that the marvellous beauty of. his 
composition is based. He is a poet- musician and he speaks in 
nuances, A very fine instance of this is shown in the Prelude, 
which foreshadows the poem in miniature. At the point where 
the transition is made from Gerontius' earthly existence to his 
dissolution, and the beginning of his spirit-life, there is a great 
hush throughout the orchestra, followed by a thrilling of arpeg- 
gios on the harp, then a short moan repeated three times by 
the first violins, after which comes a chord for muted horns, 
clarinet, and English horns, sounding above a drum- roll; then 
a vibrato stroke on a gong. Gerontius is dead. Could any- 
thing be more exquisitely imagined ? Again the poetical in 
music reveals itself at the opening of the Chorus of An- 
gelicals, when the harps, violins and flutes, ^\n thirty- second 



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34^ DOCTOR ELGAR'S " DREAM OF GER0NTIUS:\ [June, 

notes give a peculiar fluttering effect as of countless angels' 
wings, whereupon the Song of Praise to the Holiest in the 
Heights is announced by certain voices, and the chorus join in 
suddenly with the one mighty word " Praise ! " uttered in 
crescendo and sudden decrescendo ; " as if/* suggests Dr. Jaeger, 
"the gates of heaven had opened and swung to again" upon 
a burst of ravishing melody. The more one studies the score 
of this really magnificent work, the more consummate does its 
artistry appear, and the poor musician upon whom "the lights 
o' London town " refused to shine is become a living figure in 
the broader world of thought which sooner or later concedes 
its laurels, and that discriminatingly. 

The " Leit motif," as wiU be seen in the analysis, is a very 
pronounced characteristic of his work, and is in every case of 
strong originality and direct suggestiveness. The theme that 
enters the orchestra whenever the thought of death itself occurs 
directly in the libretto is singularly beautiful. Some one, in 
order to test its intellectual quality, played it over four or five 
times for a young girl of some musical appreciation, with the 
injunction that she was to decide which of the following con- 
cepts it seemed associated with : fear, joy, death, love, 
solemnity, surprise, prayer or hope. The verdict was " death, 
unmistakable." 

The opening lines of Gerontius* part are full of pathos. 
There is the tremulousness peculiar to that point where con- 
fidence and fear diverge; there are the helplessness of the 
human and the tenderness of an appeal to those two names of 
early experience, "Jesu! Maria!" "Jesus! Mary!" lisped, in 
the first great straits of life, at the mother's knee. 

When the priest says "Go forth, Christian soul," the music 
resolves itself into one masterful cry in C major, heralded by 
the orchestras and uttered by the voices FFF in unison. It is 
the paean of Faith, the redeemed human race yielding back to 
God in triumph its fruit, "sustained and soothed by an un- 
faltering trust." 

Each motif is lovely, and true in thought and emotion. 
The demon-chorus is stupendous, unparalleled amongst modern 
composers, defying anything but a profound dissertation to give 
an adequate idea of it. 

The cry of the Angel of the Agony, so affecting in the 
poem itself, is reinforced in the music by a strain that is deeply 



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1903.] Doctor Elgar's '• Dream of Gerontius:' 347 

appealing. And the guardian angel's final song is indescribably 
joyous and pathetic all in one, as he consigns the fainting soul 
to Purgatory's chastening fires. 

Those eight years in which the poem had been steeping 
itself in a musician's genius proved to be fertile years. It 
seems a copy was given to Dr. Elgar in 1889 as a wedding 
present, by Father Knight of Worcester, at the time when Dr. 
Elgar was organist in that church. Father Knight had intro- 
duced into its pages the markings inserted by the famous 
General Gordon in his copy, and the young composer took 
great interest in the portions of the poem that had attracted the 
great hero. 

It is amusing to hear that these same underscorings of 
General Gordon were the cause of quite a flurry a few years 
ago amongst some pious Protestants in this country, one of 
whom took the trouble to write to General Gordon's sister, 
Mrs. Moffitt of Southampton, to make sure that he had never 
approved of the poem as a whole and had marked nothing 
contrary to his Protestant beliefs. The results of the investiga- 
tion were published as a vindication of the great general. 
Bless the good soul ! As if those very lines, purgatory not- 
withstanding, would not have appealed to any man who set 
himself bravely to face the consummate issue of life ! There 
seems to be, in a small measure, some similar anxiety now lest 
Mr. Elgar should prove to be too thoroughly in harmony with 
the Catholic spirit of the work. 

The musical critic of the New York Tribune states that in 
the setting there are more than four hundred lines of the poem 
omitted for abridgment, '* and also," he adds, *' it would ^seem at 
times in order to get rid of passages which, ho>^vep acceptable 
to the Roman Catholic clergy, would scarcely fhmt the approval .» 
of the laity, and certainly not that of ^tiy element of ProtAst- 
antdom." Our critic recognizes the^ necesai^y of curUmin^. the 
fifth hymn of the angelicals, " but," e^)^ns he, witlt astute and 
meaning gravity, " it was not this need ^ %lq^ which led him 
to eliminate the fourth sectib^^ which contains a stanA, like- 

this: -'.-V." 

" ' As though a thing who for his ivelp 
Must needs possess a wife 



Could cope with those proud r>pbel hosts 
Who had angelic life ? ' " 



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348 DOCTOR ELGAR'S " DREAM OF GERONTIUSr [June, 

Fortunately Mr. Elgar was less short-sighted than his de- 
fender, so was able to discover the not very obscure sense of 
the fourth chorus. Could it be possible that our hurried news- 
paper man saw in it a plea for celibacy ? It is evident that 
the musician recognized its true significance : a chorus of angels 
quoting the sneers of demons against man, who, as a being of 
flesh, earthly, stood, in a sense, inferior to themselves, who 
were all spirit. To those who are not quite so pressed for 
time it is easy to see that Mr. Elgar deliberately set aside this 
chorus because its substance and point, namely, the triumph of 
humanity over the demons through the Incarnation of the Son 
of God, is more succinctly contained in the next one: 

" O wisest love ! that flesh and blood 
Which did in Adam fail. 
Should strife afresh against the foe, 
* Should strive and should prevail." 

There is another misconception in some minds which this 
time regards the poem itself, namely, the inference drawn 
without warrant from the title, that it is all a dream. There is 
no hint in the biography of Cardinal Newman to explain the 
title, but to almost all Catholic interpreters it is simply an 
assumption to cover the poetical liberties that are taken with 
th^e subject. The Protestant reviewers, from Mr. Hutton down, 
seem imbued with the idea that the title is literal, whereas any 
Catholic would see at a reading that it is all the embodiment 
of what he has been taught from his cradle up. When Geron- 
tius " fain would sleep," it is the ordinary lethargy of illness, 
and his dissolution comes in a lapse of consciousness. To a 
Catholic there is no dream about it. The substance of the 
poem is to him the actuality of death, solemn, awful, but con- 
soling. And the rites for the dying he has read from his Vade 
Mecum, and heard time and again at the bedside of his dear 
ones. Gerontius is not " a mediaeval personage," not a saint, 
not necessarily a priest; he is a dying Catholic such as he 
was in the fifth century, the tenth, or is in the twentieth. 
And Mr. Elgar has comprehended him luminously. 



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1903.] In a Breton Convent. 349 



IN A BRETON CONVENT. 

NOW EMPTIED BY FRENCH LA W, 
BY ANNA SEATON SCHMIDT. 

ipILL you go with me to visit my sick people, 
mademoiselle? See, I have my pockets filled 
with good things." Pretty Sister Catherine 
laughed merrily at our exclamations of surprise 
over the number of her treasures. Surely there 
never were such capacious pockets as those of the Sisters at 
Penmarc*h ! As we walked through the fields the children 
stopped their work and ran to beg something from their con- 
tents. 

"But we are going to visit the sick. You would not take 
from them ? Here 's a pear for you, Marie Jeanne, and an apple 
for Marie Louise. How is the baby this morning, Marie Kenig ? 
Oh ! you have him with you. Look, mademoiselle, that is our 
little Jean Marie asleep on the ground." 

" Will he not catch cold ? " we anxiously inquired. 

"Dear no ; all the babies sleep on the warm, soft earth while 
their mothers work in the fields." 

It was a beautiful summer morning. Far out at sea the 
blue waves danced in the sunshine, chasing each other to the 
shore, where they dashed their white spray high against the 
rocks. On our right were green fields filled with peasants in 
gay Breton costumes. " Do the women and children always 
work in the'fields, or only during the harvesting?" 

" But the ground must first be ploughed and the seed sown, 
mademoiselle ! " 

"Yes, but in our country the men do that." 

"And at what do the women work?" 

" Oh, they stay at home and cook for the men ! " 

"But that is very hard, mademoiselle. It is so much nicer 
to be out of doors. When I was a girl I loved to work in the 
fields, and now the bonne Mere permits me to take charge of 
our garden. We raise many potatoes." 

" Do you never grow tired of eating them ? " 

VOL. LXXVII«»23 

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3 so In A Breton Convent. [June, 

"Then what should we eat, mademoiselle? We are too 
poor to buy meat or fish. With bread and milk and potatoes 
one can live quite well." 

While Sister Catherine ministered to her sick in Kerity, we 
walked out on the pier to watch the fishing boats come in. 
Many had landed that morning. The catch had been a large 
one, and the happy fishermen were lounging about watching the 
new arrivals, each with a baby in his arips. The little white- 
capped heads rested lovingly against the weather-beaten cheeks of 
these rough, uncouth men, whose first thought on landing had 
been of home and children. They saw that we were admiring 
their babies and that we had a kodac. Being Bretons, they were 
too reserved to ask us to take their photographs, but it was 
plain that each fisherman thought his child a splendid subject ! 
We could not resist a few snap shots, and as they turned out 
well we decided to present the photographs to the proud fathers. 
Not knowing the sailors* names, Sistef Catherine offered to go 
over* with us and find the owners. What excitement in Kerity ! 
Every man, woman, and child in the village crowded about us. 
Each photograph had to be held aloft for inspection. Shouts 
of joy greeted the recognition of the babies. 

The Bretons bear little resemblance to the Parisians except 
in this national characteristic of adoration for their children. A 
man must be very drunk indeed to abuse his child, as was un- 
fortunately too often the case with the father of Marie Chiffon,* 
a little girl in whom we became deeply interested. The first 
time that we saw her she was standing motionless in the hot, 
dusty road. In one hand she held her wooden shoes, the other 
was folded across her breast. Her head, in its large Breton 
bonnet, was reverently bowed, while she murmured strange 
words in her queer Gaelic tongue. 

'* She is begging," said Margaret. "They never ask for 
anything in Brittany; they just stand still and pray aloud for 
their benefactors until some one gives them food or money." 

As we approached to put some pennies in the child's hand, 
she raised her head and met our eyes with the furtive, startled 
gaze of a wild beast. It was terrible to see such a look on a 
human face — above all, that of a little child. She could not 
understand one word of French, and we were unable to find 
out to whom she belonged until our return to the convent. 

• A nickname given her on account of her ragged clothes. 



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•903] 



In a Breton Convent. 



351 




Coming from Church in Penmarc'h.— By E. Noursb. 



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352 In a Breton Convent. [June, 

" It must have been Marie CI^" said Sister Othilde. " Her 
mother died when she was a baby, leaving a boy but little 
older than Marie. The poor husband was wild with grief. To 
forget his sorrow he began to drink and has gone from bad to 
.worse. Now, when not at sea, he is drunk, and often beats 
the poor children cruelly. Marie is but six, yet he makes her 
beg on the public road with her brother. If they return at 
night empty-handed, they know what is in store for them. 
Sometinies they wander off for weeks at a time, sleeping in 
the fields rather than face their angry father. My heart aches 
whenever I think of them"; and little Sister Othilde's blue 
eyes filled with tears. 

A few days later we came upon the same queer-looking 
child. She was trudging along, the tears streaming down her 
brown cheeks and trickling off the end of her freckled little 
nose. At the sound of our voices she threw herself on the 
ground, sobbing violently. 

** I cannot stand this," exclaimed the artist. " Something 
must be done for the child " ; and gathering her up in her 
strong young arms, she started for the convent. Startled by 
such abrupt proceedings, Marie lay quite still, crying softly 
until we reached the door; then, terrified probably by the 
thought that she was again to be beaten, she leaped from the 
artist's arms and darted towards the gate, where Sister Cather- 
ine caught her. She fought like a wild animal for her free- 
dom, and it was some time before the good sister could soothe 
her sufficiently to make her understand that we were her 
friends. 

" She says that she has had nothing to eat since yester- 
day morning, and that her father beat her most terribly last 
night because she had no money. Her brother ran away; 
she has been searching for him all morning." 

While the sister gave her food, we went to talk over the 
situation with the Mother Superior. "We will gladly do all 
that we can, mes c hires demoiselles^ but we are very poor; any 
day the government may deprive us of our small income. We 
dare not increase our expenses. If the child will come to 
school we will look after her and give her something to eat. 
She has an aunt in the next village with whom she can stay." 
So it was arranged ; Marie was to come to school, her aunt 
agreeing to receive her into her home. 



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1903.1 IN A BRETON Convent. 353 

Sister Catherine knew a Icind-hearted woman who kept a 
little store in Kerity. She was sure of getting enough material 
from her to make Marie a Sunday dress. We took up a col- 
lection, and started the good sister off to beg what she could 
and buy what she must for a new outfit. This was followed 
by a merry sewing bee. 

Perhaps my readers think that we made the new clothes 
after the simplest possible patterns. Not at all. Marie Chiffon 
must be dressed in the costume of the village from whence 
she came. So sacred are the traditions of Brittany that even 
the dear sisters were horrified at our suggestion to dispense 
with the bustle and long, heavy underskirts to which the poor 
child was condemned ! But even the elaborate clothes of a 
Breton peasant must yield to the nimble fingers of a dozen 
seamstresses, and by Sunday Marie was no longer Marie 
Chiffon but Marie pe fichet!* Alas! Monday came, but no 
little girl. On Thursday we were driving in a distant village 
and found Marie begging with her brother, the new clothes in 
a sad plight, owing to the fact of her having slept in the open 
fields. The boy ran away as we approached, and Marie gladly 
climbed into our wagon. When questioned as to her long ab- 
sence, she said that Jean had persuaded her to run away with 
him. The next week Marie again failed to appear, and we 
realized that it was impossible to rescue her from a life of 
vagabondage unless she remained as a pensionnaire with the 
sisters. 

'* If some one would pay even two dollars a month we 
could keep her," said the good mother. 

We promised that the " some one " should be found, and 
Marie was installed as a boarder at two dollars a month I The 
only drawback was poor Jean. He refused to be comforted 
for the loss of his small playfellow, and for days hung about 
the place trying to coax her away. It seemed cruel to sepa- 
rate them, but such a life has only one ending for a girl in 
France, and the boy was so wedded to his roving existence 
that nothing could tempt him to renounce it. School he re- 
garded as a place of bondage and work as slavery. Sorrow- 
fully we resigned poor little Jean to his fate, and tried to 
console ourselves with the marvellous transformation wrought in 
Marie. Day by day the hunted, animal look disappeared ; she 

^ Pefichet (Breton), to be dressed in fine clothes. 



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354 IN A Breton Convent. [June, 

grew round and rosy, her childish face fairly beamed with 
happiness. Her devotion and gratitude to the dear sisters was 
really pathetic. 

A recent letter from Penmarc'h says : " Marie pe fichet prays 
for you daily. She has learned to read and speaks French 
fluently.* She will soon write you a little letter to tell you 
herself how fast she can knit, and how many pairs of stockings 
she has made. She is our most loving and industrious pupil." 

Dear sisters! how many of God's little ones have they 
not rescued from a life of degradation. They are the guardian 
angels of Penmarc*h and its surrounding villages. Not only do 
these nine women teach several hundred girls in the public 
school, nurse the sick and feed the poor; they are their physi- 
cians and dentists! How we used to laugh at pretty little 
Sister Othilde when trying to persuade a stalwart peasant to 
permit her to pull his aching tooth ! 

The government allowed the sisters a small yearly income 
for these services. In addition they had a private kindergarten 
for children too young to attend the public schools. Day pupils 
paid twenty cents a month, and pensionnaires one dollar ! The 
latter often arrived in the arms of their mothers, their fathers 
carrying bags of potatoes and huge loaves of bread. These 
were carefully placed on a high shelf in the kitchen, which was 
divided by notches. Each division was marked with a pupil's 
name. In this way the sister who prepared the bread and 
potato soup knew when each child's provisions were exhausted. 
The parents then brought a new supply. 

Every afternoon the babies in the kindergarten had to take 
a nap. To lie down in their elaborate costumes is out of the 
question, to undress and dress them requires a serious expendi- 
ture of time and patience. One of the sisters would take fifteen 
or twenty to a shady part of the garden, place them in a row 
on a low bench, lay their little heads on one slightly higher 
and say, ** Go to sleep, like good children." In two minutes 
every small child would be in the land of Nod ! Never have I 
seen such angelic infants: they needed no discipline except 
that of love, and ' disobedience was unknown. Otherwise it 
would have been impossible for the sisters to take charge of a 
hundred small children in addition to all their other duties. In 
spite of their hard work they were the happiest, gayest little 
sisters in the world. 



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1903.] In a Breton Convent. 355 

Daughters of Wisdom (Filles de la Sagesse), they had learned 
the secret of contentment, and the summer that we spent with 
them in the old convent of Penmarc'h will long remain a bright 
spot^n our memories. Very poor, they, lived with the utmost 
simplicity, eating the coarsest peasant food. They had never 
taken boarders, and when we arrived, begging for shelter, they 
were frightened at the thought of providing for; people from " la 
grande monde." 

"We cannot live with the peasants, dear mother; you your- 
self say that it would be impossible ; and stay in Penmarc'h we 
must — our future success depends on the pictures we mean to 
paint in this wonderful place. If you turn us off, what are we 
to do ? " 

When they finally yielded we each insisted on paying three 
francs (sixty cents) a day for our board. This they regarded 
as exorbitant. At meal- time the little mother would flutter 
around, anxiously inquiring if Sister Polixene had provided 
liberally for our table. "You know that they p^y us a large 
sum ; you must give them the best that our village provides and 
send by the courrier to Pont TAbbaye for anything they desire." 

On our fete ♦ days the garden was stripped of flowers, and 
Sister Polixene never failed to make a large cake in our honor. 
Now, cake- making was not her strong point, and how to dispose 
of it was an ever- recurring problem. Of course we could gener- 
ously send half of it to the dear sisters, whose digestions rivalled 
the far-famed ostrich, and to whom any change from potato 
soup was a great treat. But the other half ! Under the watch- 
ful eye of Sister Polixene it was most difficult to secrete even 
a small piece in our napkins. Then we must carry it miles to 
give it to some child whom the good sisters would not be 
likely to meet. 

When la bonne Mere's fete arrived we planned a grand cele- 
bration. Poems were to be read, flowers presented, and each 
sister was to contribute some small gift. We dressed in our 
best clothes to do her honor. What excitement they caused! 
The whole community was in a flutter ! *' Come and see, dear 
mother ! " " Yes, it is silk, real silk, not half cotton ! " " And 
lace — a whole waist made only of lace and ribbon ! *' Though 
they were well educated, all had been peasants before joining 
the sisterhood and their ideas of fashion were extremely limited. 

* In France the saint's day for whom you are named is kept instead of your birthday. 



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3S6 IN A BRETON CONVENT, [June, 

"This afternoon we give the little ones their prizes. Mon- 
sieur le Cur^ and all the parents are to be present. Will you 
not go over ? " The kindergarten was in a new building across 
the fields. Foreseeing, troublous times in France, the sisters 
wisely erected this house as a place of refuge. Not being in 
their name, the property cannot be confiscated by the state. 

We found the children seated on an impromptu stage that 
rose tier upon tier to the ceiling. The babies sat on the lower 
benches fast asleep, their little heads resting calmly on the 
shoulders of their sleeping companions. They had to be wakened 
to receive their prizes from Monsieur le Cur^. Then each child 
must be crowned by his father or mother. Such a lifting of 
fat babies over our heads, to be passed along by willing hands 
and crowned and embraced by their parents ! Nonic, aged four, 
was the hero of the occasion. From the six velvet streamers 
on his round, felt hat to the buttons and yellow embroidery on 
his black vest he was a comical replica of his six-foot father. 
This was his first appearance in the clothes of a "grown up," 
and his mind was so occupied with bis own importance that he for- 
got his lines in the pretty little play which followed. The honors 
were carried ofF by two small g^rls whose powers of impersona- 
tion were truly remarkable. Many of the children' displayed 
surprising intelligence, and their ability to memorize was phe- 
nomenal. During vacation a number of the smaller children re- 
mained with the sisters. 

It was a busy time with the peasants, and mothers were glad 
to have their little ones cared for while they worked in the fields. 
"They are to have the threshing at Anna Marie's to-morrow; 
would mademoiselle wish to look on ? " A threshing machine 
was a recent innovation in Penmarc'h; the poorer farmers still 
used their old-fashioned flails, and we were delighted at the 
opportunity of watching this picturesque process. When we 
arrived the yard was filled with neighboring peasants. The 
women and girls were armed with long sticks; with these they 
beat or flayed the wheat. Others caught it as it fell from the 
flails, tossing it from one to another, shaking out the grain — 
then into golden piles which the men gathered on long poles 
and carried on their backs to stack high against the blue sky. 
It was a wonderful picture, full of color and movement and 
life — the dear, patient peasants, so hot, so tired, so smiling! 

All day long they worked. The moon came up; still they 



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I903.] 



/A A Breton Convent. 



357 




Children of Penmarch.— By E. Noursb. 



labored on, ghostlike in its silver light : the girls tossing the 
yellow straw ; the men, long, phantom figures, carrying it higher 
and higher toward the moonlit sky. 

When the harvesting was over the sisters had their grand 
lessive^ or quarterly wash. As they take charge of the church 



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3s8 In a Breton Convent, TJune, 

linen, they are obliged to wait until the peasants can assist 
them. The clothes were carried to a distant stream. Bare- 
footed, the sisters stood in the water, or knelt on the surround- 
ing rocks. Dipping the linen in the water, they pounded it with 
flat wooden paddles against the stones. A fire was kindled to 
make the boiling lye which dripped over the clothes during the 
night. For three days they were up and away before dawn, 
happy to be out in the fields, laughing and joking ais though 
they were on a picnic instead of condemned to hard labor! I 
doubt if they would care for our most approved labor-saving 
laundry machines if they kept them indoors. When the snowy 
piles were returned to the convent we all assisted in folding 
them down for the ironing, which occupied the remainder of 
the week. The sheets and towels were mangled. For the 
starched clothes they had immense irons, eacff 'containing a 
small fire made of charcoal. From time to time the sparks 
flew out and burned round holes in the linen, but the sisters 
only laughed. 

"We burned a new altar cloth last year. Le bon Dieu knew 
we did our best; He did not blame us. When we press the 
banner we will put a cloth over it, to prevent accidents." 
** The banner *' was their pride and delight. Some Tich lady 
had sent them the materials and they had spent all their leisure 
time embroidering it in white and gold. It was to be carried 
for the first time in the procession of August fifteenth. 

All over France beautiful processions take place on the 
Assumption, for on that day Louis XIII. solemnly placed la 
belle France under the special care of the Blessed Virgin, choos- 
ing her as the patroness of his beloved country. No village is 
too small to do her honor, and our peasants were planning a 
wonderful procession from Penmarc'h to Notre Dame de la 
joie. The joyousness of our preparations were dimmed by the 
sad news of the departure from France of hundreds of religious. 
Our sisters did not know whether they were to go or stay. 
The limit of time prescribed by the government was drawing 
near. Many and anxious were our discussions in the dark old 
refectory as to where they should go in case their order was 
dispersed. 

On the eve of the Assumption word came from the mother- 
house that the government considered them of ** general utility *'; 
which meant that they would be permitted to remain for a time. 



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1903.] I^ A Breton Convent. 359 

Their relief and joy were pitiful to witness. The thought of leav- 
ing their native land is fraught with actual terror to the French, 
who regard all other countries merely as places of exile. It 
was indeed a procession of thanksgiving that crossed the gray 
dunes on the feast of Our Lady. * 

" Now that we are to remain in our dear country, made- 
moiselle, we must begin to think of the winter. In cold 
weather it is necessary to eat a little meat. We therefore kill 
a pig each fall, and that lasts until spring. To-morrow is the 
fair at Pont I'Abbaye. Marie Louise will go with Denis and 
buy the pig." Before dawn they were off. 

Returning from our afternoon walk we met the sisters' 
wagon. Marie Louise, our one small maid, was seated in tri- 
umph between two men — the erstwhile owners of Monsieur le 
Cochon, who occupied the back of the cart As the heayy 
doors of the portcullis swung open we saw la bonne Mere, with 
the sisters and children, awaiting them. 

What a fine creature ! See how white and fat. How much 
did you pay for him, Marie Louise ? Amid such exclamations 
our smiling little maid descended from her seat of honor. The 
pig was led to the barnyard with laughter and rejoicing, while the 
good mother conducted the men into the dining-room and treated 
them to ^, petit verre de vin. One of the children was despatched 
to inform the butcher of the arrival of his majesty ; another for 
the father of Anna Marie to bring his stone and sharpen the 
knife. Poor pig I At this juncture we departed for the kin- 
dergarten, where we remained until the tragedy was over. 

Thursday was the school holiday. What happy walks we 
had across the dunes, and what wonderful folk-tales the sisters 
recounted while the children rested by the sea ! 

"When it storms and the waves dash over the rocky cliffs 
near St. Gu^nol^ the peasants say that they hear the moaning 
of the souls of those wrecked there during the Middle Ages; 
Then, as now, terrible gales swept over this peninsula. Wicked 
men fastened burning torches between the horns of their cattle 
and turned them adrift in the blackness of the night. Far out 
at sea the storm-tossed sailors hailed them as harbor lights 
and joyfully sought their friendly shelter. Alas ! no living thing 
may land upon those rocks. When the fury of the gale was 
past the wreckers gathered in their spoils — the dead could tell 
no tales, but their spirits still haunt their watery grave. The 



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36o In a Breton Convent. [June, 

Council of Nantes excommunicated all who encouraged this 
horrible traffic. Unfortunately the barons who owned the land 
secretly favored the brutal brigands, who became at last so 
vicious that the devil came to dwell among them. He chose 
as his home an immense roclc, ever since called la Moine (the 
monk), as he was often seen there in the guise of a monk. 
Many were the ships he lured there, until at last a beautiful 
young girl was shipwrecked and cast upon the rock. The 
devil chuckled to himself — he danced with glee : ' See the lovely 
creature now in my power!' But the girl prayed to God for 
deliverance, and as the devil approached her the rock split in 
twain, leaving a yawning chasm between them. When he tried 
to cross over he fell in the water and the waves carried him so 
far away that he could never return !*' 

, Once before his Satanic Majesty had come to live in Penmarc*h, 
but St. Madeleine (Mary Magdalen), who was preaching in 
Brittany, had filled her apron with stones and chased him away. 
In confirmation of this tradition the peasants naively point to the 
stones which she threw after him — immense rocks that only by 
miraculous aid could have been placed by a woman where they 
stand guarding Penmarc'h. They are the menhirs of the Druids ; 
further on huge dolmens mark this as their place of worship. 
These mysterious monuments accord well with the bleak scenery 
of the rugged coast. Some of the menhirs have been hewn into 
rough crosses by the pious peasants. 

The symbols of that early religion thus become the emblems 
of Christ's dominion on earth. Nowhere does his spirit reign 
more completely than in out dear old convent. 

Yet the French government has decided to close its doors. 
Even as I write, a letter is handed me from the dear little 
mother — only a few heart-broken words : " Our convent is 
taken from us. We are moving to the kindergarten. The 
government forbids us to teach or harbor children over six 
years of age. Marie Cl^ must be given to her drunken father 
unless money can be raised to pay her board in some family; 
and our little Jeannie, whom we have had since she was a 
month old, she too must go ! " 

This has been a terrible year for the poor Bretons. They 
have been powerless to avert the decrees against their beloved 
sisters. Tempests have destroyed the nets and boats of the 
fishermen; the sardine factories have closed, throwing hundreds 



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1903.] J^ A Breton Convent. 361 

of young men and women out of employment. During the 
winter many could not afford to buy bread, and, too proud to 
ask for aid, they lived on potatoes; now that the potatoes are 
exhausted thousands are starving. 

Collections are taken up for them over all Europe and the 
German Emperor has g^ven several thousand francs. 

I quote from a recent letter of Sister Othilde: "The 
generous readers of the Echo de Paris have had pity on our 
poor Bretons and have sent five thousand francs, which I have 
distributed in bread and potatoes. We now hope that none of 
our people will die of starvation. Twenty francs [four dollars] 
nourishes a family one month. Hundreds of good people have 
contributed this sum, but alas ! there are so many families. I 
therefore asl^ed permission to divide the twenty francs among 
several, giving ten and fifteen francs to a family according to 
the number of children. This has obliged me to visit over five 
hundred homes in Kerity, St. Pierre, and St. Guenol^ walking 
miles and miles, in storm or sunshine, to ascertain the names 
and condition of all to whom charity was dispensed, in order 
to send the list to Paris. You can imagine the work, chire 
'demoiselle^ and when I tell you that I had to buy the bread 
and potatoes and oversee their distribution, you will not won- 
der that the overwork brought on a fever. Happily, while I 
lay ill I could think of the peasants eating their bread. . 

" And now I have good news to tell you ; at last a few 
fish have been caught, in spite of the raging tempests. The 
brave fishermen go out in the midst of most terrible storms. 
We tremble as we watch them put out to sea in their little 
boats, but hope has returned to their hearts." 

Sister Othilde richly deserves the name recently conferred 
upon her — " Mother of the poor." The sisters have toiled night 
and day to rescue the starving peasants, sharing their bread 
with all who came to their doors. Now those doors are closed 
against them ! Who can blame the Bretons for defending 
these noble women who for so many years have devoted their 
lives to the poor, the sick, the suffering, teaching them the 
true meaning of the Fatherhood of God and the Brotherhood 
of man. 

Paris, May Pint, igo^. 



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362 MUSINGS. [June, 




MUSINGS. 

DOGMA, 

BY ALBERT REYNAUD. 

" Fons aquae salientis in vitam eternam." 

I. 

NE of the most insidious, as it is one of the most 
prevalent and phrase-catchy, epidemics of modern 
thought, is the non- dogmatic disease. 

Poor humanity ! Its common sense has stood 
'^ a Gibraltar against the assaults of extreme meta- 
physical idealists and even the pretentious negations of learned 
agnosticism; until at last the devil in despair — yes, it must be 
that old-fashioned if fresh- tailored old wily, — flings at it this 
word from the Dictionary — undogmatic. 

It is a hard blow. But a dubious word. It is so elastic, 
so sinuous, so indefinite in its intention and extension, as the 
schoolmen might say — so uneverything — merely a general nega- 
tion, undefined until it attaches itself to some specific object, 
truth or fact — that it is as hard to lay as a ghost. 

We know that we exist. That is, the enormous preponder- 
ance of us are dogmatic on that fact — with the sparse exception 
of a few sceptics through the ages, seemingly unconscious 
humorists and presumably intended to lighten up with grim 
gaiety the heavy, practical philosophy of the human race. 

We know that there are others; and other things too — hard 
facts at times. We know that we are free in some measure or 
other, and responsible in some sense or other. Existence; 
relationship to others; freedom at least of interior determina- 
tions; sense of responsibility for our acts, if sane at all. — Let 
the system-mongers prate ! Humanity has settled all this by 
the quiet ballot of life. 

And in the measure of our good sense we live up to these 
dogmas and govern ourselves accordingly. 

So when a campaign is attempted into the human territory 
of our lives against the flag of dogma, that clever devil, Doubt, 



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1903] Musings. 363 

quickly fights shy of all that affects "Life, liberty, and the 
pursuit of happiness " so far as the needs of the stomach and 
the pocket, and the pleasurableness of living here, and personal 
safety, above ground, are concerned. 

We "go by dogmas" there. Men have been known, it is 
true, to seek the advice of counsel or physician how far they 
could get around the dogma and survive the experiment — at 
least for awhile. Still, they do not at bottom question the 
fact of the dogma. 

But when it comes to religious truth, religious dogma — oh ! 
that is another question. That is where the fine work may be 
got in. Because the tangible, immediate, physical sanction of 
the dogma is — well less directly discernible ; and anyhow does 
not come in at once to interfere with our having our own way, 
for the present. 

It may not be right, or expedient, or even convenient, or 
anything that you please, for me to think so and act so. But 
nothing on earth can prevent my willing that way^-call it 
thinking, call it any actual, even if outwardly sterile, still real 
exercise of an existing energy — me — ^just as / please. 

Wondrous fact ! And yet there are dogmas upon dogmas 
involved in just this. 

II. 

What are dogmas ? 

Why, in a broad sense a living conviction that a statement 
is true and that our faith in its truth should govern our judg- 
ment, conduct and life. The dictionaries call it "authoritative." 

In other words, it is a fact as well as a principle — a fact for 
us and to be acted on so far as our light and life go. 

That two and two make four ; that fire burns ; that stealing, 
at least if caught, is bad — are, each in its way, dogmas. 

But we can deny GoSd and soul, relationship and respon- 
sibility to God, and a hereafter, and a future sanction of moral 
dictates, without being struck dead on the spot, nor hauled in 
by a policeman, nor (and that is not a negligible quantity) being 
a dollar the poorer. 

Or what is shrewder perhaps, and less " offensive " to our 
naturally pious ears, we may simply call ourselves undogmatic 
as to any of these things. Nay, we may call ourselves nice 



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364 Musings. [June, 

names to boot: enlightened, liberal, broad-minded, progiessive, 
and also ethical, altruistic, philanthropic. 

And then we may yet think we run a risk — is that the 
word ? — not only of getting all that is going here, without 
other troublesome convictions that involve practice and conduct, 
but still perhaps have an even chance, by and by, with the 
other fellows who think, and have to act, otherwise. 

Ah! more, for we are idealists in a way Im spite of our- 
selves ; we have a nice feeling that we are more free, more 
intelligent and less Dictionary-bound than the other fellows. 

That is: undogmatic. 

III. 

But that is not the whole account Man must have rea- 
sons; find, make or twist them. Even in insanity, the human 
being, so long as he retains characteristics of human intelli- 
gence at all, is a "reasoning animal" — a creature of reasons. 

Woe is me: I think that is another dogma. 

Never mind, there are reasons; there is one big, ugly, 
forceful reason for undogmaticism. 

It is the inadequacy, the imperfection and indistinctness of 
our knowledge at its best. Let us look square in its face. 
For, strangely, that is in a way a dogma too. And worse, if 
you please, it is a fact. 

It is, that we understand and view and name things accord- 
ing to our own capacity, that of the recipient of the knowledge 
— making the mental and verbal image in which we think and 
name the object the fact for us, the fact as we see it. While 
a little more thought, and the deeper the more surely, leads 
us to realize that " things are not as they seem." 

Deeper than definition, higher than deduction, intenser than 
appearances, images or notions, the full true fact of substance, 
being, reality, escapes the photography of the eye and the 
alembic of the mind. 

No terms of the contingent can express — as indeed, in the 
highest meaning, no sense it owns can conceive the view-point 
of the Absolute — except by a miracle of Omnipotence. 

But this is supernatural. And that is another dogma. 

This is precisely what religious truth affirms that God will 
do for us when we will "see Him as He is"; and gives the 
reason: "because we shall be made like to Him." 



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1903.] Musings. 365 

IV. 

Well, here we are. 

The meanest of us subscribe to innumerable dogmas by the 
highest test known to us — our life. 

And yet it is to this human race that the gospel of un- 
dogmaticism is cleverly insinuated under the excellently in- 
genious difficulty of our real ignorance of the full truth and 
the full reality as it is in itself. 

Never mind the lines of attempted demarcation — of spirit 
and matter ; of science and faith ; of experience and testimony ; 
of seeing and inference ; of Nature and God : — dogma in the 
main is the basis of actual life not only physical but in num- 
berless moral aspects of it ; and no two theories of negation of 
it, when applied to the actual individual, will run alike, nor 
has any one ever found a generic division line that has won 
the continuous acceptance of mankind. 

Negation has ever been hazier, more indefinite, more un- 
certain in fact, than the affirmations of dogma ; and the line of 
Faith is clear-lit against the ever-varying but ever-clouding 
obscurities of scepticism and doubt. 

V. 

But before going further, let us round up the bounds of 
discussion so far as they affect ourselves. We are Christians; 
we are Catholics ; and the wild, vague cannonading of the day 
against dogma in general hits us scarcely at all, except by the 
subtle result which military men, I believe, call moral effect, 
and electricians, perhaps, might name inducted currents. 

Call it as you please, any weakening of faith in religious 
facts, uneasiness as to the strength of the bulwarks of Faith, is 
what the lowering of the morale of an army is to its effective- 
ness and general success. 

Saddest in its results to any of broad sympathy with his 
fellowmen is the result with so many well-meaning, half- 
informed people of our acquaintance — it may be a friend, a 
relative — hazily led to the practical conclusion that dogmatic 
commandments are unessential and immaterial ; the sacraments 
an adventitious surplusage; acceptance of a fixed rule of Faith 
and conduct an unnecessary and unfruitful burden. Until they 
make of Faith in practice a nebular theory, and of Faith in 

VOL. LXXYII. — 24 

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366 MUSINGS. [June, 

final result the easy axiom that " God*s in His Heaven; all's 
right with the world,** 

This without reflection on the special meaning of the noble 
mind that framed those words. 



VI. 

Let us then trace and test as well as we may the fullest 
force and form within Catholic ranks of the undogmatic cur- 
rent. 

To the highest thinker, I think, the darkest, direst diffi- 
culty occurs from two extreme attitudes of mind, or schools of 
presentation, who both believe in dogma. 

(i) One, that emphasizes dogma as a word and a crushing 
command of mere power. 

(2) The other that emphasizes the elusiveness in final snaly- 
sis of an intellectual hold on the dogma; or better, the inade- 
quacy as between the fact behind dogma and our ability to 
know and express that fact as it actually is in itself. 

There we are getting at living, practical difficulties full of 
hurts for whom may be led astray. 

For if there is a hell, it is a real and not merely an aca- 
demic question for us not to land there. And perhaps it is a 
humiliating side-light on our intellectuality — the great intel- 
lectuality of the day — that in the main and at bottom with 
the great mass of mankind so far as it practically affects their 
opinion and consequent conduct — the final issue unconsciously 
revolves perhaps upon hell — the almost comic spectacle of the 
devil abolishing hell as an illogical institution — might we say, 
an optical illusion ? 

But to return to two extreme tendencies of presentation of 
religious truth and restate them. 

The one which in some wise repels a liberty-loving intelli- 
gence by over-emphasis of mere arbitrary power. 

The other which enfeebles acceptance of assured religious 
truths by over- emphasis on the inadequacy and haziness of our 
understanding of those facts as they fully and really are in 
themselves. 



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1903.] Musings. 367 

VII. 

Let tts state the latter attitude in all its force, for it is es- 
sentially the modern one. 

There is scarcely anjrthing truer (which here means clearer) 
to the reflecting mind than the inadequacy, not only of our 
words and names, but of our thoughts and understanding in re- 
gard to all things that surpass our immediate physical expe- 
rience. 

Tell me that I have not had my dinner, when I know that 
I have, and I will laugh you to scorn. Tell me that I must 
never tell a lie, I believe it; I will assert it. But I perceive a 
field of honest controversy, not only as to what is a lie, but 
in regard to what I believe indeed to be lies that have happened. 

What do we know of absolute truth ? or of perfect right- 
eousness ? Of existence as it may be in the Spirit only ? the 
exact manner of life beyond the grave ? What do we know in 
any adequate sense of the Infinite, the Eternal, the Immutable, 
and the Absolutely Perfect? 

Have we put the case against dogma in all its strength ? 

Why ! there is perhaps no more striking fact, for it is a fact, 
that the most signally deserving, and the most signally favored, 
so far as the world of disclosed experiences go, have been un- 
able to express in any very clearly appreciable human words 
adequate statements as to any of these inquiries, of which they 
yet professed to have had some actual experience. 

And yet, God helping, I think that I would die — and any- 
way myriads have both lived and died for the dogmas of reli- 
gious truth which in common with them I profess on those 
subjects. And see the continuous chain of testimony of those 
who more or less faithfully govern their lives by these same dog- 
mas, and in mind and word adhere to them. 

Surely we too have a sense that the facts as they are ex- 
ceed the bounds of finite knowledge as of natural finite expe- 
rience. 

Have we not heard from the highest of lips: 

" Deum nemo vidit unquam^ 
Unigenitus Filius . . . ipse enarravit.'^ 

No one ever saw the Father. The only begotten Son, He 
alone has given account of Him. 



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368 



Musings. 



[June. 



VIII. 

The fact to which these lines tend is not to minimize in any 
way the limitations of our understanding of the truths of Faith. 
What has preceded is evidence of our full recognition of it. 
But addressed to religious minds to call attention to some ex- 
treme attitudes apt to be hurtful in practical effect And then 
to lead to a further suggestion which arises as it seems to us 
from an ingenuous consideration of the limitations of human 
knowledge, and yet the security and steadfastness of belief of 
humanity in religious dogma, that the unsophisticated, natural 
understanding of dogmatic truths by the multitude is after all 
as divinely right and as humanly corresponding to the revealed 
fact as the subtler speculations of the acutest philosophers. 

And in fine, that the most monstrous, as it is the most de- 
structive of dogmas, repellent to the instinctive sense of hu- 
manity, and fatal to its life and security, is the dogma of un- 
dogmaticism. 




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elOYGB JOSSBLYN, SlNNBI^. 



BY MARY SARSFIELD GILMORE. 



Part IV. 

ON THE HIGH-TIDE OF MANHOOD. 




CHAPTER I. 

JOYCE'S NEMESIS. 

HE loiterers about the Maintown depot on one 
June Sunday evening, two summers after Imo- 
gen's death, were startled from their listless 
conviction that nothing interesting ever had 
happened, was happening, or would happen in 
their vicinity, by the welcome sight of a stranger descending 
from the Boston Express, — a young woman, scarcely more than 
a girl, — tall, and handsome in a semi-brunette way, with a strik- 

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. 

Joyce Jossclyn, born and brought up amidst all the narrowing restraints of New England 
fann-life» conceives the idea of going to college. His father Hiram considers that college was 
intended for the sons of the rich and that no son of his should waste his youth in college, and if 
Joyce chose to sulk, a good stout horsewhip was the best cure for the youngster's stubborn fan- 
cies. Joyce finds a sympathizer in his desire for learning in Father Martin Carruth. 

Chapter 11. is a touching family scene between the irate Hiram and the recalcitrant Joyce, 
which concludes in Joyce receiving a flogging with the horsewhip and leaving home. Chapter 
III. introduces Mandy Johnson as the boy's sweetheart, whom he meets as he is turning his 
back on the home of his childhood for ever, and they make promises of fidelity. 

In the first chapters of Part II. Joyce as a college student is presented to the various per- 
sonalities who make their home in Carruthdale, the manor-house of Centreville, and there is 
givep an insight into the social life of a college town. 

Joyce was graduated with highest honors. Commencement Day at college. Father 
Martin is there for the first time since his own graduation. Dr. Castleton, the president, 
awakens into the spiritual sense. Joyce having outgrown Mandy Johnson, by conmion con- 
sent their life-ways separate. Joyce enters the world. He accepts the offer tendered to him to 
be sub-editor on a Western paper, and in this capacity, on the morrow of his graduation, he 
enters the vigorous, bustling hfe of the energetic West. At the moment of his departure he 
caUs on Mrs. Ravmond and a significant interview takes place, in which the influence of a wo- 
man of the worla enters his life. On the journey to the West Joyce has a long talk with Ray- 
mond, in which the latter gives his views on various matters, and states the terms on which he 
engages Joyce. Arrived in San Francisco, Joyce sends an exuberant telegram to his mother. 
Joyce enters social life and takes part in a ball at the Golden Gate Ranch. Mina and Joyce 
are drawn unto each other, while Raymond's wife talks of divorce. Mina and Raymond, land- 
ing at Island Rock, are both drowned. Joyce endeavors to save them, and narrowly escapes 
with his own life. After Raymond's death Mrs. Raymond removes to San Francisco, pendmg 
the settlement of her husband's estate. Pearson, having assumed control of the Pioneer, has 
a stormy interview with Joyce. Mrs. Raymond suddenly decides to sail for Europe ; Joyce, fail- 
ing to agree to her plans, decides to remain with the Pioneer. Stephen proposes to Gladys. 
Joyce meets with the great temptation. Pearl Ripley, a Comedy Girl, enters into his life. 
Womanhood has lost something of its spiritual beauty as the result. Later on he is lured into 
a scheme of stock gambling. Stephen engages in social work, and tastes some of the higher 
things of life. He meets Gladys after the promised year's delay; while Mrs. Raymond, a 
resdess woman of the world, comes into Joyce's life again. Joyce is about to declare his 
love for Gladys when the news comes of a mme swindle. Joyce saves Hans from despair, but 
comes again under the sway of Mrs. Raymond's powers Joyce and Imogen are married. On 
returning from their honeymoon Imogen dies very suddenly. Her death is the cause of Joyce's 
spiritual regeneraticn. Two years pass and Pearl Ripley comes with her child to the home of 
Joyce's mother. That mother receives her and experiences her own punishment for having 
educated Joyce without religion. 



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370 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [June, 

ingly effective figure, and a subdued dash in her style which 
the initiated would have recognized as "stagy." Her compan- 
ion, a beautiful boy apparently of about four years of age, 
picturesquely clad in brown kilts and a quilled tam-o'-shanter, 
escaped her restraining hand, and ran up and down the plat- 
form, spiritedly kicking his little legs behind him, as a young 
colt prances in the paddock. With a smile that was tender 
rather than happy, she awaited the little man's pleasure, stand- 
ing in a pose of perfect grace, and quite indifferent to the 
masculine glances fixed upon her. 

A couple of drivers approached her solicitously, and as she 
turned her eyes towards their respective vehicles, they seized 
the opportunity to exchange a wink expressive of their admir- 
ing opinion that the passenger from Boston was a daisy ! As 
she decided upon the carryall in preference to the 'bus, the 
child ran up to her, panting joyously. 

" I 've runned away all my bref, Mamma," he gasped ; and 
the rejected driver, overhearing, had his compensation for lost 
trade in the item of news which he hastened to impart to his 
curious social circle. 

"Gosh! That youngster's her'n," he confided, tilting his 
hat to a more rakish slant as he joined the loungers. " Thought 
first-off she might be his sister, she looks so larky. Han'some 
little feller as ever I see, an' a sight o' vim in them legs o' 
his'n ! Seems to put me in mind o' somebody ! " 

" Where 's she goin' to ? " inquired one of the interested, 
gazing ruminatively after the receding carriage. 

"She asked Jake how far to Mis. Hiram Josselyn's. 
Guess she's one of Joyce's rich kin by his dandy marriage. 
She looks kinder toplofty to me ! " 

" Yep ! Joyce fell on his feet, didn 't he ? " spoke up a 
spiritless-looking little man who was searching his pockets in 
the forlorn hope that a shred of tobacco had escaped him. 
" An* to cap it all, got left a rich widderer ! My stars ! but 
some folks has luck." 

" No such luck for you, Jim," twitted the driver, evoking a 
general snicker; it being well known that matrimonial bereave- 
ment would have had its consolations for the Jim in question, 
his wife being a descendant of Mrs. Caudle, with a lecture 
always on tap. 

As the carryall whirled away its fair passenger leaned for- 



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1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 371 

ward, and looked over the country with melancholy interest. 
The town-centre with its public square, about which grouped 
post-office and town hall, schools and various churches; the 
long road winding away between fields and groves ; the village 
cottages set primly in small, neat flower-gardens ; the home- 
steads dotting limitless acres of corn and grain, of fruitful 
farm-land and luscious pasture, seemed familiar, so vividly had 
they been described to her, though she saw them now for the 
first time. To the front, midway between town proper and 
country, she recognized by its gilded cross the steeple of the 
Catholic church, — the parish-seat of Father Martin. Father 
Martin! Would she have done better to drive first to the 
Maintown rectory ? But no, — the thought of Joyce's mother 
appealed to her more humanly. Woman to woman, mother to 
mother, — surely this was the natural way ! 

The little man in the front seat, meanwhile, was enraptured 
less by the scenic than by the animal features of the landscape. 
He longed to alight and chase the cackling hens, to stroke the 
pastured calves and ponies, and moo-moo to the lowing cows. 
All unconsciously his child-heart was tired of crowded cities, 
brilliant theatres, rushing trains. The good-natured driver drew 
up while he gathered a bunch of roadside flowers, and he 
crushed their white and yellow fluff against his heart, in an 
ecstasy of affection. To him that flower- bunch in his hand re- 
presented all the country, — concentrated its sweet air, its wide 
fields, its chirping birds, its rustling trees, its animate life and 
glowing vegetation. When the driver jestingly held the butter- 
cups beneath his chin to test his liking for butter, he was en- 
chanted by the flower-lore, which he took quite seriously, kneel- 
ing up on the seat with his back to the horse, to experiment 
on his mother. Then he demolished his daisies, to see if she 
loved him " a little, much, passionately, not at all " ; curled the 
dandelion stems in his mouth, making faces over their bitter- 
ness, and presented his companions with the dripping spirals. 
Finally, looking about him for new kingdoms to conquer, the 
horse occurred to his mind as the main object of interest. 
Straining his feet towards the dashboard, his little back 
slanting sharply in his manly effort to brace himself, he reached 
out both hands for the reins. 

" My bref 's all corned back again," he said, reassuringly. 
** Now, please let me — dwive — that horse ! " 



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372 JOYCE JOSSELYJ^, SINNER. [June, 

But the composed young woman behind him suddenly lost 
her composure. With an impassioned gesture she reached 
forward, and lifting the boy over the seat- back, folded him in 
her arms. 

" No, no, no ! " she cried. " Joy must think only of Mamma 
in this last hour ! After to-night — " 

Her murmur ceased; and into the falling dusk her gray 
eyes stared blindly. The most cruel of all tears — tears unshed 
— were drowning their brilliant sight. 

Upon manly principle, Joy's active little legs, buttoned from 
instep to knee in smart tan gaiters, kicked rebelliously, even 
though his head nestled resignedly against her breast. The 
rocking motion of the carriage, the cool air on his face, the 
cradling mother-arms, were as resistless lullabies. The horse 
cantered away towards the realm of dreamland, as his violet eyes 
fluttered and shut like night- closing flowers. His deep breaths 
of defiance ended in a sigh of surrender. He was sleeping 
when the Josselyn gate was reached. 

Sunday evening was a time of peace in the Josselyn farm- 
house. Even the cantankerous old master habitually buried his 
chronic hatchet, and dozed pacifically over his Farmer's Weekly. 
It had become Mrs. Josselyn's custom after coming from Bene- 
diction, and clearing away the light supper, to sit slowly rock- 
ing, with folded hands; not reading, not talking, simply think- 
ing, — thinking. Her ** hour of rest," with unconscious pathos 
she called her Sunday respite; distinguishing it from the 
strenuous hours of the week-days' life. True, Joyce's wealth 
had smoothed her way for her; there was no necessity, no 
excuse, now, for manual labor. Yet, made happy by this 
knowledge, and using her wealth with her right hand for good 
which her left hand, as represented by her worse half, most 
certainly did not know, Mrs. Josselyn's personal life went on 
without radical exterior change. The material life of the sim- 
ple settles into fixed grooves ; and when youth and prime have 
been wearisome to body or heart, old age lacks temporal ambi- 
tion. External pomp, which is the pride of life, — personal 
luxury, which is the pride of the flesh, were no longer tempta- 
tions to Mrs. Josselyn. Had all Joyce's millions suddenly be- 
come her own, it would not have occurred to her to change 
her mode of life, her fashion of dress, her domestic routine. 
But the peace of mind insured by affluence, the dignity of in- 



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I903-] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 373 

dependence, the power of devotional and charitable benefactions 
which were the prerogatives of her change of fortune, were not 
undervalued by her. They gave impetus to her belated spirit- 
ual life, — a life haunted by maternal regret. 

Of course it was to thoughts of Joyce that the mother-heart 
consecrated her restful hour: of Joyce married to Imogen, — 
then of Joyce bereaved, and again far away in the West; 
necessarily immersed in his millions, yet since Imogen's death 
no longer merely a worldling. Father Martin, she knew, still 
retained the hand he had taken by Imogen's death-bed; and in 
spite of the distance corporeally dividing them, spiritually guided 
Joyce along new lines of life. Then she had fallen into the 
trick of correspondence with Gladys, who, with Mam'selle, had 
hastened to Carruthdale at the time of Imogen's tragedy. 
Some mysterious attraction had drawn the cultured girl and 
simple woman together; and it seemed to Mrs. Josselynas she 
read Gladys' letters, that they were the message to her of 
Joyce's Guardian Angel. She closed them not only loving, but 
believing in her son, as even she had not been able to believe, 
unencouraged. Her failure to implant in his soul in its youth 
and innocence the spiritual germ which is motherhood's holiest 
and most responsible trust, was the memory always torturing 
her, because of its menace to him. The merciful God could 
and would cover her defection; yet she could not rid herself 
of the presentiment that her sin would not escape the identical 
penalty she most dreaded, — the penalty of visitation upon 
Joyce ! 

As the carryall stopped at the gate, the driver knocked at 
it with his whip-handle, and Mrs. Josselyn hastened outward in 
hospitable haste. Sometimes Father Martin stopped off on his 
way to or from the station. More than once, Stephen, — now 
in the Passionist novitiate, — had had reason to revisit Father 
Martin, and never neglected his old friends. Moreover, local 
social attentions overwhelmed iier now, since Joyce's luck had 
made his mother a celebrity. But neither Father Martin nor 
Stephen, or even a neighbor, confronted Mrs. Josselyn on this 
Sunday evening. Up the path swept a proudly-poised, flash- 
ing-eyed, jauntily- attired young stranger, with a child drooping 
drowsily in her arms. 

Hiram Josselyn, blinking away his nap as feminine garments 
rustled towards him, rose hastily and lighted the lamp. Even 



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374 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [June, 

in this late and prosaic day of his life, he liked full light on 
unfamiliar feminine beauty. Under his hard old exterior there 
was a soft spot somewhere, though no woman had placed it 
permanently. 

The stranger bowed in silence, and seating herself, turned 
the awakening Joy's face towards them. As the lamp -light 
flashed upon the golden curls, the tender violet eyes, the rosy 
little mouth with its wilful sweetness, the straight beauty of 
feature, the blond skin colored vividly by the air and sun of 
the sea-voyage but recently ended, an expression of surprised 
recognition flitted over even Mr. Josselyn's stolid face, but at 
his wife's amazed exclamation it vanished in such a scowl as in 
the marital cipher meant an imperative caution. 

** I have come thousands of miles to put a single question 
to you," the newcomer said, with simple directness. " If you 
answer it honestly, I shall know that I have done well in com- 
ing. If you deny the truth, I will go as I came. The choice 
is upon your own justice and honor. Mrs. Josselyn, as Joyce's 
mother, it is of you I ask it. Whose son is the child with this 
face?'' 

" Let — me — look ! " gasped Mrs. Josselyn, and knelt down 
by the boy, whose friendly hand patted her thin hair, her lined 
cheeks, curiously. Her type was not of the life that little Joy 
knew, — the stage-life of real or spurious youth and beauty. 

Hiram Josselyn, at first dumbfounded, now collected his 
senses. All the relentless avarice of his life ranged itself 
against this woman and child, in whom he suspected a menace 
to Joyce and his millions. Young, gay, handsome, rich Joyce 
was sure quarry for blackmailers! But they should reckon 
with Joyce's canny old father! 

"Look here, young woman," he began threateningly. 

But Mrs. Josselyn's voice, low yet imperative, silenced him. 
The world reeled for the poor mother, who had not doubted 
for an instant since the stranger^s advent that, even as she had 
foreseen, the sin of her soulless maternity was finding her out 
through her son. Recognition of the justice of retribution 
made her just to its instrument. This girl should be given her 
chance. 

" Don't you say another word, Hiram Josselyn," she com- 
manded, " till you 've let this young woman tell her story. 
It '11 be time enough to speak up then ! " 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 375 

Hiram subsided. Somehow, of late, his wife's will had 
dominated him. He justified himself on the financial ground, 
which alone could have saved his self-respect. The independent 
income settled by Joyce upon his mother had modified her 
practical spouse's life-long conviction that she was infinitely the 
weaker vessel. Yet he glowered so fiercely that Joy changed 
his sociable mind about approaching the cross old man Mamma 
had brought him to see, and shrank back against her knee, 
staring wonderingly at the scowling face. Unfriendliness was so 
new to him that he was scarcely afraid of it; yet his sensitive 
lip quivered with his heart's vague consciousness of injustice 
and human hurt. 

Mrs. Josselyn folded her hands in her lap with despairing 
resignation. Her eyes, keen and searching, were on woman 
and child; yet her thoughts were with Joyce her son, Joyce 
her scapegoat ! Whatever his sin, she assumed it, before God. 
Prenatally, in his youth, how had she fortified him against the 
temptations of the world ? ** To be a good boy," had been the 
full height and extent of her maternal teaching. "Good," — 
with no word of Godliness, the sustaining Source of good ! 
Oh, the emptiness of it, the impotence, the mockery ! 

The bitter pain in her face touched the heart of the younger 
woman. As she spoke, her rich contralto voice quavered. 

"Your consent to hear me is an indirect admission of the 
truth," she said. "Therefore I will speak, but with no inten- 
tion of making your heart ache. I am not here for reproach 
or demand, but only to beg your help, Mrs. Josselyn. I have 
come to the place where I need it ! " 

Hiram, grunting significantly, snapped his knotty fingers in 
an " I told you so " pantomime ! She turned upon him with 
a sudden indignant blaze in her expressive eyes. " Not finan- 
^i^z/ help," she emphasized, scornfully. "Do not fear for your 
pocket! But only such help from Joyce's mother, as woman 
can hold woman, if she will. However, before asking anything, 
I suppose I should begin at the beginning." 

She glanced at her watch, — the golden heart of a diamond 
marguerite, a tribute from generous Australia. 

"Just an hour to train- time," she said, "so there is short 
time for details. The general points must suffice. Did Joyce 
never make any mention to you — of a girl named — Pearl 
Ripley ? " 



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376 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [June, 

'^ Never!'' Hiram assured her, with unflattering haste. 

Mrs. Josselyn rose with decision. 

" Never to us^' she admitted ; " but there's one in Maintown 
that is bound to know all my Joyce knows about you, and 
I 'm going to send that carriage for him this minute ! '* 

" Do ! " assented Pearl, with composed alacrity. " 1 thought 
some of driving first to the rectory, myself. I am anxious to 
see— Father Martin ! " 

Mrs. Josselyn gasped as she withdrew, and Mr. Josselyn 
gaped in aghast silence. He was beginning to fear that this 
cool young woman was a match even for him. If she was 
willing to face Father Martin — 

" Pearl Ripley/' she resumed, as Mrs. Josselyn re-entered 
the room, "was an orphan thrown on the world in her child- 
hood, to bring herself up, — and I reckon that girls need 
mothers! The creeds and conventions meant just nothing to 
her. She thought the churches all cant, and moral and social 
laws snobbery. She went on the stage, and it was as an ac- 
tress that Joyce knew her. When she made her false step, it 
was in sheer, reckless ignorance,— I *d call it innocence, only 
you 'd laugh at me ! " 

But no laughter was evident Even Hiram feigned no 
sneer. Face and voice were alike convincing. 

" You are — Pearl Ripley ? " asked Mrs. Josselyn. The girl 
nodded affirmatively. 

"Youth lives in the day, and I never once looked forward," 
she faltered. "I just thought it was grand to defy the prim 
world. You see, I never dreamed of any penalty involving — 
another! When the truth burst upon me, it was too late, too 
late ! Oh, Mrs. Josselyn, / had sailed for Australia ! " 

Mrs. Josselyn's pale face sought the screen of her hands. 
She saw it all with the eyes of the girl who had suffered it, — 
the awakening from the dream of ignorant, reckless youth ; the 
awful loneliness of the realization that she had burned her 
ships behind her; the terrible voyage, the strange country, the 
woman -agony ! 

"Yes, it was terrible," the girl moaned. "I wonder now 
how I bore it. Perhaps hope kept me up, for I wrote to 
Joyce, and waited! But he never answered, so I cancelled my 
contract on the plea of illness, and let the troupe leave Mel- 
bourne without me." 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 377 

Conviction, dignity, were in Mrs. Josselyn's face as it lifted 
proudly. 

"My son Joyce never got that letter," she said. "At his 
worst, silence would not have been his way." 

" I believe that. In fact, I knew it later. The mail-steamer 
was burned ; but I had hidden myself from the world, and the news 
did not reach me. When by chance I learned the truth, it was too 
late for Joy and me ! Joyce's marriage already had been cabled." 

The self-effacement of this simple statement was unmis- 
takable. Through Hiram's opaque complexion a flush of shame 
struggled. Here was no unscrupulously mercenary adventuress. 
In this, at least, he had wronged her. 

"I had money enough," she said, after a moment's painful 
reminiscence, "to live on while necessary, and to get Joy a 
native nurse. Then a sudden vacancy in a travelling English 
company gave me my chance. We toured the Colonies and 
the British provinces, and arrived only yesterday to tour 
America. But the road is too hard for Joy, and one-night 
stands nearly kill him. The ship doctor warned me that he 
must have rest — and the country. But he is too young to 
send among absolute strangers. All the way over, I have been 
wondering what to do with him ! " 

She looked at them pleadingly, but no answer rewarded her. 
In spite of pride, her tears gathered, as she construed their 
silence unfavorably. She was young, she had suffered bitterly, 
and with her whole heart she was wishing to do her best for 
all concerned. Joyce's parents had the power, if they had the 
will, to co-operate with her. Was she to be denied even such 
small mercy as this ? 

"Oh, won't you help me," she cried, — "you, with whom 
I could trust him ? Won't you give him the country till I can 
send him to some good school ? The thought of you came to 
me, because Joyce taught me to know — and love you ! Oh, 
Mrs. Josselyn, doesn't it say a little for me, that Joyce could 
talk to me — of \i\s mother?'^ 

They stared at her dumbly, lacking the key to her attitude. 
The misunderstanding under which she labored was yet to be 
revealed both to them and to her. 

Her proud young face hardened. So neither she nor Joy 
touched their hard, narrow hearts ! Well, perhaps their son's 
interests would appeal to them! 



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378 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [June, 

" Come, Joy," she said, rising. Then she turned to Mrs. 
Josselyn. " I had omitted to mention," she said, " that our 
tour, of course, includes a season in San Francisco. With my 
record, it is a risk to return with Joy — where Joyce's wife is! 
I have ruined my own life ; but I have no wish to ruin another 
woman's, nor to bring Joyce to trouble. He was no more to 
blame than I wast But I have appealed to you in vain, and 
am not responsible for the . consequences. Come, I say, Joy ! 
Why, what is the matter ? " 

" I — want — my — supper," wailed Joy, tired of talk and 
tears, and cross people who didn't care if little boys were 
hungry ! 

" Wait / " With an imperious gesture Hiram indicated to 
her to resume her seat. Then, rising with more alacrity than 
was commonly commanded by his rheumatic limbs, he cleared 
his throat with significance, as he demanded of his wife if she 
didn't hear that carriage coming ? Once outside the room, his 
pitiless grasp of her arm betrayed that the carriage had been 
but a pretext to speak to her. Too well she knew what she 
must hear from him. 

*' Don't you see ? " he whispered, excitedly. " She 's hearn 
tell of the marriage, but not of the death! She thinks Joyce's 
wife is livin' ! You jest leave her to think so ! He '11 be mar- 
rying again, — mebbe that there heiress. Don't you dare — you, 
his mother — to spoil his chance." 

In appalled, prayerful silence, Mrs. Josselyn listened. Then, 
with firm hand, she turned up the hall-lamp. 

" No, Hiram, I sha'n't spoil my son's chance," she answered, 
fixing eyes of stem sorrow on his conciliated face. " I guess 
there 's enough on my soul concerning Joyce, without that ! 
But there's something in this house I want you to look at. 
I 'm going right upstairs to get it now." 

Sobbing under her breath, she sped up to the bed-room of 
Joyce's childhood and youth. For the first time, she entered 
it with no joy of memory ; but only in bitter anguish of* heart 
and spirit. She had forgotten a lamp, but she did not need it. 
Had she been blind she could have found her familiar way to 
the locked bureau drawer, and the pictures tenderly shrined with- 
in it, — Joyce's pictures, with which she had once entertained 
Imogen. From these she chose the second one, — the tintype 
" taken when Joyce was going on five, — with curls like sunshine." 



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^903.J JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. 379 

Slightly matured, it was the perfect likeness of Joy. With this 
she hastened back to her husband. 

" I did n't have to look at it for myself," she distinguished, 
with fine irony. " A mother remembers, and there 's no de- 
ceiving her, root or branch ! But I got it for you, Hiram Jos- 
selyn, to think over ! Maybe it '11 show you why I can't spoil 
my son's chance — \' 

Her face was exalted in spite of its misery. The remorse- 
ful realization that her prayer and precept in his youth might 
have averted her son's sin, coerced her to voluntary acceptance 
of her punishment. Not to spare Joyce, but to exact of him 
the last farthing of atonement, — this was the just God's demand 
of her, his mother t 

"No, I sha'n't spoil Joyce's chance — to be a good man^' 
she explained, solemnly. "I sha'n't spoil his chance to right 
a wrong done to others I Being your son, and having millions, 
don't change things for Joyce before God ! . That *s the chance 
— it's chance with God^ his mother doesn't dare spoil, Hiram 
Josselyn ! " 

** Oh, cuss, cuss, cuss ! " hissed the exasperated Hiram, beat- 
ing the air in a frenzy of anger. This fool of a woman was 
going to defy him, to ruin her own son. 

Nobody knew what it cost Mrs. Josselyn to stand by her 
convictions, — to speak the truth that perchance must entail 
upon Joyce life-long results bitter past her conception. For a 
year he had been in closest intimacy with Gladys. How much 
or how little this might mean to either, his mother could not 
know ; but even if it was as she had hoped, but now feared, it 
was not her privilege to shield or spare him. For Joyce's own 
sake in the best sense, the moral sense, the soul-sense, her de- 
mand must be uncompromising, inexorable 1 

" My girl," she said, returning to Pearl, her face wan from 
her struggle, "a surprise is in store for you, and it is right 
you should know it ! Joyce did marry, yes ; but his wife died 
suddenly. I won't say any more till I see Father Martin ; but 
if he sees my duty as I do — " 

" Well, what if he does ? " snarled Hiram, indiscreet enough 
in his anger to force her avowal. " I guess Father Martin don't 
run my home ! " 

" If Father Martin sees my duty as I do, Hiram,'-' con- 
fessed his wife desperately, " then I '11 take Joy to San 



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38o JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [June, 

Francisco myself, and meet his mother there, with — my son 
Joyce ! " 

*' You 're a dum fool ! " exploded the enraged husband. 

But the words rang on deaf ears, for even as she had spoken, 
it flashed upon Mrs. Josselyn how light-heartedly, years ago, she 
has sent Joyce the message : " Tell my son to come home, or 
I'll go West to see him / " 

How little she had anticipated the heartache, the soul-agony 
of that " going West " to see Joyce, as present conditions pre- 
dicted the journey ! And it might have been so happy, so 
wonderful, — this one only journey of the home-staying woman, 
— the sole great event of her life. The iron of the contrast 
entered into her soul. She bowed her g^ray head and sobbed 
bitterly. 

The carriage had rolled up the road unnoticed, and Father 
Martin, entering the open door with his customary informality, 
had overheard Mrs. Josselyn's final words. As their significance 
flashed upon him, he stood appalled, yet not surprised. He 
had warned Joyce that the past was never laid beyond resur- 
rection, that the ghosts of dead sins were prone to walk. 

It was Mrs. Josselyn who volunteered to tell him the story. 
The girl concerned scarcely heard it, — certainly did not heed it. 
She sat with Joy in her arms, — incredulous, dazed, fluctuating 
between hope and fear, almost stunned by surprise. Free to 
marry ? — ^Joyce the married, free to marry ? 

Was she glad ? She loo.ked at Joy, and her motherhood 
exulted ! Was she sorry ? For herself, yes ; since neither in 
Joyce nor marriage was her ideal of life. ** The real stage, the 
legitimate drama," she had cried to Joyce, as they stood on 
the deck of the Oceanic, Since then, every experience had 
served to intensify her ambition, — to turn her towards art not 
only by instinct of talent, but likewise as a refuge from such 
human problems as had irredeemably embittered her youth. 
Since leaving the Comedy Girls, she had strained towards the 
highest drama. " With education, culture, coaching, experience, 
you have it in you to be a great actress,'^ her English manager 
had said to her recently; and the auspicious words haunted 
her like a voice of prophecy. To be a great actress was her 
desire, her destiny. Must she miss it because she was — ^Joy's 
mother ? 

Mrs. Josselyn's recital to Father Martin was almost incoher- 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 381 

ent. In its repetition, the story as it had been told to her, was 
interluded by self- accusations, and heart- cries of remorse. If 
Joyce had done evil, was he to blame, — or she his mother, his 
father, his home, his uprearing ? Had Hiram Jo§selyn taught 
his son tender reverence of women ? Had she taught his child- 
hood the prayer whereof alone comes purity ? And when 
Father Martin had tried to fill the places they had failed, 
already it was too late for the godlessness of birth and breed- 
ing to be eradicated ! Plunging into the world of intellect, 
Joyce had confirmed rather than diminished his lack of spiritual 
sustenance. Transplanted to the West, what had he been but 
a boy, unsustained against life's temptations ? He had borne 
himself well for his strength, carried his beautiful youth proudly ! 
What other, with his cramped opportunities, had attained 
culture, social recognition, success in the world even apart from 
his brilliant marriage? If he had made one moral slip, was it 
wonderful ? No ! The real wonder was, that his slips were not 
varied and manifold. Thus the mother-heart defended, even 
while the mother-soul judged him. Father Martin heard her to 
the end, and then turned to the silent stranger. 

"Give me the child,*' he said, and tenderly lifted Joy to 
his knee. The innocent child of the sin of Joyce's youth, — ah, 
what this meant to the soul of Father Martin 1 

He scanned the upturned face long, searchingly, sorrowfully. 
Yes, here was Joyce's white brow with the gold curls framing 
it; here were Joyce's heart's-ease eyes, a shade lighter in their 
youth ; here the straight, sensitive nose, and tender mouth of 
effeminate beauty. 

Swiftly, softly, his blessing was signed upon the childish 
forehead. 

" Has he been baptized ? " he asked, doubtfully. But Pearl's 
answer surprised him. 

'* Oh, yes ! " she said. " The hospital-priest in Australia 
baptized him Joyce Joseph. He was the first priest, and the 
best man, I had ever met; so I told him to make Joy what- 
ever he was. I had learned that it pays to be good." 

He stroked the golden curls for an instant, then gestured 
Mrs. Jossclyn to take Joy from him. 

" Have you not something outside for him, while I 3peak to 
his mother ? " he suggested ; and hungry little Joy led the way 
with eagerness. " Something outside " surely must mean supper ! 
VOL. Lxxvii.— 25 

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382 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER, [June, 

Hiram kept his seat doggedly. He was in his own house, 
his son Joyce was his concern, and of late he had had a terrible 
grudge against Father Martin. Had not Joyce made an in- 
credible, a mad fool of himself, and restored to the original 
heir the estate of Carruthdale ? At first. Father Martin had 
protested ; but later accepted it, and was turning it into a 
summsr-resdrt for New England's tenement-house children. In 
truth, Joyce's return of Carruthdale to its rightful owner had 
been suggested by Gladys. Generous as was his spirit, he 
lacked thought; and accepted all that came to him with a 
simplicity which was unconsciously selfish. But upon the 
settlement of the large estate left unconditionally to him, 
Gladys had dropped a word upon which he had acted with glad 
alacrity, and pending legal formalities, he had discussed with 
Father Martin every detail of his life since leaving Maintown, 
including his association with Pearl Ripley. The priest's heart 
had ached, convinced by Joyce's own testimony that not evil, 
but ignorance alone, had been at the source of Pearl's lawless- 
ness; aad that Joyce, in his heedlessness, had started a natur- 
ally good and noble character on the wrong, the down-hill 
road ! Hence it was as no stranger, but as a soul already 
hired to him, that Father Martin looked upon Pearl, as for the 
first time they met face to face. 

With a sensitiveness natural considering her position, Pearl 
mistook the priest's absorption in painful thought for the stern 
silence of a churchman's censure. In his manly, chastened, 
strong yet tender face, she recognized one before whom her 
inferior spirit was prostrate. But the prostration of reverent 
homage differs, even as joy from pain, from that of conscious 
unworthiness and just humiliation. Against this last attitude her 
womanliness and pride rebelled. Therefore she protested, strug- 
gling not to justifiy but to plead for herself. 

'• Don't look at me like that," she panted. " You make me 
wish to kill myself — for shame, for remorse, for real sorrow. 
But I cannot go back ; I cannot undo the deed that is done, 
can I? Oh, he said you were kind, yet you judge me!" 

** No, my daughter," he answered, gently. " It is your own 
soul that judges you. Sorrow for sin comes not from without, 
but from within us." 

" Sin ? " she resented. " I have admitted mistake, — not 
sin!" 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 383 

" Then why the shame, the remorse, the sorrow you acknowl- 
edge ? The best proof of humanity's universal vocation for the 
moral life is the soul's unrest in paths diverging from it. Sin's 
first flush may be delirious with its own hot fever; but sooner 
or later come inevitably the chill of revulsion, the depression 
of accusing conscience. Right and wrong are fixed quantities, 
and no soul confuses them. Mortal sophisms fail to tally with 
immortal verities. It is possible that, just at first, you believed 
your spirit untroubled ; but lacking .the glow and spell primarily 
dazzling you in the hour of temptation, can you say truly that 
no divine instinct convicted you of dishonor in the spirit, even 
though the world's moral letter was indifferent to you ? What 
else inspired your unrest in your position, your voluntary 
departure, your distaste for the emotional side of life, your 
ambition for a career apart from it? Forgive my seeming in- 
trusiveness, but Joyce has confided in me, — not, believe me, to 
your dishonor! / understand you. Are you sure that you 
understand yourself ? " 

Understand herself, — how could she, impetuous, reckless, 
standardless Pearl, lacking the Divine key to her spiritual, her 
immortal entity ? Yet her mental suffering, her maturing and 
chastening motherhood, had approximated it in so far as nature 
may approximate the supernatural. True, the spiritual fire was 
still unlit, but it was laid and waiting, and Father Martin was 
groping his way towards the hearth. 

From heart to throat she smothered hysterically. Seeking 
the open window she inhaled a breath of the fresh night-air. 
Outside, the carriage waited like a quiet spectre, driver and 
horse both drooping in a gentle doze. The grass glinted, sway- 
ing in the breeze under the young moon's gilding; and the 
trees rustled softly, as though their foliage were whispering in 
its dreams. About her, natural beauty ; beside her, human life 
pure, noble, exalted. Peace and harmony everywhere, save in 
her own restless soul ! Why was she out of tune with calm, 
grand Nature, — why out of touch with the type of humanity 
which she recognized as alone fulfilling her conception of real, 
because ideal manhood ? She looked to the moon and stars, to 
the hills and the fields, for her answer; but the natural crea- 
tion responds to the human only by suggestion iorcing it back 
on itself to search its own soul, where* ^ 

wisdom. 



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384 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner, [June, 

Back to the past, remote and proximate, her thoughts sped 
remorsefully. From the start she had been mistaken in taking 
life lightly, — life, that as the flame of the Divine breath, the 
creature of the Creator, the shrine of love, the instrument of 
art, the precursor of death, the seed-time of eternity, as through 
suffering she had come to recognize it, was a grave, an immor- 
tal thing ! Her attitude towards the world, pert, defiant, super- 
ficial, reckless, had been a fool's pose, senseless, unscrupulous, 
beneath contempt. She shuddered from memories of her com- 
placent ignorance, her assured social solecisms, her offences 
against all refinements of taste. But these, at worst, were 
youth's external errors, reminiscently wounding vanity rather 
than conscience. The sullied woman- heart beneath these was 
her real remorse,— the guilty woman- soul! 

I( had been 'a terrible, albeit a blessed moment for Pearl, 
when first she realized the social laws to be no hampering 
superfluities, but the practical summary of humanity's moral 
obligations ; not the arbitrary conventions of a superficial cult, 
but revealed ethics whose instinct, whether consciously recog- 
nized or unrecognized, still abides in each human heart. But 
the hiatus between Truth as she was beginning to recognize it, 
and the sophisms by which her youth had lived, discouraged 
her. 

Against the casement she cowered, a blot on God's pure 
natural and human creation. The pale peace of the planets, 
the virginal solitude of the country, the soulful humanity of 
Father Martin, tortured her less in their reproach than in their 
cruel attraction. She had had it in her to be akin to these, 
but she had missed her highest, and for a woman to miss it 
once, was to miss it for ever. She rebelled against her self- 
made fate. 

Something of all this was in her face as Father Martin 
joined her by the window, his keen eyes probing her beauty 
for the soul beneath it, as the moonlight shone upon her. As 
her intense gaze flashed upon hiin, he realized suddenly that 
this girl, in strength and depth of character, had outgrown 
Joyce, and knew it! What save wreckage for both, then, did 
reunion promise? Upon his thought her words fell with start- 
ling opportuneness. 

" Except for Joy's sake, I would never see Joyce again,— 
never tell him," she whispered. "To be the impersonal, sexless 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 385 

artist is my ambition, — not the mere human woman — who 
drained love, and found it bitter — " 

'* Love is bitter," he interrupted, " only when evil profanes 
it. The sin may be abjured, the pain that is its penalty nobly 
accepted, the irreverent mistake of youth redeemed and lived 
down, and the beautiful Charity attained that loves the crea- 
ture in the Creator, which is the Love that is the first and 
greatest commandment, and all the Law ! Even the artist, if 
he disdain love, or whom love's lees have left heartless, may 
have technique, but never the soulful genius which is the mag- 
net of success, the key to the public heart, since art is of the 
soul, and there is no soul-life where the love of love is dead. 
Second in idealism only to the religious life, the art- life indeed 
is a life to keep pure, to hold high, to live finely, to serve 
with sacrifice. But purity is not heartlessness, not bitterness, 
not despair. Both as woman and artist, start out anew, with 
true premises instead of false ones." 

" As a woman," her lips murmured, " it is too late ! " 

*'It is never too late. Human life is made up of begin- 
nings, as the year lis made up of new days. That yesterday is 
nothing, to-day everything, is the lesson, each morning, of the 
rising sun. Past slips, if we profit by them, serve to make 
both present and future surefooted. We forget that this world 
is only the cradle of immortality, and that ' to the Lord a thou- 
sand years ate as one day.^ " 

Woman, artist, struggling sfHrit, alike responded to him. 
She had studied out for herself that the dramatic art was im- 
passioned, — never cold, never heartless. She had divined, even, 
that purity at its noblest must be vitalized by human tender- 
ness. ^But that the woman's heartache, the artistic travail, 
might be the birth-pang of a soul struggling towards the light ; 
that art, — even the dramatic art, — was in touch with spiritual 
inspiration; that the soul-life was the pulse of both love and 
art, and heart and intellect but instruments of the soul ; that 
the woman's heart-phase must react for good or ill upon the 
artist, and the artist's mortality serve or fail her immortality, — 
in short that life was a complex, intricate, exquisitely minute 
and finely adjusted bit of Divine mechanism, in which the 
spirit was dominant, the human its subordinate server, had to 
be suggested to her by a soul higher and more enlightened 
than her own. Yet, although conviction was dawning, she still 



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386 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [June, 

lacked the courage of it. It seemed bitter as death to her, to 
consider the sacrifice of her career. 

** Father," she cried, and the pathetic ingenuousness of the 
girlish appeal bore to the experienced priest's heart the assur- 
ance of her simplicity, her honesty, — "Father, my heart is in 
my art-life. The stage is all my world. Must I sacrifice it? 
Is it my atonement — to Joy ? " 

He had spoken almost at random, while behind his words 
of lip his own soul had been pondering this same momen- 
tous question. Yet even as he hesitated, he knew its 
answer. Curiously similar in their uncompromising spiri- 
tual standard, their stern and simple conception of moral 
obligation, their imperative demand that right and justice 
should prevail, were his theological reasoning and the unlet- 
tered convictions of Mrs. Josselyn. Only Pearl's self-avowed 
unworthiness could open a possibility of lawful independence, 
of righteous freedom, to her and Joyce. She, not he, must 
render the verdict. 

"Self-sacrifice must be your atonement, yes," he adjudged, 
" in the presumable case that you are worthy to make it ! My 
girl, before God, — is it so ? " 

" Before God," she took oath : and her proud eyes, her pure 
lips, told the priest that she spoke truly. " My sin — my first 
sin of ignorance, father, — has been repented at least in inno- 
cence of sin ! " 

The priest sighed as he formulated the judgment which he 
felt to be his obligation. What of Joyce? What of Gladys, 
even, should his fear of her possible tendresse for Joyce be jus- 
tified ? Yet not these, but this woman with her child, cried 
to God for merciful justice! In the spiritual conviction that 
triumphed over human affection, the priest-soul, the mother- 
heart were as one. 

"Then/' he decided, "you have been more sinned against 
than sinning » and Mrs. Josselyn's decision is the righteous and 
just one. With Mr. Josselyn's kind sanction, she will meet 
you in San Francisco. It will be better for you, and the 
child." 

Purposely he had lifted his voice, that the sulking Hiram 
might hear him distinctly. Another heard, too, — Mrs.. Josselyn, 
just hesitating whether to enter or wait, upon descent from the 
sleeping Joy*s bedside. 



L 



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1903.] Joyce Josselvn, Sinner, 387 

" But she don't get my sanction," protested Hiram, authori- 
tatively. *' No wife o' mine makes a fool of herself gallivantin' 
acrost country with kids, at her age ! Next off, she '11 be takin' 
a weddin'- tower ! " 

" If I do, Hiram," calmly responded Mrs. Josselyn, from 
the doorway, " it '11 be my first, for you remember you saved 
the expense, — when we married ! But, thank God, I can pay 
for this one myself. You may come along, too. That 's the 
best I can say ! " 

" / ain't goin' to help you ruin my son, Joyce," he retorted, 
sullenly. 

Pearl's eyes filled with tears, but she made no protest. 

From outside came the significant cough of the impatient 
driver. He jerked the reins, and unnecessarily changed the 
position of the carriage. He had awakened from his nap a 
little chilled, more than a little cross, and quite convinced 
that it was full time for his passenger to pay and dismiss 
him. 

"My time is up," said Pearl, after a startled look at her 
watch. There was a sob in her voice. She looked about her 
with sudden wildness. "Joy!" she cried. "Where is Joy? Oh, 
how can I leave him, — how can I ? " 

"Come with me," whispered Mrs. Josselyn. And the 
women, — Joyce's mother, and the mother of Joyce's son, — 
mounted side by side the two flights of stairs, and entered the 
room consecrated to Joyce's memory. 

Human, like national history, repeats itself. Here, where 
Joyce had slept his childhood's sleep, and dreamed his young 
dreams of innocence, little Joy now slept and dreamed in his 
turn, for the first time in all his wandering life, " at home " ; 
as Joyce's son at home in the Josselyn homestead by moral 
right, — yet — so opposed are the standards of God and man, — 
only by social tolerance. 

"This was Joyce's bed," whispered Mrs. Josselyn, in a 
voice at once hard yet faltering. " This was his room all his 
life ; and I 've sat here to think of him, since he left me. I 
did n't think Joyce would grow up to be — what he is ! Yet I 
might have known he would — just to punish me — " 

Both women were on their knees by the humble bed. But 
the heart of the mother ached for the absent Joyce; of Pearl, 
for. little Joy who might never know the honor of his father's 



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388 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [June, 

name, the father- heart's love for its first-born! Over the frail 
and helpless little hand lying like a flower on the quilt. Pearl 
bowed her head. 

He had gone to bed willingly enough, for he was very 
tired, and the funny, kind old lady who had put cream in his 
milk, and warned him not to eat the hole in the crisp, brown, 
ring-shaped cookies, had told him of bossy- calves and ponies, 
and fluffy little yellow chickens to be seen to-morrow, and 
therefore was a nice old lady to visit ! Yet on his cheek shone 
a tear born of a child's vague wonder. Why must he visit 
anybody, instead of going back to the cars and the boats and 
the hotels that were the familiar frame of his little life, — and 
oh ! where was his pretty Mamma ? 

At the sight of the tear. Pearl's self-control deserted her. 
She caught him up, passionately kissing him on lips and throat, 
dispelling his dream, awakening him. 

" He 's miney' she cried, '* mine, — the only thing of my own 
I ever had in the world I No one else has a right to him ! 
Didn't I bear it all alone, — all the shame, and the pain? 
Have n't I loved him, slaved for him, prayed for him ? — " 

But her passion was but of the moment. Her mother-heart 
conquered. She must not think of herself, — but of Joy ! 

" Good-by, O darling, darling ! " she sobbed. " Be a good 
boy to the dear lady who will bring you — to meet Mamma — " 

" And Papa ! " added Mrs. Josselyn, uncompromisingly ; but 
her face showed her agony. 

" Have / — a Papa ? " queried Joy, with sleepy happiness. 

Then he dreamed, indeed, with a tender smile on his beauti- 
ful face. To have a Papa, like other little boys, — this was 
Joy's vision of heaven. 

Oh ! the cost of a single sin, — who save God can count it ? 
Joyce, indeed, still went free, but his hour was at hand. 
Gladys, again intimate with him, again believing in him with 
all a maiden's tender and faithful heart, faces her hour of 
bitterness too, though she has sinned no sin. While already, 
to three souls, their hours of bitterness are come : to her watch- 
ing sleeplessly through that night of agony, her mother-heart 
stiibbed and bleeding, yet no less loving her prodigal son; to 
Pearl, weeping tears not only of familiar remorse and unfamiliar 
maternal loneliness, but anticipativelyi the artist's tears for art's 



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1903.] 



Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 



389 



blighted career; most sadly of all, to Father Martin, whose 
vigil before the Tabernacle is alike racking to human heart and 
priestly soul ! Knowing that his judgment was just, yet its 
responsibility was a cross prostrating him. Fulfilled duty does 
not always bear mortal recompense ; and marriage obligatory in 
the moral sense, yet may wreck human happiness. What if the 
issue of his justice to Pearl should bring ruin to Joyce, driving 
him to deeper sin, baser dishonor ? 

Ah, priest of Christ, in your stress of soul, in your strain 
of heart torn between earth and heaven, — from the toils of your 
doubt, from your dark dread of error, yx)ur Divine Master 
hastes to deliver you ! Already His Providence sets in motion 
the wheels of Nature that shall lift the burden of human destiny 
from your hands ! Not in vain, Father Martin, your vigil whose 
impetration consummates the maternal watch ! The priest- 
prayer, the mother-tears, these have conquered ! 

(to be continued.) 




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I. 



1. — In the May Bulletin of the Department of Labor* the 
Anthracite Coal Strike Commission publishes its official report 
to the President. The commission was appointed by President 
Roosevelt on the i6th of October, 1902, "to inquire into, con- 
sider, and pass upon the questions in controversy in connection 
with the strike in the anthracite regions." It began its work 
October 24, by summoning to Washington the representatives 
of the mine operators and workingmen. There they entered 
into a contract to reopen the mines and to abide by the deci- 
sion of the committee for a term of at least three years. 

The first part of the report is taken up with a history of 
the appointment of the commission, a detailed account of the 
conditions in the anthracite region, and a review of the causes 
leading to and the principal incidents in the strike of 1902. 
The committee then states its awards, which, in regard to the 
four principal demands of the miners, may be summarized as 
follows : 

The first demand was for an increase of twenty per cent, 
upon the prices paid during the year 1902 to employees per- 
forming contract or piece work. The committee finds that the 
conditions of life of mine-workers do not justify the contention 
of the workingmen that the annual earnings of the miners are 
insufficient to maintain the American standard of living. How- 
ever, in view of the interruptions incident to mine-operating, as 
well as the increased cost of living and the hazardous nature 
of the work, the committee awards an increase of ten per cent, 
over and above the rates paid in the month of April, 1902. 

The second demand filed by the miners was for a reduction 
of twenty per cent, in the hours of labor without any reduc- 
tion of earnings for all employees paid by the hour, day, or 
week. In regard to this demand the committee awards : first, 
that all engineers employed in the hoisting of water shall have 
an increase of ten per cent, on their earnings betwecin Novem- 
ber I, 1902, and April i, 1903, and, during the life of the 
award, they shall have eight- hour shifts with no reduction in 
pay from what they received in April, 1902 ; second, all other 

• T^f Rfp&rt of the Anthracite Coal Commission. (Being the May issue of the Bulletin of 
(ti« DqmrtQient of Labor.) Washington: Government Printing-Office. 



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1903.] VIEIVS AND REVIEWS, 39 1 

engineers and pump men shall have an increase of five per 
cent, on the rate of wages, and shall be relieved from duty on 
Sunday without loss of pay; third, all employees or company 
men not mentioned above shall be paid on the basis of .a nine- 
hour day, receiving the same wages as paid for a ten-hour day 
in April, 1902. 

The third demand of the miners was for the adoption of a 
system by which the coal shall be paid for by weight, the 
minimum rate to be 60 cents for a legal ton of 2,240 pounds. 
To this demand the committee adjudges that the present sys- 
tem shall be adhered to, unless changed by mutual agreement 

The fourth demand, and the one which many of the miners 
considered the most important, was for a recognition of the 
union. This the committee adjudges to be outside its jurisdic- 
tion. The commission was appointed to determine the ques- 
tions at issue between the operators and their employees, 
whether they were union men or not. Nevertheless, the com- 
mittee states that if an independent union of the anthracite 
mine-workers were organized with some of the objectionable 
features removed, and if it were within the jurisdiction of the 
committee, the fourth demand would be granted. 

Aside from these principal demands of the workingmen the 
committee adjudges that thete shall be a '' sliding scale " for 
the increase of the wages of the employee ; that no person 
shall in any way be discriminated against by employer or em- 
ployee because of membership or non-membership in a labor 
union ; that the amount due the laborers shall be paid, by the 
company, not to the contract miner but to the laborers them- 
selves; that the awards of the committee shall continue in 
force until March 31, 1906; and that any disagreement arising 
under these awards shall be referred for settlement to a board 
of conciliation appointed as prescribed in the committee's report. 

Further than, this the committee recommends a more rigid 
enforcement of the laws in regard to the employment of chil- 
dren and the protection . of property. It is opposed to com- 
pulsory arbitration, but endorses a bill providing for official 
investigation on the application of either contestant. The 
awards throughout are characterized by the fairness and sound 
judgment that the personnel of the committee led the public to 
expect, and the report is without doubt a most important 
document in economic literature. 



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392 ViEivs AND Reviews. [June, 

2 — ^We gladly welcome any writings that tend to inspire 
devotion to the Holy Spirit. In the present volume • the author, 
in a simple and devotional style, introduces the reader to the 
august doctrine of the Third Person of the Blessed Trinity. 
He reviews the special work of the Holy Ghost in the sancti- 
fication of man's soul, and shows His intimate relations with 
mankind. The book is intended to furnish matter for medita- 
tion in the hope of increasing devotion to the Holy Spirit, and 
we note, with satisfaction that the author places the truest de- 
votion to Him, and the best sort of worship, in obedience to 
His inspirations. In treating of this difficult matter, however, 
this work is vastly inferior to Father Baker's Sancta Sophia — 
that unrivalled guide to the worship which is in spirit and in 
truth. To our deep regret we must notice in Father Meschler 
an unpardonable fault. Surely in a book like this it was 
unwise to drag in, by violence, an acrimonious and abandoned 
controversy. In a foot-note we are told : " The opinion that 
there is a certain interior guidance of the Holy Ghost which 
makes the exterior teaching of the church unnecessary or 
superfluous, was condemned in the Encyclical of Leo XIII. on 
so-called 'Americanism or Heckerism." To associate thus the 
holy name of Father Hecker with a palpable and outrageous 
heresy is poor business indeed for a writer on the God of 
charity. The very foundation of Father Hecker's spiritual doc- 
trine was the Catholic Church's infallible authority. The very 
first criterion which he constantly puts forward for estimating 
the value of interior inspirations is that these should absolutely 
conform to the voice of the teaching church. Yet here, by a 
stroke of the pen, a man who has certainly never read Father 
Hecker at all, blackens him with the pitch of heresy, all for 
the greater glory of God the Holy Ghost. Indeed, it is dis- 
heartening and contemptible; and in the name not of fair 
play, which of itself can hardly be allowed a place in such 
controversies, but in the name of supernatural and priestly 
charity, we protest against it out of a sorely -tried and long- 
suffering patience. 

8. — P^re Sortais, professor of philosophy in the College of 
the Immaculate Conception at Paris, known to the reading 

* The 6ift of PentiC0st, Meditations on the Holy Ghost. By Father Meschler, S.J. 
Translated from the Gennan by Lady Amabel Kerr. St. Louis : B. Herder. 



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1903.] Views and Revieivs. 393 

world already by various articles in the £tudes and by two 
or three aesthetic works, has published a philosophical text- 
book adapted to the needs of candidates for the classical 
baccalaureate.* The first volume is entitled Psychologie Experu 
mentale and the second deals with Logic, Ethics, ^Esthetics, and 
Metaphysics. The reader, however, must not conclude that the 
first volume is devoted to what we would call in English 
" Experimental Psychology " ; for Empirical Psychology would 
be the term really descriptive of this treatise. The present 
name has been chosen — somewhat inconsistently — for the reason 
that the treatment of Rational Psychology is relegated to the 
Book on Special Metaphysics. Regarding the method properly 
called " experimental," our author remarks, not unjustly, that it 
labors under a great number of limitations; but he appears to 
entertain no illusion as to his ability to prophesy concerning its 
possible value in the future, after it shall have enjoyed an op- 
portunity of growing during some six or seven hundred years. 

Having professed a dislike for the too prevalent custom of 
wrapping philosophy up in rhetoric, Pfere Sortais dares, never- 
theless, to draw largely upon his literary and classical learning 
for illustrations and quotations — and succeeds in illustrating his 
points very happily sometimes. But clearly his forte is analysis 
and division; and as affording a ready view of the whole sub- 
ject commonly discussed under the rubric " Philosophy " his 
work is particularly successful. He arranges and classifies and 
subdivides with admirable lucidity ; hrs indices especially 
betraying the clear mind and careful method of their maker. 

The physiological summarizing in the Psychology appears to 
have been done rather hastily. Sometimes brevity interferes 
with thoroughness and confidence begets a dogmatic tone. 
Moreover, in certain places the arguments presented are deficient 
without any appearance of their author's having been conscious 
of that fact. Again, it seems strange that he should define 
sensation as '' an agreeable or painful phenomenon of conscious- 
ness preceded by a nervous impression transmitted to the brain," 
and follow up this definition with a discussion of the question 
whether or not any sensations lack the pain-pleasure element. 
But on the whole the book deserves consideration, and, especially 
by its good mapping out of the field, will benefit students who 
remember that it is a text-book. The chapter dealing with the 

• Traitidt PhihsophU, Par le P. Gaston Sortais, SJ. Two vols. Paris ; P. Lcthielleux. 



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394 Views and Reviews, [June, 

relations of the physical and the moral status are outspoken 
and enlightened. 

4. — ^The Rev. Charles Bodington contributes to the Oxford 
Library of Practical Theology a volume on Books of Devotion^ 
It aims at making the reader acquainted with the various holy 
thoughts that may be gathered in the fields of devotional litera- 
ture, attention being given almost exclusively to works in 
English. A prominent defect of the book is its lack of 
thoroughness ; a great medley of writers is referred to and an 
immense variety of tendencies is represented; yet no line of 
thought or subject of study is treated exhaustively. This is 
rather disappointing to readers given to reflection, or accustomed 
to scholarly methods. It might be supposed that few others 
would take up and enjoy a volume like the present; this, how- 
ever, is a mistake. Any serious-minded person will find the 
book an instructive one to dip into for an occasional visit to 
the land of good spiritual literature. 

The author contents himself for the most part with sum- 
maries of the books before him, refraining from comment or 
criticism — consequently he has put the kernel of a great many 
fine works at the reader's disposal. But, as was said above, the 
absence of a principle of selection seems to be responsible for 
a generally unsatisfying impression which the book is apt to 
leave. Most of the writers quoted from are Anglicans ; Catho- 
lic authors when used are treated with all consideration. A 
strong plea is made for the legitimacy of Invocation to the 
Saints and other Catholic practices, but the line is drawn at 
Scaramelli's presentation. 

6. — All who are interested in the question of social reform 
will gladly welcome this second volume f by Mr. Woods and 
his associates in the South End Settlement House of Boston. 
As their lirst volume. The City of Wilderness^ which was 
published about four years ago, was a description of the con- 
ditions in the South End, so this book is a detailed study of 
the peoples and their environment in the two principal immi- 
grant districts of that city, known as the North and West Ends. 

■ Bmk$ o/Dnmiiun. By the Rev. Charles Bodington. London, New Yoric, and Bombay: 
t-ongmans, Green & Co. 

t Amirii-ani in Prstiss. Edited by Robert A. Woods. Boston and New York : Houghton. 



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^903-] VIEJVS AND REVJEIVS. 395 

The writers have gone among the inhabitants of these 
sections, noted carefully the traits peculiar to the different 
nationalities, and estimated their value from the view- point of 
'American citizenship. They point out many existing evils 
which, though differing in detail, are much the same as those 
which obtain in every city having a large immigrant population. 

The principal suggestions offered are a better organization, 
trade unions, and a more far-sighted municipal policy. This 
would mean better care of the streets, more rigid building laws, 
more opportunities for fresh air and personal cleanliness; the 
erecting in each district of a hall where good books and good 
music may be had, and especially the establishing of technical 
training schools. The facts related in the book and the sug- 
gestions offered deserve serious consideration, not only by the 
people of Boston but also by all who are interested in the 
future of our American cities. 

Mr. Woods admits the great influence for good which the 
Catholic Church exerts upon her immigrant children, but finds 
fault with particular aspects of her belief and practice. He 
seems to account it a great loss that scepticism has had so little 
effect among Catholics, and that the church holds to-day to 
the creed she has professed from the beginning. Mr. Woods 
can scarcely find ground for his complaint, if we inform him 
that the teachings of Catholicity are the utterances of the 
Most High, who knows no vicissitude nor shadow of change. 
A strange thing, this non-Catholic inability to understand that 
there may be in the world a religion not made by men but 
revealed by God, and consequently no more subject to revision 
than the divine veracity can be subject to delusion. 

6. — Murder, sensuality, lying, the horrible Inquisition, wily 
Jesuits, misguided women — what is this ? A yellow, paper- 
bound volume published many years ago by the firm of Little, 
Known, and Co. ? No, indeed ; it is an ornamented, cloth- 
bound book,* printed on good paper, with excellent typography, 
in the year of Christian civilization 1903, by the reputable 
firm of The Macmillan Company. 

After reading it one wonders at the reason of the title, but 
that lack of appropriateness is soon forgotten amid the great 
mass of glaring inconsistencies and errors. The author's pur- 

• The Pagan ai the Shrine, By Paul Gwynne. New York : The Macmillan Company. 



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396 Views and REVIEIVS. [June, 

pose, to be brief, is to show that the Catholic religion is merely 
a matter of emotion without a real, rational basis, carried on as 
a humbugging scheme by dishonest priests, accepted only by 
the ignorant and by the intelligent ones who would make capi- 
tal out of this ignorance. The hero of the book is a man who 
gives up Catholicism for atheism, and of course he is the only 
character that has a spark of virtue. He is noble, honest, sin- 
cere, and pure. All the Catholics and the Catholic population 
of the country — Spain — are immoral, or very close to it, and 
to the diseased ear of the author all things of God's creation, 
even the peaceful zephyr of evening, brings a message of sen- 
suality. To the evil-minded all things are evil. The author 
has a remarkable power in coloring his scenes well and depict- 
ing his characters with many an artistic detail. More 's the 
pity that he should thus prostitute it after the manner of a 
Gautier or a Zola, and that his labors, for he certainly has 
labored, should go to the service of evil and his own disgrace, 
rather than to God's glory and his own. No matter that he 
should misrepresent and vilify the greatest institution of souls 
upon earth ; that his ignorance or his maliciousness should lead 
him to insult a country whose peasantry is one of the purest 
on earth; caricature the administration of the Sacraments, lie 
about confession, outstrip even the notorious Llorente in the 
matter of the Inquisition, picture general flirtations among the 
Catholics in church, insult religious orders, and make priests 
ridiculous — all this he does, and then with equal effrontery 
presents his work to an intelligent public through one of our 
most reputable publishing houses. 

We had almost believed that the day had past when a 
leading publishing firm would father such a grievous, public 
offence against truth and morality. 

7. — The Rise of Ruderick Clowd* is the interesting life- 
story of a criminal told by Mr. Josiah Flynt, whose writings 
on the methods and habits of the world of *' graft " are now 
quite well known. Ruderick Clowd even from his birth has 
the marks upon him of an outcast and a rebel against honest 
society. An illegitimate child, he is shunned by all until he 
wins recognition by his physical powers. His mother's advice is 
not heeded. He begins to pick pockets, then to go after larger 

• The Rise of Ruderick Clowd, By Josiah Flynt. New York : Dodd, Mead k Co. 



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1903.] V/EPVS AND REVIEWS. 397 

"jobs," and finally has the proud name of being one of the 
most successful " crooks " in the country. Mr. Flynt through- 
out gives us the criminal's point of view. His account of 
reform schools is a very sorry one, and he would seem to give 
no room for amendment or repentance in prison life. The book 
is rich in pictures of the Under World, full of the professional 
vocabulary of the ''crooks," and abounds in detailed descrip- 
tions of their methods, whether working alone or in gangs on 
big "jobs." But Mr. Flynt must have a hero in his book, and 
at the end Ruderick. becomes very much of a one; yet he is 
not the least sorry for his years of sin, has no word of regret 
for them, and his transition from a '* crooked " to a " straight " 
life is stated but not justified, which is, to say the least, inar- 
tistic. 

8. — ^This small volume • of the series of Little Novels by 
Favorite Authors is a story of student days at Harvard. All 
who enjoyed Mr. Wister's classic story of Western life in the 
Virginian will find an agreeable half- hour in reading Philoso- 
phy 4., There are two heroes who, boldly undertaking the 
course in philosophy, attend but few of the lectures, and con- 
sequently have to " plug " continuously for a few days before 
the exams, under the guidance of a tutor. In spite of a wild 
time in the country the day before, they succeed with remarka- 
ble credit to themselves. Mr. Wister represents his heroes as 
not being serious students, but the language he puts into their 
mouths contradicts all that, else they never could have uttered 
the many bright criticisms that demolish conceptualism and 
that do credit to Mr. Wister himself. And after all, in spite of 
the author's sarcasm, a man would be just as successful in life 
and do just as much good to himself and to his fellow-men, 
and most probably much more, even if he were only a book- 
reviewer on the Evening Post, and not the treasurer of the 
New Amsterdam Trust Company. 

9, — To read of lives wasted away in struggling to preserve 
the only true religion in a land where religious liberty was 
denied, is at times a tonic to our lethargic spirituality. 

We have such a reinvigorator in this Catholic London Mis- 
sions.f It is a collection of the fragmentary accounts that have 



• Philosophy 4, By. Owen Wister. New York : The Macmillan Company, 
t Catholic London Missions, By Johanna H. Harting. St. Louis : B. Herder. 
VOL. LXXVII— 26 



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398 VIEIVS AND REVIEWS. [June, 

filtered through years of penal laws and ages of persecution 
concerning the establishment, maintenance, and preservation* of 
the chapels in which the faithful few and tried Catholics in and 
about London worshipped between the years 1625 and 1833. 
A " Mission Chapel " in such times often meant an old, out- 
of-the-way building or private house, rather than the cozy, 
pretty little chapel that stands out boldly in the cities of this 
present day of religious toleration. The pastor of the flock 
that secretly gathered in these mission chapels on days given 
to worship was often a poor Capuchin or Franciscan monk who 
took his life in his hands when he conducted services. Some- 
times the buildings were insecure, and instances are related of 
floors falling through during services, causing frightful loss of 
life. Such accounts as these make us cherish our faith more 
closely because given us in a time when priests are not pro- 
scribed nor the faithful layman hunted. The volume contains 
but a simple narration of facts compiled with much labor and 
is very pleasant reading. Father Tyrrell, S.J., has written the 
preface. 

10. — Pedagogical literature is genuinely enriched by Mr. 
Brown's history of " Our Middle Schools." Indeed, the entire 
province of American history is indebted to the volume.* For 
it is an almost entirely historical study, and what nation that 
has ever existed has had its schools so intimately bound up 
with its political development as our own? Important as was 
the work of those flrst strong settlers of Massachusetts in re- 
claiming an inhospitable soil from savagery and in building 
thereon the foundations of a new state, perhaps of deeper value 
were their passion and their endeavor for education. The 
Puritan had his share of human limitations and infirmities. 
He was not a genial creature. He had rigid ideas about his 
predestined election to grace and glory, and from the days of 
ancient Israel those are ideas which are but a step removed 
from fierce intolerance. But the Puritan has deeply engraven 
on the heart of this Republic the necessity of godliness and of 
an education which shall lead to godliness. His schools, estab- 
lished as soon as ever a forest clearing made room for the 
four humble walls, re-echoed the teaching of his meeting- 

* Th€ Making of our Middle Schoob, An Account of the Development of Secondary 
Education in the United States. By Elmer Ellsworth Brown, Ph.D. New York : Long- 
mans, Green k Co. 



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1903.] VIEIVS AND REVIEIVS. 399 

house. To learn to read was for the purpose of conning. well 
the Scriptures; for, so declares the quaint Massachusetts Char- 
ter of 1647, It is "one cheife piect of yt ould deluder Satan, 
to keepe men from the knowledge of ye Scriptures." Accord- 
ingly, as early as 1642 the selectmen of all the towns in the 
Bay Colony were charged with the duty of seeing that parents 
provided for the religious, patriotic, and practical training of 
their children. 

This training was a very strenuous affair, too. For accord- 
ing to the rules governing the town school of Dorchester, 
Massachusetts, in 1645, school hours were fixed as follows: 
From March i to September 30, from seven in the morning to 
five in the afternoon ; for the remainder of the year from 
eight o'clock till four. Another regulation declares that "be- 
cause the rod of correction is an ordinance of God necessary 
sometimes to be dispensed unto children, the schoolmaster shall 
have authority to minister correction without respect of per- 
sons." But good fruit grew from this stern soil. How respec- 
table an education must have been given in those early second- 
ary schools we can discover from the following summary of 
requirements for admission into Harvard in 1734: "Whoever 
upon examination by the president, and two at least of the 
tutors, shall be found able extempore to read, construe, and 
parse Tully, Virgil, or such like common classical Latin authors, 
and to write true Latin in prose, and to be skilled in making 
Latin verse, or at least in the rules of Prosodia, and to read, 
construe, and parse ordinary Greek, as in the New Testament, 
IsocrateS) or such like, and decline the paradigms of Greek 
nouns and verbs, having withal good testimony of his past 
blameless behavior, shall be looked upon as qualified for admis- 
sion into Harvard Cpllege." About the same time was passed 
another law, now, alas! obsolete, to the effect that "no Block- 
head or lazy Fellow in his Studies be elected." 

How the characteristically American zeal for learning passed 
from New England throug^h all the other Colonies, and how, 
as it travelled on, it acquired new perfections, Mr. Brown 
tells us, with grace and erudition. The rise and growth of 
academies and high schools, their courses of study, their disci- 
pline, their results; how religious control of education was 
gradually transformed to civil, and how, in consequence, a 
system of strictly denominational schools arose — these are some 



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400 Views and Reviews. [June, 

of the topics treated, along with the various problems which 
they suggest. There is a very kindly account of Catholic edu- 
cation in the United States. It is brief, naturally, but occupies 
a duly proportionate space. And in connection with this, Mr. 
Brown deserves our thanks for his perfect fairness, and for his 
application to reliable sources for his treatment of Catholic 
schools. Like every other thoughtful man, our author is a 
strong supporter of religious training as an integral part of the 
education of the young. Just how this training is to be given 
so as to be acceptable to all, he frankly does not pretend to 
decide, though he is hopeful of a happy issue of the problem. 
In conclusion we must again commend this work as one of 
unusual merit. May we soon have from a Catholic pen a vol- 
ume, equally thorough, on the church's historic efforts to edu- 
cate mankind ! 

11 — Spencer Jones's remarkable book • has appeared in a 
second edition. It will be recalled that this extraordinary work 
from the pen of a Ritualistic clergyman advocates practically 
everything in Catholic doctrine and discipline, and pleads for 
England's submission to the See of Rome, as her sole hope of 
spiritual salvation. Thousands of Anglicans have read it, 
and, in the words of Lord Halifax's preface, have been thereby 
brought nearer " that reunion of the Church of England with 
the Apostolic See which is so necessary for the maintenance 
of the Faith, for the vindication of ecclesiastical authority, for 
the welfare of Christ's religion, and the spread of the Kingdom 
of God upon earth." One thing unhappily remains as an 
obstacle in the minds of Anglicans thus far advanced, and that 
i^ that they seem not to see the obligation to enter the Cath- 
olic Church which rests upon every individual who acknowledges 
her claims. They remain out of the Church, thinking thereby, 
and thinking sincerely, to lead a movement toward Rome. 
Nothing short of a corporate conversion, a national submission, 
seems to enter into their designs. But souls are saved singly 
and alone, and surely the Great Judge will not ask us how 
many we have induced to perform their duty, but, rather, how 
perfectly we have performed our own. Pity it is that these 
leaders of Anglicanism do not perceive that by entering the 

^Ew^hmd and the H&ly See. An Essay towards Reunion. By Spencer Jones. New 
Vorii - LottgiTi4ns, Grtea & Co. 1902. 



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1903.] Views and Reviews. 401 

Church themselves they would conduct multitudes with them 
who now hesitate because their chieftains waver. 

12. — Mr. Abbott's narrative of his tour in Macedonia* is 
one of the most fascinating books of travel we have ever read. 
The author is a scholar of the University of Cambridge, and 
writes with that large-spirited humanity, philosophic tolerance 
of human limitations, and keenness in taking in a situation, 
which are scarcely possible to any but a deep and genial 
student. He is altogether delightful. Whether he is cheated 
by a piratical official of the Sublime Porte, or starved in a 
villanous Turkish hamlet, or kept awake by the multitudinous 
din and the still more energetic odors wafted from a neighbor- 
ing Ghetto, he is imperturbable and cheerful, and casts about 
to see if there be not in his misfortune matter for a jest. If 
humor smiled upon his journey as it smiles upon his account 
of it, he had a holiday jaunt indeed of pleasure unmixed with 
care. From the point of view of actual interest, too, this vol- 
ume is valuable. The world's eyes are turning to Macedonia 
just now, and once more civilized men are putting to them- 
selves the question : Ought not the unspeakable Turk to be 
driven from the soil of Europe as soon as ever honorable force 
can do it? Mr. Abbott has positive convictions on the point. 
Turkey, he declares, is corrupt and decadent past the possibility 
of cure. Its hideous fanaticism, unilluminated ignorance, and 
ridiculous ineptitude for progressive government, make it a 
reproach to modern times. Very likely in such a conclusion he 
has the support of the vast majority of intelligent men. In the 
description of the monks of Mt. Athos, a description which is in 
general very kindly, there will be some readers who will see a 
narrow view of the monastic vocation; but nothing is said in 
bitterness, and we can hardly bring ourselves into line with any 
severe strictures under this head. For a delightful entertainment 
of a born voyageur^ we know of no book that surpasses this. 

13. — Mr. Willard C. Selleck is a devout deist, and his fore- 
cast f of religion naturally takes for granted the downfall of 
dogma and the establishment of a faith incapable of verbal 

^The Tale of a Tour in Macedonia, By G. F. Abbott. New York: Longmans, Green 
& Co. 

t The spiritual Outlook. By Willard Chamberlain Selleck. Boston : Little, Brown & 
Co. 1902. 



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402 Views and Reviews. [June, 

formulation. His view of Catholicity is in the main kindly; 
he admits many great services done for humanity by the 
church, and he recognizes many an excellent feature in her 
spirit and organization. But she insists on doctrinal precision, 
on the supernatural, on the mysterious and the miraculous, and 
hence is doomed, he tells us. So, he adds, is all religion 
doomed save only that creedless faith which urges men to love 
God and one another. A creedless faith is impossible. Men 
must express their ideas of the God they worship in proposi- 
tions, and these propositions are a creed. And apart from 
abstractions, there is historic Christianity, there is the life of 
Christ, with its definite statements and precepts of belief and 
worship. If those definite statements form a doctrinal system 
established upon miracle, and established upon nineteen cen- 
turies of world- renovating beneficence, they demand that we 
cease a priori judgments on the necessity of creedlessness, and 
see whether or not we have not here the truths vouchsafed to 
us by the Son of God. If a man approaches in a spirit of 
honest criticism the life and^ words of Christ, he will discover 
how baseless is the fascinating delusion that the Lord delivered 
only lovely ethical lessons. He will learn that the mission of 
Christ is inexplicable without dogma — dogma as to the Person 
of Christ, the meaning of His life and death, the Kingdom of 
God and the means of sanctity prescribed for citizenship therein. 
And once clear, precise doctrine is seen to be essential to the 
Christian scheme, and once it is further seen that the Christian 
scheme is divine, the Catholic embodiment of Christianity stands 
squarely in the pathway of the sincere mind. In concluding 
our notice of Mr. Selleck's volume, we again testify with plea- 
sure to his manifest desire to be fair and to his deeply reli- 
gious spirit. 

14 — ^These letters ♦ of the Abbe Snell cut into Protestantism 
at its weakest point. They are almost entirely taken up with 
proving the necessity of an infallible teacher, and in demon- 
strating the insufficiency of private interpretation as a rule of 
faith. The author shows keenly that if we are bound to believe 
God's word because God spoke it, we must be infallibly certi- 
fied that what we are believing is the true, genuine utterance 
of the Most High. If we are not infallibly sure that such and 

• Lettres & un Protestant. Par I'AbW Snell. Paris : Ancienne Maison Chailes Dotiniol. 



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1903.] Views and Reviews. 403 

such teachings are God's own, then we cannot hold them with 
infallible security, and if we do not believe with infallible 
security, then the motive of our faith cannot be the veracity of 
God. And a faith whose motive is not divine truthfulness, but 
trust in our own powers, is not divine supernatural saving faith, 
but feeble, error-beset, and purely human confidence. No true 
act of faith is possible, then, without an infallible oracle to tell 
us what is the word of God. Are the Scriptures privately in- 
terpreted such an oracle ? The Abbe Snell calls up the classi- 
cal arguments to show that they are not. They do not attest 
their own sufficiency, and cannot; they were not the rule of 
belief by which the world was converted, and while they con- 
tain the revelation of God. they may be subjected by private 
judgment to an analysis which extracts from them a thousand, 
contradictory and consequently false interpretations. As there 
is no faith in God without an infallible, teacher of revelation, so 
is there no such infallible teacher save the Catholic Church. 
The argument is invincible, and Abb^ Snell has done religion 
a service in restating it. Unfortunately the number of Prot- 
estants to whom the book would appeal is constantly diminish- 
ing. Only those who hold to the strict, old-fashioned notions 
of faith, revelation, and the authority of Scripture, will be 
touched by the argument. But to the thousands upon thou- 
sands of non- Catholics who have thrown aside the Bible and 
smile at the supernatural, we speak an unknown tongue when 
we assume the need of infallible faith in God. Books of modern 
controversy would do well to start out with a demonstration of 
the necessity of supernatural religion, and of the inadmissibility 
of pure rationalism. Still, this little volume has a legitimate 
place and fills it creditably. A fresh interest attaches to these 
letters from the fact that their author is a convert. Cardinal 
Perraud's preface gives an admirable summary of the argument 
of the entire book. 

15. — This little work of Dr. De Costa* is a timely critique 
of Ritualistic Anglicanism. It is a fond delusion of thousands 
within the Episcopalian body that they may cling to the be- 
liefs and devotions of Catholic antiquity without entering into 
the one fold which is the historic legatee of antiquity. They 

• The Failure of Ritualism, By B. F. De Costa. New York : Christian Press Associa- 
tion. 1902. 



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404 Views and Reviews. [June, 

would have Catholicity, but not the organized faith which has 
preserved and still teaches Catholicity. As well might a man 
in Siberia who had read himself into enthusiasm for the 
American Constitution, say, " I am in America." The halluci- 
nation might last for a few academic moments, but when con- 
fronted with the actualities — tyranny, suffering, and all wretch- 
edness — it would have to vanish, and the poor exile would 
find that he was not in an earthly paradise, but in an abode 
of desolation and despair. Thus Dr. De Costa gently lifts the 
veil from the doctrinal contradictions of Anglicanism, from its 
permitted apostasies, its Low- Church denials and its Broad- 
Church deism, and asks his Ritualistic friends if they can 
imagine this to be the city of ancient peace, the unblemished 
Spouse ot Christ, the Catholic faith of immemorial history. It 
is an effective method, and as it has done good in the past, 
so in this attractive presentation will it do good again. 

16. — Father Gerard has done a genuine service tcr Catholic 
controversy by this admirable compilation.* The Antidote con- 
sists of brief answers to anti-Catholic calumnies ; answers which 
have appeared from time to time in Catholic periodicals, and 
which would be lost to the greater number of readers if they 
remained shut up in the files of magazines. The field covered 
by these bits of controversy is very wide. Indulgences, Sin 
Tariffs, the Iron Virgin, Mariana the Teacher of Regicide, the 
Monita Secreta^ and many other disputed points are touched 
upon. The treatment is always brief, sometimes unsatisfactory, 
but generally keen and decisive. A brochure of this kind is 
often more serviceable for ready reference and aptness of mat- 
ter than great tomes and famous tractates. 

17 — Father Zurbonsen f is a pleasant narrator of the ro- 
mance of travel. Without giving us much of deep historical or 
geographical interest, he chats entertainingly of the places he 
saw and the people he met; and his little book will while 
away a pleasant hour for those whose fancy finds delight in 
roaming over foreign lands. 

18 — A year ago Archbishop Merry del Val was drawn 

* The Antidote. Edited by the Rev. John Gerard. S.J. London : Catholic Truth Society, 
f Rambles through Europe, the Holy Land, and Egypt. By Rev. A. Zurbonsen. St. Louis : 
B. Herder. 



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1903.] Views and Reviews. 405 

into controversy with a Reverend Mr. Oxenham of the Angli- 
. can Church, and in the course of the contention delivered in 
Rome a series of conferences on the Papacy which have now 
appeared in book-form.* In lively style and pointed argumen- 
tation the right reverend author states the Scriptural and the 
historical proofs of the Roman Pontiff's primacy and infallibility, 
and disposes of the objections of Mr. Oxenham — who seems to 
have been, by the way, an antagonist of but mediocre capacity. 
The little volume forms a convenient reference of Papal con- 
troversy, and contains a valuable digest of patristic testimony 
as to St. Peter's office and prerogatives. We regret that the 
original texts of these citations have not been given as well as 
the translation. 

19. — ^The books before us belong to a series of verse transla- 
tions from the Greek dramatic poets, with commentaries and 
explanatory essays, for English readers. Uniform with this 
volume t there have been published the poems of -^schylus as 
the first of the set. The translator of Euripides says his 
object is to put before English readers a translation of some 
very beautiful poetry, and to give some description of a 
remarkable artist and thinker. He has taken two plays of 
Euripides, the " Hippolytus " and " The Bacchae " — chosen 
partly for their beauty, partly because they are very character- 
istic of the poet. Different As they are, both are peculiarly 
imbued with his special atmosphere and purpose. Next, he 
has selected the chief ancient criticism of Euripides, a satire 
penetrating, brilliant, and, though preposterously unfair, still 
exceedingly helpful to any student who does not choose to put 
himself at its mercy. Mr. Murray gives a very valid reason 
why he has placed the hostile burlesque of "The Frogs" of 
Aristophanes in juxtaposition to the wonderful plays of Eu- 
ripides. As to the method of these translations, it is odd but 
interesting and serviceable. The translator's aim was to build 
up something as like the original as possible in the form, and 
likewise (what is more daring and inventive) to take hold of 
the "spirit" beneath the letter. His scruple and fear are that 

* The Truth of Papal Claims. By Raphael Merry del Val, D.D. St. Louis: B. Herder. 
1902. 

\Euripides. Translated into English Rhyming Verse by Gilbert Murray, M.A., LL.D. 
Sophocles. Translated and Explained by John Swinnerton Phillimore, M.A. With Illus- 
trations. New York: Longmans, Green & Co. 



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406 V/EIVS AND REVIEWS. [June, 

the scholars may differ as to what the •'spirit" of Euripides 
really is. We must await their discussion and judgments. In 
the meantime we are pleased to be able to say that the present 
volumes will always be of value and interest to students of 
these immortal productions. 

Not the least merit of Mr. Phillimore's book is the analytic 
introduction to the consideration of the tragedies of "^Edipus 
Tyrannus," "iCdipus Coloneus," and "Antigone." Sophocles, 
although more difficult, is better known and more widely 
translated. This, however, does not take anything from the 
fact that Mr. Phillimore's translation is a substantial contribu- 
tion to the already abundant literature concerning the dramas 
of Sophocles the incomparable. 

20. — A new and improved version of the treatise of the cele- 
brated Venetian centenarian, Louis Cornaro, has just been pub- 
lished.* Cornaro lived from 1464-1566. A descendant of the 
illustrious family, through the dishonest intrigues of relatives he 
was deprived of honors and privileges that belonged to him, retired 
from public life, and spent almost all his time at Padua. This 
injustice was after all a blessing, for it forced his philosophic 
mind to change, as it were, the course of his life and resulted 
in his giving to us the treatise on TAe Temperate Life that has 
made his name famous. 

He was born with a very delicate constitution, and further 
endangered his health by intemperate habits. Seeing that 
death was very close if he continued, he changed his manner 
of life. At the age of ninety-five Cornaro wrote: ** I am cer- 
tain I too should live to that age (one hundred and twenty) 
had it been my good fortune to receive a similar blessing (a 
perfect constitution) at my birth; but because I was born with 
a poor constitution I fear I shall not live much beyond a 
hundred years." Again he writes: "I never knew the world 
was beautiful until I reached old age." A famous portrait of 
Cornaro by Tintoretto hangs in the Pitti Palace of Florence. A 
copy of it forms the frontispiece of the present volume. 

The first edition of The Temperate Life was published at " 
Padua in the year 1558. It has been translated into Latin and 
several other languages. It is divided into four discourses, 

• The Art of Living Long, By Louis Cornaro. Milwaukee : William F. Butler. 

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1903.] Views and Reviews, 407 

written severally at the ages of eighty- three, eighty- six, ninety- 
one, and ninety-five. 

In the first the author speaks of the three abuses of his 
day — adulation, heresy (the Reformation had just extended in- 
to some parts of Italy), and intemperance. The first has im- 
paired the social life, the second the soul's life, and the third 
the life of the body. Cornaro's philosophy may be reduced to 
the phrase, "Be temperate in all things," and the work is an 
exposition of the practical following out of that adage. This 
subject is developed more at length in the second discourse; 
in the third a law of life is stated, in which he writes : "The 
awful thought of death does not trouble me in the least, al- 
though I realize on account of my many years that I am nigh 
to it; for I reflect that I was born to die, and that many 
others have departed this life at a much younger age than 
mine. Nor am I disturbed by that other thought, a companion 
of the foregoing one," namely, the thought of the punishment 
which after death must be suffered for sins committed in this 
life. For I am a good Christian, and as such I am bound to 
believe that I shall be delivered from that punishment by virtue 
of the most Sacred Blood of Christ, which He shed in order to 
free us, His faithful servants, from those pains." 

The fourth discourse is a loving exhortation in which, by 
the authority of his own experience, the aged author would 
persuade all mankind to take up the same orderly life. Selec- 
tions from Bacon's History of Life and Death and from Temple's 
Health and Long Life follow, and also a history of the Cornaro 
family. 

The volume is tastefully gotten up, with some very fine 
illustrations. It is interesting reading and forms something of a 
classic on the subject. It is most important in showing that he 
who runs against nature's law brings destruction upon himself 
both in this world and in the world to come. And is also of 
value to those who wish to live a particularly long time on 
this earth. We are bound, of course, to protect our health — 
not to endanger life; but some of us may not be over-anxious 
to live here too long. At any rate the writing of Cornaro — a 
good Catholic with thoroughly Catholic principles — is of value 
in this: that he shows us how to lead a good life. .And that 
is what we should yearn for. Not a short life nor a long life 
— but whatsoever God may wish it — at least a good life. 



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408 Views and Reviews. [June, 

21. — The details and the lessons of the life of St. Margaret 
of Cortona are set forth in the present issue of The CATHOLIC 
World Magazine by the able pen of Father Cuthbert, O.S.F.C. 
A new life of St. Margaret has just been published.* 

Perhaps nothing will do so much to show forth the value of 
the spirit of penance, and arouse our souls to it in these days 
of spiritual inactivity and of material comfort, than such read- 
ing as this. The present work, if it does that even to the 
smallest extent, will have fulfilled its mission. 

The most authoritative biographer of St. Margaret is Father 
Bevegnati. He was the confessor of St. Margaret in the days 
of her change of life — in her journey up the hill of perfection, 
her director and her guide through all her wonderful career, 
and finally gave her the last rites for her journey to the All- 
Perfect One Himself. Being thus the confidant of all the 
secrets of her own soul and of .the personal, intimate manifesta- 
tions that God made to St. Margaret, Father Bevegnati was 
well suited to write her life. But perhaps he was too enrap- 
tured with that part of her days that he knew best and longest. 
At least he omits anything like a scientific, chronological arrange- 
ment, and fails in picturing the details of those years that make 
St. Margaret's sanctity shine all the clearer and brighter — the 
days of her sinful wanderings. Perhaps he is to be excused 
from this, for Father Bevegnati's main purpose was not to give 
a full historical biography, but only to show forth the holiness 
of the subject that the claims for her canonization might be 
justified. 

The events of St. Margaret's early life are familiar to xrost 
Catholics, or at least can be found in the pages of our current 
number. Mr. O'Connor, the translator also, by the way, of St. 
Francis of Assist, has done his best in a historical way to 
supply details of incidents and of arrangement that were want- 
ing in Father Bevegnati's work. He opens with a statement of 
the condition of Italy in the second half of the thirteenth cen- 
tury, from which arose a providential mission for St. Margaret 
somewhat after the manner of that of St. Catherine of Siena. 
The unhappy years of childhood are then pictured, together 
with the fall and the great sin. Then comes the account of 



• St, Aftir^artt of Cortona, the Magdalen of the Seraphic Order. By Rev. Leopold De 
Uflee. D*S.FX. Sole authorized Translation, by R. T. O'Connor. New York: Bcn- 



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1903.] Views and Reviews. 409 

her conversion, her penance, and her religious vocation. These 
are followed by many chapters on her interior life. A list of 
the hagiographical sources consulted by the author is added. 
The book has many illustrations. Mr. O'Connor has done his 
work well, and merits much praise, but he has allowed his 
English to suffer at times by a too close adherence to the 
original French. With the Life of St. Francis already published 
and the Life of St. Clare of Assisi, which is in preparation by 
the same translator, the present volume will help to complete a 
hagiographical trilogy illustrative of the Franciscan spirit and 
action in the middle ages. 

22. — ^We regret that this volume. The Girlhood of Our 
Lady,* did not arrive in time for a notice at the most appro- 
priate time for it, the month of May. 

Miss Brunowe has taken up the birth, the early incidents, 
and the marriage of the Virgin Mary, pictured them with her 
best power of taste and expression, added here and there an 
adornment of her own making, or a flower from some story of 
tradition, and called the whole "The Girlhood of Mary." The 
book is, as we have said, well written, illustrated with a wealth 
of good half-tones, and with its detailed coloring of Scriptural 
scenes and places, will go far towards giving a knowledge of 
Mary's early days and surroundings, to the young folks par- 
ticularly. Both because of its mechanical make-up and this 
exceptionally attractive presentation of Mary's girlhood, it will, 
we are sure, find a welcome among the children of Mary. 

Yet we cannot but wish that in some cases stories that 
have no foundation save in the fancies of some over- zealous 
imaginations, were separated with greater care from the abso- 
lute Scriptural truth. Pretty and attractive in themselves, these 
tales oftentimes make us lose, if not entirely, at least in some 
measure, the force of the simple account of the Gospels. For 
example, if Mary was accustomed from her earliest years to 
read the seventh chapter of the Book of Wisdom, and to 
understand it most wonderfully, and to feel the invisible pres- 
ence of angels, surely then the message of the Archangel 
would not have begotten that complete surprise ^* troubling** 
the soul of the Virgin who, simply because she believed 

• The Girlhood of Our Lady. By Marion J. Brunowe. New York : The Cathedral 
Library Association. 



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410 Views and Reviews. [June, 

she was not worthy to be the mother of the Messias, chose a 
life of virginity. It was this humility that God regarded. Of 
course in the case of older readers this criticism would be 
unjust, for they would do what the author wants them to do — 
separate fiction from truth. But we look for the book to do 
good work among the young particularly, and without a teacher 
they could not always make this distinction. 



MRS. HUMPHREY WARD'S LATEST NOVEL.* 

Lady Rose was an Englishwoman who left her husband for 
no other reason than his dull, unresponsive nature, which 
irritated her own vain, frivolous temperament. She eloped with 
an artist of socialist tendencies, one of the type so common in 
these days of exaggerated ideas of the mission of democracy ; 
aptly described by the authoress in the picture given of the 
home they fled to near Brussels, where on the wall there hung 
" photographs or newspaper portraits of modern men and 
women representing all possible revolt against authority, politi- 
cal, religious, even scientific, the everlasting NO of an untiring 
and ubiquitous dissent!" Of course their fine-spun sophistries 
of self-justification on the ground of genius and temperament 
being above the law for the common herd, did not change the 
usual result of such unlawful violations of the marriage bond, 
the destruction of which the world outside the Catholic Church 
never will learn means also the slaughter of society. They 
died in ostracism and poverty, raging at an unfeeling world, 
whose banishment they deliberately invited. 

One child was the sole earthly remnant of that unholy 
union. She, under the name of Julie Le Breton, is the heroine 
of the story. She is described as mysteriously beautiful, not 
actually so, tall, hair luxuriant, black as night, which against 
the pallor of face, and linked with eyes of marvellous expres- 
sion, makes up the mystical witchery of personality which 
certain authors like to conjure with. The characters in the 
book move at the will of this wondrous creature — the most of 
them vexed at themselves for doing so. She is lawless, un- 
conventional, on the point once in the book of doing irrepar- 

• Lady Rose's Daughter, By Mrs. Humphry Ward. New York : Harper & Brothers. 



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1903.] Views and Reviews. 411 

able folly as serious as her mother's — the excuse for which is 
plausibly blamed by the authoress on her origin and training. 
She is in the end watched over and saved and finally married 
to Jacob Delafield, the hero who is supposed to properly 
domesticate this beautiful wild animal. 

From the stand-point of a Catholic the book is pernicious. 
The heroine is a Catholic who is said to be too clever for the 
nuns who taught her. When she dallied none too discreetly 
with the affections of a man who was about to be married to 
another woman, the authoress apologizes by saying that she 
had been brought up among the Latin races, who habitually 
hold light views of married people's love affairs with others. 
Again, the authoress compares disparagingly the Catholic idea 
of " Recollection," as implying in the life of the religious 
" fetters and self-suppressions," compared with Jacob Delafield's 
" Recollection," " living in the eye of the Eternal, possessed by 
the passion of the Spiritual ideal; in love with charity, purity, 
simplicity of life." The hero is a mystic, an ascetic. Upon his 
enthusiastic fervor, his creedless religion, all the admiration of 
the authoress is bestowed. She almost infers that this man's 
visions were supernatural, and Julie's cold Catholic training 
yields finally to his absorbing, trance-like spiritual devotions. 
The authoress even dares to say that after one of these seasons 
of prayer Julie was "afraid" of this man — evidently referring 
to the fear as like the Apostles' fear of our Lord in his super- 
natural moods ; else why does she put the word " afraid " in 
quotations ? 

Religiously the book is trash, of a common sort, unhappily, 
in these days of sermons from penny journals ; authority in 
religion is ignored and creedless love of the unknown God is 
put on a pedestal to be adored. As a study of the frivolous 
life of ignoble people in high life in England it is interesting 
and at times powerful, though far from edifying. The sole 
relief from a dark background of worldliness is the religious 
hero, who to the instructed Catholic is pitifully benighted. 



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«^ «^ * Xibtat^ XTable. m m m 



The Tablet (4 April) : Roman Correspondent denies the truth 
of the rumor that Abbe Loisy has been called to Rome, 
and that his book would be examined by the Biblical 
Commission and probably condemned. Mentions a pam- 
phlet criticising Abbe Loisy's book by Fr. Palmieri, on 
which the Civilta Cattolica comments favorably. The 
Civilta declares that Abb^ Loisy has violated a cardinal 
principle of Catholic apologetics in his well-intentioned 
desire to confute Harnack. 

(11 April): E. C. Butler writes a letter in which he 
says that Tablet readers who know Loisy's book only 
through its columns will wonder why the book is not 
going on the Index. If it were judged by the standard 
of absolute Catholic faith, Loisy himself would concur 
in some of Fr. Palmieri's strictures. He himself warns 
his readers that judged by this standard his book is 
"very defective and incomplete, notably in what con- 
cerns the divinity of Christ and the authority of the 
Church." Loisy's method is to take the Gospels, etc., 
exactly as Harnack does — />., as merely human docu- 
ments — and to test whether Harnack's conception of 
essential Christianity and his rejection of Catholicism 
really issue from his own premises, interpreted by his 
own methods. The picture drawn under those limita- 
tions, though by a master hand, is but a barest outline; 
yet it is the outline of nothing else than traditional 
Catholicism. It is vain to present to those against 
whom the abb^ writes the treatises De Incarnatione, for 
they do not see such a Christ in the Gospels. The 
book is apologetic, and apologetics, like tongues, are 
for unbelievers, not believers. A statement of Catholi- 
cism may be true from the critic's historical stand- point, 
and yet theologically inadequate ; but it is important, in 
face of current modes of thought, to have an expression 
of Catholicism in the bare language of severely critical 
history. 



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1903.] Library Table. 413 

Fr. Kent, O.S.C., on the same subject, says that in 
view of Abbe Loisy's submission, it seems neither just 
nor generous to publish a crude list of his alleged errors. 
Taken by themselves they present a false impression of 
a book which in the main is a powerful argument for 
Catholicism. Why preserve the errors so that all who 
run may read them, if the book is to be kept from the 
public ? Suppose the Roman Correspondent's list of 
errors is true, they may bear a different meaning in the 
context. No candid reader can accept it as accurate, 
and Fr. Kent characterizes the list as a grotesque per- 
version of Abbe Loisy's meaning. 

Fr. Vincent McNab, O.P., asks hagiographers if there 
is any historical foundation for the astounding, not to 
say scandalous, promise of final perseverance contained 
in the twelfth promise to Blessed Margaret Mary, viz.: 
*' To those who communicate on the first Friday of the 
month for nine consecutive months, / promise the grace 
of final repentance ; they shall not die in my disfavor*^ 
etc. Assuredly there is no theological justification 
for it. 

(18 April): Wilfrid Ward quotes Cardinal Newman to 
support Fr. Butler and Fr. Kent in reference to the 
censures recently passed on Loisy's book : " . . . 
Every human writer is open to just, criticism. Make 
him shut up his portfolio,' and then perhaps you lose 
what on the whole and in spite of incidental mistakes 
would have been one of the ablest defences of Revealed 
Truth ever given to the world." "I do not know what 
Catholic would not hold the name of Malebranche in 
veneration, but he may have accidentally come into col- 
lision with theologians or made temerarious statements 
notwithstanding. The practical question is whether he 
had not much better written as he has written than not 
have written at all" {^Idea of a University^ p. 477). Mr. 
Ward says the general principle is of tenfold importance 
at a time like the present. 

Roman Correspondent writes that he simply puts 
readers in possession of public and weighty expression 
of opinion in Rome on actual questions of the day, and 
not his own personal opinions. 

VOL. LXXVII. — 27 

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414 Library Table. [June, 

Theodore A. Metcalf, J. G., C. C. Fernensis, Cuthbert 
Robinsim write on the twelfth promise to Blessed Mar- 
garet Mary. Fr. Thurston says that the leaflet quoted 
by Fr. McNab does not give her utterance accurately. 
The essentially conditional character of all such promises 
should be insisted upon. The Hand-book of the Apostle~ 
ship of Prayer does this, and from it it appears that 
Bl. Margaret Mary herself believed our Lord to have 
promised "the grace of final repentance" to those who 
made the nine Fridays, and this belief was no bar to 
her beatification. A writer quotes these words of the 
Bishop of Aberdeen : " Far be it from a bishop to say 
anything to curb or check one's devotion. Far be it 
from us to say that it is not a good thing, for example, 
to go to Holy Communion on nine consecutive First 
Fridays in nine consecutive months. It is an excellent 
practice, but it would be better to go on ten, and better 
still on eleven or twelve. But this we will say, that it 
is not a good thing if these first consecutive Fridays 
will interfere with Communions on Sundays and Holy- 
days of Obligation. " 

(25 April) : Frs. McNab and O'Hare, Evangelist, and 
Confessor^ continue the discussion on the twelfth promise. 
Le Correspondant (April 10): Continuing his study of the war 
of 1870 M. Lamy presents an estimate of the resources 
remaining to France after the capitulation of Sedan. M. 
Pierre de la Gorge (Etudes d*histoire contemporaine) 
reviews the origin of the candidature of the Prussian 
prince for the Spanish throne. A highly appreciative 
criticism of the Polish Countess Zamorska's little volume 
on education is contributed by Cardinal Perraud. The 
story illustrative of what may be expected as the results 
of the divorce laws (La Loi Nouvelle) is continued (M. 
Leroux Cesbron). 

(April 25): The second paper of M. Lamy on the 
Franco -Prussian war treats of the anarchical character of 
the defence made by the subsidiary forces after the fall 
of Napoleon IIL M. Pierre de la Gorge {La France et 
la Prusse avant la Guerre) gives a very detailed account 
of the march of events from the third of July till the 
eleventh, when Prince Anthony withdrew his son's can- 



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1903.] Library Table. 415 

didature. Marie Andre has a lively sketch of the curi- 
ous epistolary friendship which existed between the two 
dreamers, Frederick Wilttsun IV. of Prussia and Madame 
D'Arnim. M. Paul Thureau-Dangan (La Renaissance 
Catholique en Angle ter re au dix-neuvieme Steele) has a 
review of the position of Pusey and Wilberforce after 
the conversion of Manning. La Loi Nouvelle is con- 
tinued. 

Im Quinzaine (May i): Severely arraigning the bitter animos- 
ity of Michiels towards Sainte-Beuve, M. Michaud intro- 
duces six unpublished letters of a very friendly tenor 
from Sainte-Beuve to the younger critic. M. I. Dela- 
porte contributes an interesting paper, drawn from the 
disclosures made by the Grand Duke of Baden, on the 
methods pursued by the Prussian Chancellor and his 
helpers for the establishment of the German Empire. 
M. Fonsegrive continues his discussion of matrimonial 
institutions; he takes a historical aperpu of the ethnic 
estimate of the marriage contract 

Civilta Cattolifa (2 May): Contains an article on Loisy's 
UJSvangile et rj£glise^ declaring that Harnack's book 
was the pretext rather than the occasion of Loisy's writ- 
ing; that the latter errs through lack of sound criticism 
and of full and exact acquaintance with the Gospel and 
with Catholic Christianity; that P. Palmieri has traced 
Loisy's mistakes to a holding back from the mind and 
the historical tradition of the church; that PP. Grand- 
maison, SJ., and Bouvier, S.J., have confuted Loisy suc- 
cessfully ; that P. Lagrange has denounced Loisy's critical 
theories, and that if Father Kent had studied Loisy's book 
he would not have censured its critics, including the 
Civilth (evidently without having read it), in his letter to 
the London Tablet. 

Discusses "a new way of writing the lives of the 
saints," giving special attention to the Joly series (Lecoffre), 
and in particular criticising the recently published life of 
St. Gaetan by R. De Maulde La Claviere, whose work 
is declared to make the saint out as much moie prone 
to human weakness than is compatible with his real 
character and with his canonization by the church. 

Razon y Fe (May) : P. Ruiz Amado writes at some length on 



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4i6 LIBRARY TABLE. [June, 

the education of youth as being a divine vocation rather 
than an industry, and tells how, at great sacrifice, re- 
ligious congregations set up establishments and devote 
their lives and means to the work of teaching. P. 
Ugarte discusses the present situation in Psychology and 
finds four tendencies — Neo-Kantism, Evolutionary Posi- 
tivism, Cellular Psychology, and Scholastic Psychology. 
He concludes his discussion of the " Back to Kant " 
movement with a dilemma : If Kant is not in the rear, 
how go back ? if he is, how go back, without retrograd- 
ing. P. Cirera discusses Clerk Maxwell's theories on the 
nature of electricity and their corroboration by later 
experiments.. 

Revue des Questions Scientifiques (April) : Dr. Hector Lebrun, in 
an article entitled " The Study of the Biological Sciences 
in the United States," maintains that Belgium in the 
construction of her projected maritime laboratories should 
seek enlightenment in America rather than copy the insti- 
tutions and methods of the Zoological Station at Naples, 
which has for so long served as a model for almost all 
similar institutions in Europe. He treats of the status of 
the science of Biology in the United States, and gives a 
lengthy description of the laboratories of Wood's HoU 
and Cold Spring Arbor, both of which he found to be 
excellent institutions, but the former he believes, on 
account of its admirable location and thorough equip- 
ment, offers advantages for originalTresearch in the study 
of maritime fauna and flora nowhere surpassed. 

Stimtnen aus Maria-Laach (21 April): The storm which Prof. 
Delitzsch has caused by his lectures on " Babel and the 
Bible" is still raging; and this in spite of the adverse 
criticism of several eminent Assyriologists. Shouts of 
triumph from the far North to Sicily among free-thinkers, 
clamors from orthodox Protestants, meetings of protest 
among the Jews, criticisms without end from the ranks 
of scholars, still continue. P. Kugler, S.J., thinks that 
the disturbance is mainly due to the fact that the "ruling 
intelligence " of Germany — the Emperor with his consort, 
and their retinue — attended the lectures. Harnack at- 
tributes Delitzsch's success to "favorable circumstances." 
The first lecture was delivered in Berlin, Jan. 13, 1902, 



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1903.] Library Table. 417 

and repeated in the royal palace a few weeks later. 
Some of the views expressed in it concerning the Old 
Testament were far from "conservative." The introduc- 
tion to the address of last January was a statement of 
what Assyriology has done for the Bible. "But soon," 
says Fr. Kugler, " the professor roams into the land of 
fancy, to the home of the Bedouins, where the grandeur of 
the world of stars and the intense heat which broods over 
endless deserts, produce in the mind wonderful pictures 
which startle even sober, northern minds." How 
astonished we are to hear that the Babylonians ascribed 
a marvellous power to the spittle. In a prayer to the 
god of Babylon we read : " O Morduk, thine is the 
spittle of life." " Does not this suggest certain narratives 
in the New Testament," says Delitzsch — 'V. ^., when 
Jesus took the deaf and dumb man aside, put his finger 
into his ear, and touched his tongue with spittle? And 
as for raising the dead to life, even to-day, an Oriental 
physician who could not wake (!) the dead, would not 
dare appear in public." After his audience had been 
prepared for the worst, the professor said : " Revelation 1 
One could scarcely imagine a greater aberration of the 
human mind than that which, for centuries, supposed 
the invaluable remnants of Hebrew literature to be a 
religious canon, a book of revealed religion." 



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^ Comment on (Eutrent XCopice,^ 



In the widespread discussion, both civil and 
A Most Important ecclesiastical, which is now being carried on 
over the matter of marriage and divorce, 
two decisions of the United States Supreme Court, rendered 
during its present session, have not received the attention 
which their importance demands. Heretofore it has been cus- 
tomary for those anxious to be free from the obligation of 
marriage to betake themselves to some State where the divorce 
laws are not exacting, give their consciences into that State's 
keepiing; jemploy its laws, and return home, as they believe, free 
m:n and womsn, and often, alas! to be received into society 
as reputable persons. But against such a practice, which has 
grown to be a national disgrace, the highest court of the land 
has put a stop. In both decisions of which we speak, the 
Supreme Court affirmed the decisions of the State courts which 
declared invalid, in the one case a Dakota, and in the other an 
Oklahoma divorce. - 

The opinion in the former case, written by Justice White, 
makes ytry interesting and instructive reading. '' Marriage," 
he writes, "is something more than a mere contract. The con- 
sent of the parties is of course essential to its existence, but 
when the contract to marry is executed by the marriage, a 
relation between the parties is created which they cannot change. 
Other contracts may be modified, restricted or enlarged, or en- 
tirely released upon the consent of the parties. Not so with 
marriage. The relation once formed, the law steps in and holds 
the parties to various obligations and liabilities. It is an insti- 
tution, in the maintenance of which in its purity the public is 
deeply interested, for it is the foundation of society, without 
which there would be neither civilization nor progress." 

The decision of the Supreme Court lays down the principle 
that any State may pass a statute which renders invalid a 
divorce obtained legally in another State by one of its own 
citizens, in which the applicant took up his residence for a 
time merely for the purpose of obtaining a divorce. In this 
particular case Massachusetts refused to recognize a Dakota 
divorce, and the Massachusetts court was upheld. After the 



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1903.] Comment on Current Topics. 419 

same manner South Carolina, for example, might refuse to 
recognize any divorce wherever obtained. It has generally been 
assumed that a divorce obtained anywhere according to the law 
of the State, would be recognized throughout the Union on 
the general principle that a divorce legal where granted is legal 
everywhere, and under the provision of the Federal Constitu- 
tion that ''full faith and credit shall be given in each State to 
the public acts, records, and judicial proceedings of every 
other." But the Supreme Court holds that this applies only 
to a bona fide residence, not one undertaken in fraudem legis. 

The Supreme Court states that it could not maintain that 
this action of the Massachusetts Court was a violation of this 
article of the Constitution ''without saying that the States 
must, in the nature of things, always possess the power to 
legislate for the preservation of the morals of society, but 
that they need not have the continued authority to save society 
from destruction." 

Hereafter, if dissatisfied husbands and wives get a Dakota 
divorce, they risk the danger of having that divorce declared 
void by the courts of their own State. The decision will be 
something of a check to the growing evil of divorce. Giving 
the States a knowledge of their power, may it also lead them 
to express their respect for that which, in the words of Justice 
White, is the only safeguard of society and the only warrant 
of progress. 

It shows at least the miserably chaotic condition of our 
divorce laws, and makes ridiculous the editorial remark of the 
New York Churchman in criticising Father Coppen's article on 
marriage, " that the whole question (of marriage) is simplified 
and clarified ^f marriage is regarded as a civil contract subject 
to regulation by the state, to which the church gives her 
blessing when conditions would not make that blessing vain." 

The most important action of the American 
Medical Ethics. Medical Association in their convention, 

held early in May at New Orleans, was the 
adoption of a code of medical ethics. It is argued that the 
adoption of this code will bring the members of the profession 
into perfect harmony, doing away with every reason for discord 
and difference. The code bespeaks a high standard indeed, in 
which the sense of morality and of charity are well blended. 



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420 Comment on Current Topics. [June, 

But it is none too high for that profession which of all secular 
ones we believe to be the most dignified, the most important, 
and the most responsible. The code is quite exhaustive. It 
defines the duties of physicians to their patients; the services 
of physicians to one another; and their duties to the public. 
With regard to the first point, physicians must not disclose 
any of the private affairs of the patient, and timely notice 
should be given of dangerous manifestations to the friends of 
the patient and to the patient himself, if necessary. This is 
most important from a Catholic point of view. The patient 
must not be abandoned if found incurable. 

Physicians must be temperate in all things; must not em- 
ploy public or private advertisements, and must not boast of 
cures and remedies, nor accept rebates on prescriptions. 

Physicians should not treat themselves or their families, 
nor charge for services given to a brother physician or a mem- 
ber of his immediate family. They must not pay commission 
to any one who recommends them, nor desert their post in 
cases of pestilence. 

The report of the Tenement House Depart- 
Tenement Houses ^^^^ ^j j^^^ York printed in the May issue 

of Charities gives more than abundant — yes, even horrifying 
proof of the warranted protest against the attempt of certain 
inhuman beings who sought during the latest session of the 
New York Legislature to break down the wholesome Tenement 
House Laws. These laws were themselves enacted at the sug- 
gestion of an expert commission. And it is most fortunate for 
the poor and for the name of New York State that the bill 
introduced under the supervision of Mr. De Forest has become 
a law. 

The report given in Charities tells of the pitiable conditions 
that prevail among the tenements of the East Side of New 
York City. Pigs and goats were found living in the cellars of 
bakeries. " On rainy days the maccaroni was dried in the 
room with the goats. The pig- stye opened directly into a 
bakery. The plumbing and sewerage were often in a condition 
that made certain the breeding of disease and death." The 
work of this report covers 82,000 tenement houses. The de- 
partment has found 325,000 sleeping rooms with absolutely no 
ventilation or light save from the door. 



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1903.] Comment on Current Topics, 421 

Surely if wc are unable to do the work of humanity abroad 
for other nations, which we are so nobly anxious to do, we 
might do a little more of it at our very doors. 

AChangeofHame. '^^'^ Episcopal Church is again agitating for 
a change of name. So far the movement 
seems to be in favor only with the clergy. Of ten conventions 
held recently to discuss the matter only one — Florida — voted 
for a change, and that by a large majority; but the name of 
American Catholic Church was carried by a small majority. In 
the conventions the lay element was decidedly against the 
change, and many who voted for change did not know what 
change they wanted. 

But, alas! to give a child a new name does not change the 
circumstances of its birth. 

^^ _.^ «, ^ We have endeavored from time to time to 
Charity Work. 

give some idea of the extent of the work 

of the St. Vincent de Paul Society. During the summer 
months the Society makes special efforts to relieve, in some 
measure at least, the distress of the crowded, poor children of 
the city. This work has been carried on successfully for the 
past four years in the old Furman mansion at Baychester. 
The Society has now secured a new property and a larger 
Fresh-air Home, which will be opened in June. Last year the 
New York Society gave a two-weeks' free outing to nearly one 
thousand children of the tenements. The new purchase of the 
Rockland County farm will enable it to double its work this 
year. It is a work, which in the best sense of the word de- 
serves the support and encouragement of those who love the 
poor. 

We have received for review the new volumes of the En^ 
cyclopcedia Britannica. These volumes constitute, in combina- 
tion with the existing volumes of the ninth edition, the tenth 
edition of the Britannica^ and form in themselves an indepen- 
dent library of reference, dealing with the most recent events in 
the world and their developments. A review of the volumes 
will appear in our pages. 



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422 The Columbian reading Union. (June, 



THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION. 

PR twenty-five years the Gaelic Society of New York has maintained a 
heroic struggle to provide facilities for the study of the language in which 
St. Patrick preached the doctrines of the Catholic Church in Ireland. To 
commemorate this event an excellent programme was arranged for the annual 
Feis Ceoil Agus Seanachas, held in Carnegie Hall. Showing the progress of 
the movement, the following statement was given in a neat pamphlet : The 
Commissioner of Education in Ireland for the year 1877 refused to recognize 
Irish as the vernacular of the country — to-day the language is taught in more 
than 1,600 schools as a living speech during school hours. In 1880 two sticks 
of Irish appeared once a week in an out-of-the-way corner of the Dublin Free- 
man ; to-day the Gaelic League publishes a monthly magazine and a weekly 
newspaper in Irish, three private weekly ventures are propagating the princi- 
ples of the Gaelic Revival, and nearly every magazine or periodical of standing 
has its font of Irish type and prints from a column to a page. 

In 1880 the superb creations of the Bards of Gaelic Ireland were scarcely 
known at Irish concerts or gatherings ; to-day there is no I rish concert deserv- 
ing the name at which their genius is not represented and the glowing influ- 
ence of their song felt. Better yet, the evidence of the growth of a school of 
composers worthy their great predecessors is manifest. 

In 1882 a congress in the interest of the Irish language was held in Dub- 
lin; less than fifty persons attended, but excited no special interest; in 1897 
the ancient Irish institutions of the Oireachtas was revived in Dublin ; in 1902 
it lasted for a week, with more than 600 entries for the literary and musical 
competitions, and thousands of visitors in attendance from every part of Ire- 
land and Britain — from which centre radiates every effort directed to the moral, 
literary, artistic, and economic betterment of Ireland. The branches affiliated 
to the Gaelic League in Dublin number 475, with a membership of fifty thou- 
sand. 

In 1880 there were 750,000 Irish speakers in a population of 5,450,000. 
In 1902, though the population had dwindled to 4,500,000 and the loss by 
emigration fell largely on Irish-speaking districts, there were still left more 
than 700,000 Irish speakers throughout Ireland. 

The objects of the New York Gaelic Society are to promote and foster the 
study of the language, literature, music, and art of Ireland. 

To encourage the study of Irish history and of Irish civilization and ideals, 
and to extend an acquaintance with the history of the Irish race in America, 
and its contributions towards the creation and development of the American 
Republic. 

To assist the movement in Ireland for the revival of the national language, 
music, art, and industries. 

Classes in the Irish language are held every Wednesday evening through- 
out the year from 8 o'clock until 10; classes for the study of Irish music and 
Irish history are held during the spring, autumn, and winter. Lectures on 



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1903.] The Columbian Reading Union. 423 

various subjects within the scope of the society's work are delivered frequently, 
and many of the ancient Irish festivals are duly commemorated by appropriate 
musical and literary exercises. 

There is no charge for admission to any of the classes or lectures. To 
enable it to continue and extend this work, the society earnestly appeals to all 
sympathizers for active support. 

The society is non-political and non-sectarian. 

Information as to membership can be had upon application to the secre- 
tary, No. 47 West Forty-second Street, New York City. 

♦ « ♦ 

Under the direction of Dr. Richard Morse Hodge, lecturer in Bible study, 
and Professor Frank M. McMurry, of the department of elemtentary educa- 
tion, a Sunday-school has been started at Teachers' College, New York City, to 
instruct teachers in a branch of work which, for the most part, has received 
little scientific educational attention. In respect to this' phase of the Teachers* 
College work. Dean Russell recently said : 

We may deplore the wretched work of our Sunday-schools, but nothing 
better can be expected until better teachers are available. The endowment of 
a single professorship is all that is needed to begin a work which, so far as I 
know, has never yet been attempted, but which is greatly needed for the edu- 
cation of the American children. 

Evidently Dean Russell is not fully cognizant of all the facts in this mat- 
ter. During ten years past the Catholic Summer-School at Cliff Haven, N. Y., 
on Lake Champlain, has provided at each session a course of instruction by 
specialists in Sunday-school work, who are also quite at home in the domain 
of pedagogy. Under the auspices of the Paulist Fathers, a Child Study Con- 
gress was held in the year 1897, at Columbus Hall, New York City, chiefly to 
discuss the laws of spiritual growth and to foster the study of religious knowl- 
edge among children. For over twenty years a very high standard of excel- 
lence has been maintained in the Sunday-school connected with the Church 
of St. Paul the Apostle, corner Sixtieth Street and Columbus Avenue, where 
the average attendance is rarely below sixteen hundred. About two years ago 
a normal training class for catechists was established by Mrs. B. Ellen Burke, 
in conjunction with the managers of St. Rose's Settlement, No. 323 East 
Sixty- fifth Street. From October, 1902, to May, 1903, these Catechists and 
others attended the course of free lectures at the hall of St. Vincent Ferrer, 
Sixty-sixth Street and Lexington Avenue, indicated in the following list: 

The Confraternity of Christian Doctrine and its Saints. Rev. James N. 
Connolly. 

Attendance at Catechism. Rev. Dennis J. McMahon, D.D. 

Sunday-school Discipline. Rev. Michael J. Lavelle. 

Devices for Securing Interest. Rev. Michael J. Considine. 

The Art of Questioning. Rev. Thomas L. Kinkead. 

The Sunday-school and the Spiritual Life. Rev. Henry A. Brann. 

Bible Study in the Sunday-school. Rev. Joseph H. McMahon. Ph.D. 

The Sunday-school as a Social Factor. Rev. William O'Brien Pardow, S.J. 

Sunday-school Music. Rev. Richard O. Hughes. 

The Children's Mass. Rev. Thomas McMillan, C.S.P. 



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424 The Columbian Reading Union [June, 

Teacher and Parent. Rev. Charles H. Colton. 
The Teacher as Missionary. Rev. Clement M. Thuente, O.P. 
Has Controversy a Place in the Sunday-school ? Rev. Thomas J. Cullen, 
C.S.P. 

Jhe Instruction of Ignorant Adults. Rev. S. R. Brockbank, O.P. 

♦ ♦ ♦ 

A Reading Circle Manual, by Humphrey J. Desmond, editor of the 
Catholic Citizen, Milwaukee, contains many useful suggestions and lines of 
reading gathered from some of the best workers. It deserves a large circula- 
tion, and will be found of special value to beginners seeking for guidance in 
the choice of books. On page 43 due credit is given to The Columbian Read- 
ing Union department of The Catholic World Magazine, established 
June, 1889, but.there is no mention of the fact that the Ozanam Reading Cir- 
cle was formed in 1886 among the graduates of St. Paul's Sunday-school, New 
York City. Another important point omitted is, that the discussion of the 
need of a general movement for courses of reading after graduation was begun 
in the department ** With Readers and Correspondents " of The Catholic 
World Magazine for December, 1888. The first unsigned communication 
was written in Milwaukee, Wis., by Miss Julie £. Perkins. Further particu- 
lars regarding her valuable personal service in awakening latent forces for the 
practical realization of her plan, may be found in the Tribute of Praise, pub- 
lished in The Catholic World Magazine, August, 1894, shortly after her 
lamented death. She had very strong convictions that the Catholic people of 
high position in social life were in many cases allowing the intellectual oppor- 
tunities of the present age to be monopolized by shallow, self-constituted 
leaders. Her efforts to make known the enduring claims of Catholic authors 
deserve perpetual remembrance. 

The request for a discussion of the plans submitted by Miss Perkins was 
answered by numerous letters from readers of The Catholic World Maga- 
zine, showing that in the United States, in Canada, in Australia, and through- 
out the immense area of the English-speaking world there was need of a wider 
diffusion of the best Catholic literature. From reliable sources of information 
it was estimated that thousands of dollars were annually spent by Catholics, 
especially in the rural districts, for ponderous subscription books. Unscrupu- 
lous agents grossly misrepresented the value of such publications, while 
enemies of the church were enabled to point the finger of derision at the vul- 
gar display of shocking bad taste in printing, binding, and caricature photo- 
graphs of distinguished ecclesiastics. Proofs were abundant that avaricious 
publishers had engaged in the nefarious work of deceiving simple people, 
seeking to establish the impression that the sale of these books in some way 
procured revenue for the church. A vast field of activity for intelligent 
Catholics having wealth, leisure, and zeal was thus brought into public view. 
The intellectual defence of the truth under existing conditions required an 
organized movement to secure the best books of Catholic leaders in literature, 
and banish from Catholic homes the clumsy volume kept on a marble-top table. 

* • • 

By request of A S. D. the back numbers of The Catholic World 
Magazine have been examined to find an article contrasting George Eliot and 



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1903.] The CoLUAfBiAN Reading Union. 425 

Mrs. Craven. September, 1873, ^^^ ^e <i2ite when the article appeared, and 
it was written by the late John McCarthy, formerly assistant editor of The 
Catholic World Magazine, who is best known as the author of an excel- 
lent short History of the World still for sale in Barclay Street. 

« • • 

The young man who wrote to inquire about the difference of opinion be- 
tween Catholics and Socialists will find much information in an erudite article 
by Wilfrid Ward published in the American Catholic Quarterly Review^ 
January, 1903 — Philadelphia, 211 South Sixth Street. It contains an outline 
of the Catholic Social Movement in France, Switzerland, Germany, and 
Austria, together with a statement of principles and the events that brought 
the discussion to the attention of Pope Leo XIII. A small volume entitled 
The Pope and the People contains an admirable condensation of Pope Leo*s 
teaching on many subjects relating to the welfare of society. It is to be hoped 
that Wilfrid Ward's article will be republished in pamphlet form. Labor 
leaders would derive much wisdom from the account given of Count de Mun, 
M. Leon Harmel, Bishop Von Ketteler, and other distinguished workers for 

• the people. 

• * * 

The Light Behind is the title of a new novel by Mrs. Wilfrid Ward, which 
has been highly praised by some critics not given to partiality in regard to 
books by Catholic authors. It is not generally known that Mrs. Ward is the 
daughter of the late James Robert Hoe Scott, who inherited Abbotsford, the 
famous seat of Sir Walter Scott. Her mother, Lady Victoria Howard, was , 
daughter of the late Duke of Norfolk. Her husband, Wilfrid Ward, was the 
son of Mr. George Ward, the friend of Cardinal Newman. Mr. Ward is the 
historian of the Oxford Movement and the Catholic Revival, and is the author 
of the life of his father, and also of The Life and Times of Cardinal Wiseman, 
Many were repelled from reading Mrs. Ward's first novel by the title — 
One Poor Scruple — published a short time ago by Longmans, Green & Co., 
although it is a most interesting story of modern English life. Various types 
of characters are introduced, such as the chivalrous old Roman Catholic 
Squire ; his daughter, who rides straight to hounds, but who begs her father to 
allow her to give up her position as heiress and become a Sister of Mercy; a 
literary man of infinitely varied sympathies, but with no convictions ; and 
Cecilia, a splendid pagan creature, who is unscrupulous in her self-indulgence. 
The story is principally concerned with a young widow, Madge Riversdale, 
and the title is explained by the difficult position in which she finds herself 
placed in connection with a question of marriage. 

« « • 

A real sensation has been produced by the editorial writer of a very yellow 
journal presuming to enter the field against Hamilton W. Mabie and other 
truly good critics. This ardent defender of yellow journalism feels constrained 
to condemn Mrs. Humphry Ward in these words : 

A girl opens Lady Rose's Daughter. It is written by a woman of serious 
and established literary reputation — the female William Dean Howells of 
England. Therefore she speaks with authority to the girl reader, who, if 



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426 The Columbian Reading Union. [June, 1903 ] 

puzzled or shocked by what she peruses, is apt to decide that the fault must.be 
with her own smaller and less experienced mind. Mrs. Ward introduces her to 
the very best English society, and introduces her well. The first half of the 
book is excellently written. The people have the air of reality. The girl 
reader meets, on terms of pleasant intimacy, dukes and lords and baronets and 
their ladies. The heroine. Mademoiselle Julie Le Breton, is flashed upon the 
girl as a wonderful creature who, besides being possessed of extraordinary social 
gifts, is perfectly at home as an intellectual equal with the Premier of England, 
wise old generals, and clear-headed, able men of the world in general. The 
girl reader never herself saw a young woman like that, so miraculously clever 
and fascinating and politically powerful, but she attributes this fact to her 
ignorance of life and feels humble accordingly. Mrs. Ward loves her heroine 
and admires her and caresses her. The girl reader is expected to share this 
admiration and liking and sympathy. 

Yet Mrs. Ward causes this heroine, in a crisis of her life, to act in a 
manner that proves her to be without chastity and destitute of womanly shame. 
And after the heroine has been so revealed, Mrs. Ward continues to admire 
and caress her, and apparently takes it for granted that the reader will be 
equally fond and admiring. And in the end the heroine is rewarded by being 
made a duchess. 

To the extent that the girl reader is betrayed into sympathy with a young 
woman capable of acting as Julie Le Breton is represented as acting, she is 
corrupted in mind, heart, and character. It is a dangerous book for idle and 
foolish wpmen as well as for girls. Its intention is not gross, of course ; but 
none the less, so far as its influence goes, it helps to weaken standards of con- 
duct, departures from which must be terribly punished if human society is not 

to rot. 

* • « 

The New York State Teachers' Association will meet July i, 2, 3, in the 
Auditorium of the Champlain Summer-School at Cliff Haven, N. Y. During 
this annual meeting many of the real leaders in educational advancement will 
be in attendance, and they will And a most congenial environment for their 
discussions. 

Members of Reading Circles should arrange their plans to be at Cliff 
Haven August 23-29 for the lectures by the Rev. Morgan M. Sheedy. Reports 
should be ready August 28, Reading Circle Day. The Sunday-School Con- 
ferences are assigned for August 17, 18, 19. 

M. C. M. 



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4f JU1.Y, # t903.l^ 





d RuBsia at the Vatican. 

J. T MUEPHY. 

giouB Soul. (Poem } u s, fine. 

he BattleiDake, (IlIuBtrated ) 

^ WILLIAM SETON, LL D. 

Th6 MTixieteeiith^Ceiitiiry -flpoBtle of the Little 
Italy in Chicago. (IlluBtrated.) 

K4TB GEBTRUDE PRINDIVILLE. 



^jf^^eiections for Ordinary Christian s, 

fjl^ 5 \j'j ALBER 

riy»^iBtoric Revival in Sienese Treasures. 



ALBERT HEYNAUr. 



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th^^^ Woods. (Poem.) d, a. faber. 

ijty ^nd Truth. p. w, F. 

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*^r MARY SABSPIKLD QILMOBE. 

Ludwig Van Beethoven . 

^ GEORQIWA PELL CITfiTIS. 

adiao Dialect Poet. 

THOMAS O^HAGAlff, M.A., PH D. 



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Feeding the Pigeons.— H. Bacon. 



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THE 



CATHOLIC WORLD. 



Vol. LXXVII. JULY, 1903. No. 460 




GERMANY AND RUSSIA AT THE VATICAN. 

BY J. T. MURPHY. 

JHE most remarkable jubilee tribute to Leo XIII. , 
in the year in which he has completed the 
twenty- fifth of his pontificate, is unquestionably 
the acknowledgment by the powers of the 
world that his is the greatest political influence 
on earth. 

Historians will deal with this acknowledgment. They will 
give the fact far greater accentuation than it receives in the 
turmoil and confusion of passing events of the present day. 
They will note even the attempt to minimize it, which is only 
an additional proof of its importance. 

The King of England, traditional friend of Italy, goes to 
pay his homage to the Pontiff. The German Emperor, Italy's 
ally, visits the Vatican with a pomp and circumstance that 
are markedly absent when he visits the Quirinal. The Italian 
government, through its official press, profusely protests that 
these tributes to the Pope cause it no chagrin, but its pique 
and coricern are allowed to leak out in an attempt to cast mild 
ridicule on the Kaiser's insistence on complete and detailed 
etiquette and lordly courtesy in his progress to the Papal 
palace. And while the press of the world is still commenting 
on the facts and significance of the bowing down of the Prot- 
estant King and the Protestant Emperor to the head of the 

The Missionary Society op St. Paul the Apostle in the State 

OF New York, 1903 
VOL. LXXVII.— 28 



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428 Germany AND Russia at the Vatican, [July, 

Catholic Church, the Czar of Russia and the President of the 
French Republic hasten to announce early visits to the Holy 
See. • 

At the same time comes from Vienna a denial of a Roman 
rumor to the effect that the Emperor of Austria would, during 
the present year, betake himself to the Italian capital. The 
Catholic Franz Josef pays his tribute by staying away. He 
persists in committing a breach of kingly politeness in not 
returning an Italian King's visit, but. his motive is frankly 
admitted ; he will not visit an Italian King enthroned in a Papal 
palace forcibly taken from the Pope. Carlos, Catholic King of 
Portugal, for a like reason abandons a project of visiting his 
relatives in Rome ; while the King of Servia, the Prince Regent 
of Sweden and Norway, and other potentates, who, not being 
Catholics, are not bound by a similar obligation, hasten to tell 
of coming visits to the Pope. 

Thirty-odd years ago the Cavours and the Bismarcks spoke 
of the Papacy as an institution of the past. Depretis thought 
it henceforth a negligible quantity in the world's diplomacy^ 

Francesco Crispi some twenty years ago openly discussed 
the question of offering to Leo XIII. one of the small islands 
off the Italian coast for his abode and his dominion What 
poor prophets and what short- visioned statesmen the irony of 
events has proved these famous men to be ! 

Leo XIII. to-day, at ninety-three, is the cynosure of 
monarchs and of governments, is the chief and almost natural 
object of visit of potentates who travel forth from their own 
domain, is the power whom the great nations in a moment of 
crisis vie with each other in conciliating, is the one man whose 
opinion the world at large loves to learn on all matters of uni- 
versal concern in whatever clime. A frail old man is the most 
gigantic figure among living beings. 

Of what transpired at the interview between King Edward 
and the Pope the following account is from the most reliable 
newspaper source in England : ** The conversation turned chiefly 
on the health of the King, the Pope and the English Roman 
Catholics, without, however, any political character whatever." 
Concerning the Kaiser's visit to the Holy Father the ordinarily 
reliable American newspapers published this information : 
"Daring the interview Emperor William brought up the subject 
of Biblical studies and historical works. The Pope remarked that* 



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1903.] Germany AND Russia at the Vatican. 429 

he had opened the Vatican Library to German scholars, because, 
he said, * Science is what unites Rome and Germany in brotherly 
relationship.' The conversation then turned to the work of Ger- 
man missionaries, who number about 1,200, in addition to 300 
nuns. Emperor William said these missionaries would always find 
the protection of their country wherever they might wander, 
and the Pontiff declared that the work of missiionaries influenced 
the prestige of Germany." 

Such nonsensical puerilities are turned out for foreign con- 
sumption by Italian correspondents eager, in the interests of the 
government that owns them body and soul, to minimize all 
great happenings at the Vatican, out of touch completely with 
Vatican . diplomacy and ridiculously ignorant ^ of the great 
diplomatic struggles of the other nations of Europe. And when 
the Czar and the President of the French Republic shall have 
paid their visits to the Pope these same correspondents, from 
their rendezvous in the Sala della Stampa at the telegraph de- 
partment of the General Post- Office in Rome, will glibly relate 
the conversations that occurred, in cable messages, filed — if one 
may judge the future by the past — before the interviews have 
taken place, and released for transmission the moment the 
telephone announces that the visits are over. The wonder is 
that the Amsrican editor, usually so discriminating in the 
judgment of news, creates a market for such offensive " copy " 
by publishing it. 

The King of England's visit was merely a notable incident 
in the policy which the British government has for some time 
past been pursuing of conciliating to itself the good will of the 
Sovereign Pontiff. The visit of Kaiser Wilhelm was admittedly 
an important event motived by important happenings. 

The imaginative correspondent was strangely wide of the 
mark in putting into the Emperor's mouth the declaration that 
the German missionaries " would always find the protection of 
their country wherever they might wander," though it is a 
declaration which his Majesty would probably like to be able 
to make. A non- Catholic organ of American publicity, which 
is uniformly judicious in its comments on passing events, elabor- 
ates the " protectorate " theory to explain the Kaiser's continual 
overtures toward the Vatican. 

Germany has many interesting Catholic problems of a 
domestic character: the return of the Jesuits, the school and 



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430 GERMANY AND RUSSIA AT THE VATICAN. [July, 

university questions, and others ; but it is for the nation's vast 
colonial schemes and for the prestige of Germany in the Orient 
Chat, the Kaiser chiefly invokes the Pope's aid. He is bent on 
supplanting France as the titular protector of the Catholic 
Church in the East. The government campaign against the 
feligious orders in France has caused strained relations with the 
Vatican. The occasion might consequently seem propitious to 
urge the Pontiff to break with a republic that has shown ksclf 
so ungrateful for ieo XIII. 's help in consolidating its power at 
home, and at least to ' refuse it the honor of posing longer as 
the official defender of the Catholic faith in the Orient. Here, 
then, is the Kaiser anxious to offer the services of Germany at 
a time when, a^ he said in one of his speeches in Palestine, 
" the German Empire and the German name have now acquired 
throughout the Empire of the Osmanli a higher reputation than 
ever before." The Holy Father, besides, has reminded France 
of the incalculable boon the protectorate privilege has been to 
the Republic in extending '' the name, the language, and the 
prestige of France throughout the world." 

There is* probably a part of the truth in this theory of 
the German Protestant potentate seeking to assume a protector- 
ate over Catholic interests. But when the suggestion is made 
that it is rivalry with France that is the motive in the case, the 
element of error probably enters. It is not France any longer 
but Russia that is Germany's great competitor in expansion 
schemes in the Orient, and it is not so much with France as 
with Russia that Germany has now to cross diplomatic swords 
for the acquisition of the Pope's friendship and assistance. 

Russia has recently put herself on record as disclaiming in 
the most formal way any exclusive commercial designs on China. 
The demands attributed to her, it has been remarked, were such 
as to excite opposition precisely in those quarters which one 
would suppose Russian diplomacy has particular interest to 
conciliate. Granted the maintenance of the open door and the 
freedom of the Treaty Ports, no one is likely to question the 
ultimate domination of Russia in the province of Manchuria, if 
only because, with the Trans-Siberian railway practically com- 
pleted, no one is in a position to contest it. Other countries 
have committed far more objectionable land-grabbing offences, 
and it may be noted as something of a palliation of Russia's 
act that she has shown herself a great and capable colonizer, 



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1903] Germany AND Russia at the Vatican, 431 

especially in the Far East, where the bureaucratic control of St. 
Petersburg is least able to make itself felt and the existing 
Chinese government is not such as to call for much sympathy 
from any Christian nation. Without a great regeneration of the 
yellow races, nothing short of a universal alliance of the other 
European powers could jeopardize Russia's occupation. And 
even this experiment, which is practically certain never to be 
tried in such an issue, might fail. Manchuria, it may be said 
without any undue efforts at prophecy, is Russia's for good. 
The flurry of excitement at Washington was caused by a sur- 
mise that the alleged Russian claims on China were accurate, 
and meant the violation of the open door and the abolition of 
the freedom of the Treaty Ports. 

The formal concurrence of the Vatican in Russia's occupa- 
tion of Manchuria would be of small moment, and, besides, 
could certainly not be obtained. But what would be almost 
priceless for colonizing and civilizing purposes would be the 
co-operation of the Catholic missionaries. France's succeeding 
infidel governments, which have long made it a point to vie 
with each other in harrying the Catholic clergy at home, have 
invariably meted out the most flattering treatment to the Catho- 
lic missionaries in China, and Bishop Favier in Peking has 
always been allowed by the government of his native country 
to be a bigger man than the French minister accfedited to the 
Chinese court. 

The honors almost ostentatiously showered on Catholic 
bishops and priests by the Russian officials during the last few 
months, and which have formed the subject of wondering com- 
ment even in the press of the United States, were, without 
question, part of a conciliatory tribute to the venerable occu- 
pant of the chair of Peter. Plans that are afoot for the estab- 
lishment of a new Catholic seminary near Odessa have met 
with the hearty approval of the governor- general of the province. 
The surmise has been put forth that the authorities in St 
Petersburg look eagerly for the day when the young levites of 
this seminary will be ready for the missibnary field, to replace 
the priests of the French Missions £trang^res in Manchuria. 
The same authorities can harbor no doubt that the supervision 
and protection of Catholic interests in Manchuria would then 
promptly be transferred from France to Russia, and the ex- 
tremely desirable result obtained of the Vatican recognizing 



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432 Germany AND Russia at the Vatican. [July, 

Russia as a species of ally in a foreign field, a recognition 
from which France has for years drawn for herself so much 
moral and material advantage and a recognition for which 
Germany has been striving for the best part of a decade. 

Russia's real or alleged designs on Persia, with the immedi- 
ate prospect of establishing a naval base on the Persian Gulf 
or Indian Ocean, have also been a matter of the deepest con- 
cern to the chancelleries of Europe. Here again France is 
already established, and here also she has offered all sorts of 
inducements to her Catholic missionaries to put forth their 
Christianizing zeal. There is little doubt that Russia would be 
very willing to take a leaf from her ally's note-book of diplo- 
matic wisdom. That Russia's domination will in time extend 
at least over northern Persia is believed by many to be inevita- 
ble, but for the moment it is probable that other competing 
nations, and particularly England, have shown undue alarm on 
the subject. It has been pointed out that Teheran is almost as 
near to Liverpool, as far as cost and facility of transport go, 
as it is to Moscow or the other commercial centres of Russia. 
Russia's recent business development in Persia has been re- 
markable, but it is said that all advantages gained in this 
respect over other European rivals have been acquired through 
a system of premiums and state encouragement of trade. 
England, of course, has it in her power to adopt measures 
that, at least in some degree, will counteract the Russian sys- 
tem of direct state assistance to trade. There is much talk of 
the British government encouraging railway building in southern 
Persia and even co-operating with Germany in the construction 
of the Euphrates Valley Railway, the main purpose of which is 
to restore to Mesopotamia the extraordinary fertility which it 
once possessed. Lord Lansdowne, the British Minister for 
Foreign Affairs, has recently gone to the extreme of formu- 
lating a species of Monroe Doctrine with reference to the 
Persian Gulf, announcing in solemn manner that Great Britain 
would regard the establishment by any other European power 
of a naval station on that gulf as an unfriendly act that would 
be resisted by all means in her power. 

Under all the circumstances there seems no likelihood of 
Russia risking war for the development of her commercial or 
military status in Persia ; but again, in the eventuality of war 
talk by other susceptible nations of Europe, it is certain that 



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1903.] Germany and Russia at the Vatican. 433 

Russia, instead of being persistently forced to withdraw when 
unprepared to force her claims, would be glad to find a tri- 
bunal where her claims and designs might be impartially de- 
cided upon. • Such a tribunal the Czar and his counsellors 
hoped to create when the former convoked the no^ memorable 
Peace Conference at the Hague. But although the tribunal 
established by the conference is undoubtedly an excellent court 
for the sifting of petty international disputes in money and 
boundary matters, it is from its very complexion wholly inade- 
quate for the adjudication of charges of unjust aggrandizement 
that may be brought against a nation. 

The Pope alone stands forth as an adequate judge and 
arbitrator of world disputes, the sole potentate whose interest 
!s equally intense in all lands and whose judgments can be 
dictated by justice alone. When Russia's zealous explaining 
away of situations that offend the susceptibilities of other 
countries shall have failed to satisfy those to whom it is ad- 
dressed, as may be the case at any hour under present cir- 
cumstances, there is reason to believe that she will seek to refer 
the contentions to the Pope. ' This much is clearly inferred 
from repeated declarations published in a French periodical 
which is known to have official inspiration from St. Petersburg. 
No courtesy or flattery, of course, could beforehand influence 
any decision that the Pope might have to render between 
nations, but it is an ordinary weakness on the. part of nations, 
as of individuals, to desire to stand well with those who may 
have occasion to render momentous decisions. 

Already Russia has maintained for years a legation in 
Rome specially accredited to the Pope, but of late this legation 
has assumed a new importance by the development of its offi- 
cial and social functions in a way to call attention to its in- 
creased prestige. A similar state of affairs, remarkably enough, 
is to be noted at the Prussian legation to the Pope. There is 
distinct emulation between these two legations in the Eternal 
City, and the motive in one case is probably the motive in the 
other. Russia and Germany are at last resort the great factors 
in the determining of the Balkan question as a whole, and in 
this question the Pope's influence is all-important and would 
be most acceptable to either side. The Balkan question is 
believed likely to develop into a struggle between Pan-Slavic 
and Pan- Germanic ambitions. The Czar is supposed to aim at 



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'a h\IhI\Iv Umh lm«t lUPl milt Ipit hpi ihPiup, 
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hd liiMtiilMi, lil^lii.!^ ili>i>)ii.) lusi^ \\\i\\\ thin. 



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434 Germany and Russia at the Vatican, [July, 

the acquisition of Constantinople and domination of the Levant, 
while it is said that the Kaiser dreams of seeing in his own 
day the spread of his empire in a great belt across Europe 
from the Hague to Salonica, Austria as well as Holland being 
gathered into the great consolidation. 

British prestige has declined in Turkey, and Great Britain 
certainly would not now fire a shot to keep Russia out of 
Constantinople. German influence has replaced that of Eng- 
land, and the Sultan looks up to the Kaiser as his best friend 
and as the coming arbiter of events. The ' game i^ being bit- 
terly contested, but it is a slow game for the moment, each 
side seemingly eager to forecast the other's moves and to learn 
who, of the lookers-on or possible participators, is to be friend 
or foe. And in it all, at intervals, appears the gigantic power 
of the Catholic Church, and the mighty influence of Leo XHI. 

The Sultan sends troops and an aide-de-camp as personal 
representative to the Catholic processions held in the neighbor- 
hood of the Catholic churches of Constantinople, processions 
which, by a strange irony of events, would be impossible to- 
day in Paris or Marseilles. And the Sultan makes every pos- 
sible concession to the French priests of the Assumption, to 
the French nuns who educate the Christian and Moslem young, 
and to the delegate extraordinary whom the Pope sends at in- 
tervals to Constantinople to deal with the Catholic situation. 
All this placatQry attitude of the Turk towards the Pope may 
be only in accordance with advice from Berlin, but it is highly 
significant. The Kaiser freely admits that the near East is a 
field where the influence of the Holy Father is of the first 
magnitude. It was as much in the endeavor to acquire for 
himself in Turkey in Asia the prerogative which France en- 
joyed as recognized, protector of Catholic interests that the 
Emperor William sent Cardinal Kopp, Archbishop of Breslau, 
on a memorable mission five years ago to Rome, as it was to 
secure a mandate from the Pope for the Chinese mission field, 
with something that would serve as a pretext to cover Ger- 
many's future action in the Shantung province. 

Mighty indeed must be the brain that can unravel all the 
meshes of these diplomatic webs in which nations separately 
and as combinations strive to entangle for their own purposes 
the head of the Catholic Church. Fortunately Leo XHI. has 
long ago let it be understood that only lucid dealings and 



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1903.] 



The Religious Soul, 



435 



straightforward principles will find favor in his eyes, so that 
diplomatic errors by the Vatican are practically eliminated from 
the field of possibilities. 

The menace of the hour to the world's peace is believed in 
Europe to lie in the Titanic contentions between the Russian 
and the German Empires. In the storm and stress of the dis- 
pute, however, there is one tower of strength, one pillar of 
light, one angel of peace, a man nearly one hundred years old. 
But that man is Leo XIII., the Vicar of Christ on earth. 




THE RELIGIOUS SOUL 



BY M. S. PINE. 




IHYSELF hast raised me to this eminence 
Seated upon Thy fair right hand, a spouse,- 
As if a shepherdess 'neath rural boughs 
'A mighty king had met and led her thence, 
A monument of his benevolence. 

To his own palace, sealed love's holy vows. 
Robed her in ermine, diademed her brows. 
And looked but for her love's sweet frankincense. 



Poor little one ! how doth she languish, pine 

For ampler heart- space, that its passionate deeps 
Might fill, as from an ocean fathomless. 
Her lover's meed with love's delicious wine! 
Mine own Beloved ! my soul within me weeps 
For broader, higher, deeper love than this. 



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436 



The rattlesnake. 



[July, 



THE RATTLESNAKE. 



BY WILLIAM SETON. LL.D. 




rE believe that no creature on earth is so loath- 
some as the snake. It glides so noiselessly out 
of sight in the grass or the bushes ; it lies so 
quietly in hiding until its prey comes near 
enough for it to strike ; and «ven the innocent 
Black snake — one of the commonest of our North American 
snakes — is destroyed by the foolish farmer, who does not know 
how useful it is in killing rats and mice and moles. 

But if the black snake, which is a constrictor, has no venom, 
America may boast of one species of venomous snake which is 
found in no other part of the globe, namely, the Crotalus, or 
rattlesnake. 

And we have often thought how much more terrifying this 
reptile would be if it had legs as all snakes once had, and if it 
could run after us instead oT being awkwardly pushed along 
the ground by a movement of its ribs. Here let us observe 
that in the snake family the limbs have entirely disappeared 
except in the Boas, and in them we discover only the rudi- 
ments of the hind limbs. And Cope, in Primary Factors of 
Organic Evolution^ page 218, tells us that this disappearance 
of the limbs is a case of degeneracy, for he has traced the 
snakes back to reptiles of the Permian epoch, whose limbs were 
well developed. We do not, of course, know how the limbs of 
all snakes except the boas have come to disappear, nor by 
what steps the hind limbs of the boas have been degraded to 
their present useless condition. But undoubtedly the rudiments 
of hind limbs in the boas point to a former condition of things; 
and Darwin, in chapter xiv. of The Origin of Species^ says : ** It 
appears probable that disuse has been the main agent in ren- 
dering organs rudimentary." 

And in The Cambridge Natural History (by Hans Gadow)» 
pp. 496-7, we read : ** Burrowing and living in sand arc often 
correlated with a partial or complete reduction or loss of the 
limbs. . . . This loss of limbs is as a rule correlated with 



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I903.J 



THE Rattlesnake. 



437 



an elongation of the trunk. ... In most cases of reduction 
the fore limbs disappear before . . . the hind limbs." But 
to come back to the rattlesnake, let us say that it belongs to 
the family known as Pit-vipers, which are distinguished by a 




Texas Rattlesnake — Crotalus Atrox. 

pit between the nose and the eye. But it differs from the other 
pit vipers (Copperheads and Moccasins) by an organ which is 
unique and possessed by no other snake, namely, a rattle at the 
end of its tail. This highly specialized instrument is composed 
of a number of horny coverings on buttons, which fit into each 
other, and it is a development of the original cone-shaped tail- 
cap which we find at the end of every snake's tail. Whenever 
the rattlesnake moults or sheds its skin, the youngest horny 
covering is loosened and would drop off with the rest of the 
skin, if it were not held in place by a newly developed but- 
ton ; and by this process of ona button holding in place an- 
other button, there is formed a nun\ber of* loosely jointed 
buttons, which, when the snake shakes its tail, sound not unlike 
a rattle. 

The rattlesnake, of which there are ten species, ranges from 
British Columbia to the Argentine Republic, South America. 
But it is not found in the West Indies. Naturalists do not 



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438 The Rattlesnake. [July, 

know the object of the pit or hole betweea the eye and the 
nose in the pit-vipers, and Professor Leydig believed that it 
might be the organ of a sixth sense. And might not this sixth 
sense be a sense of direction ? A very needful sense to this 
low- lying, crawling reptile, for it would tell it in what direc- 
tion its home was. The poison apparatus of the rattlesnake is 
an interesting study. In the forepart of the upper jaw are two 
perforated fangs, which curve inward. These sharp, curved 
poison fangs are said to be perforated. But this expression is 
misleading, for the microscope shows that the so called perfora- 
tion is merely a groove whose anterior walls have closed over 
it. Here we quote from Professor Leonhard Stejncger's excel- 
lent work. The Poisonous Snakes of North America, page 368: 
** This structure of the fang may be easily understood by com- 
paring it to a leaf curling up in drying, the edges meeting and 
overlapping in the middle^ leaving an upper and a lower open- 
ing. By making sections of growing and full-grown fangs of 
the same individual, the evolution of the grooved fang into the 
' perforated I' fang is easily traced, and the inexactness of the 
latter term clearly demonstrated." On each side of the upper 
jaw may be counted eight to ten reserve fangs lying one behind 
the other and growing smaller and smaller as they recede 
toward the far end of the jaw, and they are meant to replace 
the functional fangs should these be torn out. But it requires 
several weeks for the next fangs to be firm enough in their 
place to be of any real use to the snake. And just as the 
hollow poison tooth is developed from the canal- ishaped tooth 
and the canal-shaped tooth is developed from the solid tooth, 
so by a specialization of the yellow portion of the ordinary 
saliva gland is finally developed the two poison glands, which 
lie a little below and back of the eyes. 

It is interesting to know that the rattlesnake cannot without 
great difficulty be forced to give out any poison against its 
will, for the poison is made to flow by a contraction of the 
anterior temporal muscles whjch press upon the poison glands, 
and the reptile knows ^00 well the value of its venom to allow 
any of it to be wasted, even when we press very hard upon 
these glands. But when the snake is dead or chloroformed we 
may easily cause the poison to flow through the fangs. Here 
let us observe that the poison apparatus may be viewed as an 
hypodermic syringe. But naturalists are not agreed in their 



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1903] 



The Rattlesnake. 



439 




Diamond Rattlesnake. — Crotalus Adamanteus. 
(Front a cast in the U. S. National Museum.) 

description of just bow the syringe works. Some tell us that 
when the snake is coiled and sounding its rattle and preparing 
to strike, it has its mouth wide open. Others say that the 
jaws are not opened until the very moment the snake strikes, 
and then the deadly machine suddenly flies apart at an angle 
of almost 180 degrees. Be this as it. may, to our eye — and we 
speak from a little experience — a rattlesnake which is making 
ready to spring is an exceedingly graceful object.. Look at its 
head raised about four inches above the body and bent slightly 
backward so as to bring the points of the fangs in a proper 
position for the fatal thrust ; see the long, black tongue flash- 
ing in and out; look at the tail elevated high above the centre 
of the coil and vibrating with inconceivable rapidity. Is it any 
wonder that some naturalists believe that birds may become 
hypnotized at the sight of this wonderful reptile ? 

Then when the favorable moment has come the snake darts 
forward — but never more than one half its length — and instantly 
the lower jaw closes upon the bitten animal and the venom, 
which is squeezed out of the poison glands, is driven deep in- 
to the flesh. But just here an accident may occur and all may 
not go well with the snake, for it has to disentangle itself from 



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440 THE Rattlesnake, [July. 

its victim, and it sometimes happens that the teeth of the 
loiver jaw are so caught in the victim's skin that the snake 
cannot at once retreat. When this occurs the reptile tries to 
free itself by violently shaking its head. But if the animal 
which is bitten is a strong animal it may drag the snake after 
it until the fangs are torn out. Here let us observe that if the 
snake's glands are well filled with venom when it strikes, and 
if the reptile misses its object, which sometimes happens, the 
venom may be thrown with such force as to fly six feet away. 
Dr. S. Weir Mitchell in the Century Magazine for August, 
1889, says: "The nervous mechanism which controls the act 
of striking seems to be in the spinal cord, for if we cut off the 
snake's head and then pinch its tail, the stump of the neck 
returns and with some accuracy hits the hand of the experi- 
menter, if he has the nerve to hold it" And Professor Brewer, 
of Yale, when in California many years ago, relates that hav- 
ing killed a rattlesnake by cutting off its head, he was about 
to measure its length, when, " Quick as an electric shock that 
headless snake brought the bloody stump over and struck a hard 
blow upon the back of my hand. I knew that his head was off 
and that he could not poison me, but that quick and hard blow 
of the rattler made my hair stand on end." ♦ 

In 1842 rattlesnakes were common in many parts of the 
State of New York. De Kay {ZooL N, K. iii. p. 57) says: 
"They abound along the shores of Lakes Champlain and 
George. ... In Warren County two men in three days 
killed 1,104 rattlesnakes on the east side of Tongue Mountain, 
in the town of Bolton. . . . They were killed for their oil 
or grease, which is said to be very valuable." And as late as 
1854 Professor Baird tells us, in his Serpents of New York: 
"... It seems to be most abundant on the shores of 
Lake George and Lake Champlain. . . . It is a little re- 
markable that the rattlesnake does not occur in the Adirondack 
regions of New York. . . ." 

We should not call the rattlesnake an aggressive reptile, 
and Professor Stejneger, in his work already mentioned, says, 
p. 432: "The late General Kirby Smith once told me of an 
incident which' illustrates the amount of provocation a rattle- 
snake will pass unnoticed under certain circumstances. General 
Smith's home in Tennessee was located on a high plateau, and 

♦ Quoted by Leonhard Stejneger in The Poisonous Snakes of North America. 



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I903.] 



The Rattlesnake. 



441 



a narrow path led from the house to the small railway station in 
the valley below. One day a party of ladies went down the 
path in Indian file, the general in the lead, and the rear being 
brought up by a barefooted lad carrying a valise. Suddenly 
the latter shouted A rattlesnake was lying coiled in the path, 
and he had just discovered it in stepping over it without touch- 



^& 




POISON ▲PPAB4TUS OP BATTLBSNAKB; VKNOM OLAND AKD MU8CLBI. 

ing it. By the merest chance they had all avoided stepping upon 
it, though it seemed almost impossible that the ladies' dresses 
should not have touched it. General Smith said he felt like 
sparing the snake's life." It is believed by persons who have not 
carefully studied the habits of the rattlesnake, that it dwells in 
the holes of the prairie dog through friendship for this rodent. 
Well, it does indeed abound around the homes of the prairie 
dogs during the season when the prairie dogs are breeding; 
but there is no doubt that the rattlers feed upon the young 
offspring of the prairie dogs, who have so many little ones that 
a few are not missed. 

Why does the rattlesnake rattle ? is a question to which 
naturalists do not all give the same answer. St. George Mivart 
maintained that the rattle must be a disadvantage to the snake 
since it must warn its prey to keep away, and that it must 
also let an enemy know the very spot where it is concealed 
and thus lead to its more easy destruction. Dr. Mivart was 
not aware of the fact that the snake does not sound its rattle 
when a rat or a young rabbit is coming towards it. It rattles 
only when there is danger; when an enemy is approaching. 
But then it does rattle — you might think an alarm clock was 
ringing in the bushes, and as a very general rule the enemy 



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442 THE Rattlesnake. [July, 

does not care to come any nearer. We admit, however, that 
the rattle has been a disadvantage to the snake in the more 
thickly inhabited parts of the country ; for man being so much 
more intelligent than the lower animals, Las known how to 
attack this reptile with comparatively little danger. But we 
should bear in mind that the rattle was developed thousands of 
years before man appeared on the scene. Here we again quote 
Leonhard Stejneger in The Poisonous Snakes of North America y 
p. 389 : " The history of evolution is full of similar examples of 
animals having acquired an advantageous character which, when 
new animals appeared, was turned against the owner because it 
could not be undone or modified to suit the new conditions, 
thus leading directly ito its extermination." 

Darwin also says in the Origin of Species, chap. vi. : "It 
is admitted that the rattlesnake has a poison fang for its own 
defence and for the destruction of its prey ; but some authors 
suppose that at the same time it is furnished with a rattle for 
its own injury, namely, to warn its prey. I would almost as 
soon believe that the cat curls the end of its tail when pre- 
paring to spring, in order to warn the doomed mouse. It is a 
much more probable view that the rattlesnake uses its rattle 
. . . in order to alarm the many birds and beasts which 
are known to attack even the most venomous species. . . . 
Natural selection will never produce in a being any structure 
more injurious than beneficial to that being, for natural selec- 
tion acts solely by and for the good of each." The distinguished 
geologist, Professor Shaler, of Harvard University, has receded 
from the position he once held, namely, that the rattlesnake's 
rattle was not to be explained on the doctrine of natural 
selection, inasmuch as it could in no way be an advantage to 
the snake. He now believes that the object of the rattle — so 
like the sound of a locust and a grasshopper — is to decoy 
insect-eating birds within range, of the snake. Other naturalists 
believe that the true function of the rattle is to call the sexes 
together, and the experience of Professor Samuel Aughey would 
seem to render this view not improbable.* But although the 
various explanations may all be partly true, the rattle must 
certainly be beneficial to the snake, as — by warning an enemy 
not to come near — it prevents an unnecessary waste of venom, 
and to-day the majority of naturalists look upon it as a most ef- 

* American Naturalist, vii. 1873. 



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1903.] The Rattlesnake. 443 

fective means of self-protection. The snake does not rattle until 
it believes an enemy is coming towards it ; it is a warning 
sound which says : " Beware ! I am here." 

In regard to rattlesnake venom, organic chemistry has of 
late years thrown a good deal of light upon it Prince Lucien 
Bonaparte was the first to analyze the poison of vipers, and he 
concluded that it was albuminoid in its nature. This was in 
1843. Since then Dr. S. Weir Mitchell's experiments on the 
poison of the rattlesnake (he kept one hundred of them alive in 
his laboratory) have confirmed Prince Bonaparte's analysis. And 
it is interesting to note that Dr. S. Weir Mitchell found that 
the poisonous saliva does not lose its toxic qualities even when 
boiled. When it first drops from the reptile's mouth it is 
a somewhat yellowish, sticky fluid. But if it be excluded from 
the air it gets to look like gum or varnish, and it retains its 
dangerous properties for as much as twenty-two years. The 
best way to obtain the venom from a live rattlesnake is to 
catch the reptile by the neck with a pair of tongs, then force a 
saucer between its jaws, and in its vicious bites on the saucer 
a good quantity of the deadly fluid is ejected. 

In treating of the symptoms of rattlesnake poison Charles 
J. Martin says : ♦ " The painful wound is speedily discolored 
and swollen. Constitutional symptoms appear as a rule in less 
than fifteen, minutes: prostration, staggering, cold sweats, 
vomiting, feeble and quick pulse, dilatation of the pupil, and 
slight mental disturbance. In this state the patient may die in 
about twelve hours." 

For the very latest investigations on the venom of the 
rattlesnake we refer the reader to the volume entitled Researches 
upon the Venoms of Poisonous Snakes, published by the Smith- 
sonian Institution, 1886. In this volume Dr. S. Weir Mitchell 
and Dr. E. T. Reichert tell us that death from rattlesnake 
poison is due to paralysis of the respiratory centres. And in 
seeking for an antidote, a physiological antagonist to this poison, 
these investigators believed that alcohol might prove useful. 
But it should be borne in mind that this remedy — which has 
no direct action on the venom — merely works as a stimulant 
and must never be adopted in excess ; too much alcohol de- 
presses the vital functions in place of stimulating them, and 
intoxication actually helps the poison. 



* Clifford AUbutt's System of Medicine, vol. ii. p. 809. 
VOL. LXXVII. — 29 



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444 THE RATTLESNAKE. [July, 

The very latest specific antidote, one which has been suc- 
cessful in a gr^at many cases not only of rattlesnake poison 
but also of Cobra poison, is itself a terrible poison, namely, 
strychnine. Where strychnine has been administered in heroic 
doses (20 to 25 minims of liq. strychniae) ♦ very many lives have 
been saved. Here the poison of the snake and the poison of 
the drug are in deadly war one against the other, and unless 
enough strychnine be injected to rouse the vaso motor nerve 
centres, the venom of the reptile — which is attacking the same 
nerve centres to paralyze them — will conquer. The discovery of 
strychnine as an almost certain antidote to all snake poison is 
due to Dr. A. Mueller, of Victoria, Australia. But he warns us 
that this most valuable remedy may fail unless it be subcutane- 
ously injected within twenty-four hours after the bite. We 
conclude by saying that it is not unreasonable to believe that by 
continued inoculation of exceedingly small doses of modified 
snake poison, a man may at length ' be made proof against even 
otherwise fatal quantities of it. But time and further experi- 
ments alone will show whether this result (very useful indeed 
to persons living in the tropics) can be accomplished. And now 
as a very last word let us say that we know of no more inter- 
esting work on the subject of American snakes than the work 
entitled The Poisonous Snakes of North America^ by Professor 
Leonhard Stejneger, Curator United States National Museum. 

• I grain to every 100 minims. 




The Rattle. 



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1903] /pT'^ Century Apostle of the Little Ones. 445 




THE NINETEENTH CENTURY APOSTLE OF THE LITTLE 

ONES. 

BY E. UHLRICH. 

•HEN one man in his lifetime has cared for, 
trained, and sent out into the world, as useful 
and law-abiding citizens, ten million children, 
then the attention of people may well be drawn 
to him again and again, for it is the lives of 
such men that keep the heart of the world from despair. 

He who was to have such wonderful sympathy and even 
more wonderful influence on neglected and unfortunate child- 
hood and youth, began his life as a poor, hardworking boy, 
even as St. Vincent de Paul did in his day. Giovanni Bosco 
was his name, and he was the son of humble peasants and 
herded his father's sheep until he was fifteen years old. Then 
a kindly priest discovered the boy's unusual gifts of mind and 
heart, and taught him the elements of Latin and Greek. After 
that Giovanni was sent to the seminary at Chieri, where he 
was ordained to the priesthood in 1841. Full of zeal to fit 
himself for his work as a shepherd of souls, he went to Turin 
and entered an institute for the training of priests in practical 
work. 

It is notable that his first experience was in visiting prisons. 
Here his heart and mind were touched by the spectacle of the 
many youthful criminals he met, and he was constantly thihk- 
ing how to reclaim them and, even more important, how to 
prevent them from entering upon criminal ways at all. 

It was on the 8th of December, in 1841, that Don Bosco 
found, in a most humble occurrence, the occasion which showed 
him the mission for which God had destined him. It wa^, as 
so often happens, but a simple thing; but, when we are. open 
to the guidance of the Divine Will, the simplest things may 
have the greatest import. There was no boy to serve his 
Mass, and a street-boy, who happened to look into the sacristy, 
was asked by the sexton to do so. 

" I do not know how," said the boy. 



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446 19TH Century Apostle OF THE Little Ones. [July, 

"Never mind," said the sexton ; ** I '11 show you what to do." 

"But I never was at Mass before." 

" Stupid creature ! " said the sexton, angry now, " what are 
you doing here then ? " And he boxed the boy's ears so hard 
that the little fellow went off crying. At this Don Bosco 
turned around and reproved the astonished sexton for his 
crossness* 

" But what difference does that make to your reverence ? " 

"It makes a great deal of difference to me, for that boy is 
my friend. Call him back at once; I must talk to him." 

The sexton did so and the poor boy came back; Don 
Bosco asked him kindly if he had never heard Mass before, 
and he said " No." 

" Then," said Don Bosco, " stay for this Mass which I am 
going to celebrate, and when it is over I shall talk to you a 
little while, if you will wait." 

The boy, whose heart had been won by Don Bosco's kindly 
manner, gladly agreed to stay. 

After Mass, Don Bosco said to him: "What is your name, 
my little friend ? " 

"Bartolomeo Garelli." 

" Where are you from ? " 

" Asti." 

" Is your father still living ? " 

"No, he is dead." 

" And your mother ? " 

"She is dead too." 

" How old are you ? " 

" I am fifteen years old." 

" Can you read and write ? " 

" I don't know anything at all." 

" Did you make your first Communion ? " 

"No, not yet." 

" Did you ever go to confession ? " 

"I did when I was very little." 

" Why don't you go to Sunday-school ? " 

" I am ashamed because the other boys are all younger 
than I am and know so much more, and I always have such 
old clothes." 

" If I were to teach you all by yourself, would you like to 
come ? " 



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1903.] 19TH Century Apostle of the Little Ones, 447 

" Oh I would be very glad to come, if no one would box 
my ears for coming." 

"You need not be afraid of any one. You are my friend 
now ; no one else will have anything to say to you. When 
shall we begin ? " 

"Whenever it pleases you, father." 

"Very well, we will begin at once." 

Don Bosco found that the boy did not even know how t6 
make the sign of the cross. Yet this poor, untaught child of 
the street became the corner-stone, so to say, of Don Bosco's 
life-work. In a little while Bartolomeo brought friends of his 
along, and they in turn brought their friends. ^By the 25th of 
March, in 1842, 'there, were thirty members of Don Bosco's 
class. Some of them were apprentices to the different trades, 
some were street vagabonds, and some of them grown men. 
The next year there were three hundred of them. Don Bosco 
had to find a place of meeting larger than his little sacristy; 
but, alas ! no sooner was he well established in his new quarters 
than notice was given him to move. 

People insisted that they did not want him and his noisy, 
disreputable vagabonds in their own respectable neighborhood. 
When, at last, there seemed no hope of finding a suitable 
meeting place in the city for his boys he did not despair. For 
two months, each Sunday he led them out into the suburbs of 
Turin, said Mass for them in some church, then taught them 
under the open sky. Afterwards he let them play games and 
amuse themselves, and in the evening the whole crowd went 
back into the city, singing hymns as they went. 

In 1844, with the help of some kindly priests, Don Bosco 
opened the first night schools, teaching reading, writing, and 
arithmetic. These schools were soon imitated all over Italy. 

Don Bosco, however, continued to meet with trials and 
tribulations in his work, as seems true in every good cause. 
His plans were so novel and so large that he was even ac- 
cused of being crazy. A crazy man, however, ought to be 
out of harm's way, and so it was quietly arranged that Don 
Bosco should be taken to an insane asylum. Two prominent 
gentlemen of Turin were to manage his transfer to the asylum. 
They hired a closed carriage and drove to Don Bosco's house. 
He received them very kindly, and soon was talking to them 
enthusiastically about the oratorium and the great church he 



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448 i^TH Century Apostle of the Little Ones. [July, 

wanted ta build, the schools and the workshops which would 
be grouped around this centre. He spoke so* glowingly that 
one could have thought he saw the whole thing before his 
eyes. The gentlemen looked at each other knowingly, as if to 
say: "It is plain that he is out of his mind." 

"A little fresh air will be good for you, Don Bosco," one 
of them ventured. "We have a carriage outside. You might 
drive a little way with us." 

Don Bosco smiled and went out with the two gentlemen. 
They stepped back in order to let him enter first, but he 
begged them to precede him. They did so and then Don 
Bosco hastily shut the carriage door and called out to the 
driver, "Ready." 

The driver had been instructed to drive to the asylum as 
fast as the horses could go, and not to mind any possible pro- 
tests or resistance. So he started off at a gallop at Don Bos- 
co's word. 

When the carriage arrived at the asylum, the gentlemen 
inside were in such a rage that the superintendent ordered 
them put into separate cells at once, and, if necessary, in 
straitjackets. Luckily for them, the chaplain of the asylum 
knew them, and they were let go about their business. How- 
ever, they at least were convinced that Don Bosco was saner 
than some people thought him, and did not wish to be the 
agents of any more forced cures for him. 

Don Bosco's trials now took another form. The police of 
Turin began to take note of his boys and to suspect in them 
potential socialists. Indeed, the very existence of the work 
was threatened, when King Charles Albert, then King of Sar- 
dinia, look personal action in behalf of "Don Bosco's young 
rogues," as he put it, and even sent sixty dollars to help the 
work along. With that the worst storms were over. Don 
Bosco organized his Oratorium of St. Francis of Sales, as he 
called his meeting place, for he had a special devotion to St. 
Francis. He chose the name " Oratorium " because the earliest 
meetings were in the chapel in which he met that first, pitifully 
ignorant street boy. 

In the spring of 1846, however, he was homeless once 
more — put out again for the sake of his boys. Thereupon he 
leased a piece of enclosed land outside of the city. Here, in 
the open air, under the free sky, the Sunday meetings were 



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1903.] 19TH Century Apostle of the Little Ones. 449 

again held undisturbed. Early in the morning Don Bosco was 
there, seated on a grassy mound and hearing confessions. 
Some of the boys were kneeling near by, waiting their turn, 
others were saying their prayers, and still others, farther away, 
were quietly playing. At nine o'clock Don Bosco called his 
boys together. He had no bell, so one of the boys beat on 
an ancient drum as a signal. Then he separated them into 
little divisions, and sent each division into a particular church 
to hear Mass. Later they returned, and there was Sunday- 
school, games, and singling. 

After awhile a little shed near by was rented and arranged 
for a chapel. In the fall of 1846 he added a few rooms, and 
thus he began his first school. To be sure the boys' dormi- 
tory was nothing but a hayloft pressed into service, while the 
housekeeper was Don Bosco's sturdy peasant mother, who had 
come to the city to help on the work of her beloved son. 

In 1 85 1 he was able to build a church dedicated to St. 
Francis de Sales, and two new houses. 

Now there is a magnificent group of buildings on this same 
land. The church is in the centre; two imposing wings are 
the "Oratorium," of which Don Bosco had dreamed and talked 
so enthusiastically that once people even thought him crazy. 
The dream has more than come true. There is a little town 
in itself here. All about are buildings representing various 
kinds of trades' and activity. There is a great printing estab- 
lishment with ten presses, a book bindery, a large locksmith 
shop, a carpentering shop, a shoe factory, and a tailoring estab- 
lishment. There are, moreover, libraries, study-rooms, class- 
rooms, dormitories, gardens, and playgrounds. Over one thou- 
sand people live here and follow their various employments. 

Don Bosco is dead; he died on January 31, 1888. But 
his work went on under Don Michelle Rua, who was himself 
an orphan, raised and trained by Don Bosco. Here, in the 
mother house, are some thirty Salesian priests, as the mem- 
bers of the congregation founded by Don Bosco, at the sug- 
gestion of Minister Ratazzi, are called ; nearly two hundred 
Salesian brothers, who are the master workmen, and four hun- 
dred students. In addition to the resident pupils that are 
being trained and cared for^ about five hundred boys and ap- 
prentices spend their Sundays and recreation hours at the in- 
stitution, something in the way in which children in this coun- 



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450 19TH Century APOSTLE of the Little Ones. [July, 

try go to the Settlements that have been established here and 
there in the large cities. 

More than one hundred and fifty of these institutions were 
founded by Don Bosco in Italy, France, Spain, the Tyrol, and 
England. He also founded a sisterhood, so as to be able to 
take care of young girls as well as of boys, and to help in the 
missions which he established in South America, especially in 
Patagonia, where fourteen thousand savages were baptized by 
his missionaries before Don Bosco's death. Latterly the sister- 
hood he founded has been working among the neglected Italians 
in this country too, especially in New Orleans, and there are 
Salesian Fathers of Don Bosco in New York City. This special 
missionary work, however, was not counted in the general esti- 
mate of the ten million children saved by Don Bosco. 

Every year eighteen thousand apprentices leave his institu- 
tions and go out to work, trained in body and mind for con- 
tact with the world. 

As a means of maintaining his work, Don Bosco founded a 
third society to which men and women, lay or clerical, can 
belong, their object being to help provide means for this great 
work, and the Holy Father himself belongs to this third 
society. 

In appearance Don Bosco, the simple country boy, who was 
destined to do this great work in this day and age, and to 
show the world one true way of helping to solve the problems 
of labor and capital and government that disturb the nations 
of the earth so much now, was a tall man of very pleasing 
features and manner. He was not very eloquent as a talker, 
but his heart was filled with a heavenly love for poor and un- 
happy childhood. Few of us are so limited in means, or in 
opportunity, but we can follow him a little way. Even the 
young children who go to Sunday-school often know, or could 
easily learn, of some neglected child that has perhaps no 
parents, or has parents who have no faith, and which therefore 
hears nothing of religion and of right. Like Garelli, Don 
Bosco's first pupil and follower, regular Sunday-school children 
could take such a child to their own Sunday-school. The 
children of the Paulist Sunday-school in New York City, for 
instance, are constantly encouraged to bring with them any 
child they know which does not go to Sunday-school in any 
other place. If, in addition to its spiritual neglect, the child is 



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1903] /p77^ Century Apostle of the Little Ones, 451 

in bodily want, bringing it to Sunday-school attracts the atten- 
tion of older people who are able, on occasion, to give it 
material as well as spiritual help. 

To those of us who are older, surely there can be no 
greater appeal than that of childhood for love and instruction. 
To withhold these is a more bitter injustice even than to 
withhold food and clothing. The one causes the body to suf- 
fer, but the other may mean the death of the soul, and de- 
livers the body to the lawlessness and to the excesses that 
lead to untimely death in one generation and help on that 
lamentable degeneration — physically, morally, and mentally — in 
the succeeding generations which is, to-day, one of the most 
discouraging questions in the dark problems of the great cities. 

And it must always be remembered that among the poor 
and the unfortunate the inspiration for better things must come 
from those who have more than they of means, of time, of in- 
telligence, and, above all, of devotion. 

In every age God seems to have raised up men with a 
genius for holiness, to speak to the people according to the 
needs of their day. And thus, in a century in which the 
powers of darkness were directed towards destroying childhood 
and youth by godless teaching, and by lack of any teaching at 
all, either sacred or profane, the providence of Divine Love 
raised up the humble peasant priest of Turin as an apostle to 
youth and a bulwark against its enemies. 

There is a vast margin for the following and the extension 
of his example right here among us. We have with us always, 
not only the unfortunate and neglected little ones of every race 
and color on the earth, but, even more pitiable, those little 
ones who, by nature and inheritance, would be with us, as a 
matter of course, were it not for the careless drifting of their 
parents on the easy and pleasant current of indifference, that 
spiritual sluggishness in some ways more reprehensible and cer- 
tainly less respectable than honest doubt or definite unbelief. 



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452 Italy IN Chicago, [July, 




ITALY IN CHICAGO. 

BY KATE GERTRUDE PRINDIVILLE. 

"here are parts of Chicago which are not Chi- 
cago. There are certain sections of territory 
lying well within the limits of her generous 
circumference which are not really local terri- 
tory at all. Semicircling the little strip of 
north and south and west side life which typifies to the world 
the hurry and bustle, the push and daring, the aggressive ad- 
hesiveness and bombastic ' assertion, the concentrated effort and 
loudly vaunted success contained in the name Chicago, lie 
Greece and Syria and Palestine and Italy; lie Germany and 
Holland, Russia, France, and Ireland ; lie China and Japan, 
and a thin paring of Africa. Chicago stretches along the lake, 
but back from the river are Europe and the Orient. 

And yet these seething, bubbling, polyglot communities 
are all Chicago too. They are part of the complexity of her 
government, of the diversity of her character, of the pictur- 
esque a.spect of her life. The foreign elements are slowly as- 
similating th€ diet of the American town, while in return the 
native craftsman is learning something from the alien. Each is 
giving and each receiving — one teaching the value of material 
prowess, one teaching the value of tradition enshrined in the 
splendor that was Athens and the glory that was Rome. More 
than any other agency, it is the Catholic priest who is surely 
fusing these hostile races into the component elements of re- 
publican citizenship. With the sanctity of his apostolic au- 
thority, teaching freely among the nations bound together 
within the limits of the heterogeneous town on the edge of 
Lake Michigan, the priest rejects, retains, and amalgamates the 
old customs and the old laws and makes them part of the vital 
essence of the new existence. Temporally as well as spiritually, 
sociologically as well as psychologically, the Catholic priest is 
the guardian angel of the immigrant in Chicago. He finds him 
shelter and food and clothes for his body. He teaches him 
cleanliness and sobriety, and control of the passionate instincts 



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I903.] 



ITALY IN Chicago, 



453 




The Reverend Edward M. Dunne, D.D. 

instilled in him as a climatic result of the tropical life across 
the sea. He educates his tongue in the new language, and his 
mind in the new laws and requirements of the new land. He 
helps his hands to find sustenance and his heart to vivify the 
glow of the embers of his faith by a knowledge of the reasons 
on which that faith is based. In his efforts to save souls, the 
priest is forming members of the civic community who will 
eventually enhance its credit among neighboring peoples. He 
is welding the international diversity into a national unit. 

Such is the service to which Dr. Edward^ M. Dunne, of Chi- 
cago, is devoting his life, his enthusiasm, and the scope and 
variety of his intellectual attainments. Such is the immigrant 
parish of the Holy Guardian Angels, a parish made up of peo- 
ple from the hills and towns of Italy. Immigration statistics 
of the last few years have demonstrated to students of ethnol- 
ogy the preponderating influx of the Italian race. Formerly it 
was Germany and Ireland which headed the list of representa- 
tion among incoming residents; but the condition of the farm- 
ing lands in the Italian peninsula, coupled with the rate of 



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454 ITALY IN CHICAGO. [July, 

taxation imposed by the government, has placed the figures of 
Italy considerably in the lead. New York alone is in danger 
of partial inundation because of the numbers of swarthy 
southerners who have established their Lares and Penates every- 
where they could obtain a foothold throughout her congested 
districts. 

In the same way, if not to the same degree, as Italy has 
overrun New York, it has invaded Chicago. But Chicago is 
less compactly built than New York. There is ample room in 
each of its separate divisions for distinct settlements of the 
picturesque Latin immigrants without encroaching on the en- 
virons of alien neighbors, or wresting from other transplanted 
races the territorial privileges acquired by virtue of prior pos- 
session. As matter of fact, each of the triple sections of the 
town has its own Italian community, its own schools and 
houses, its own church, mellow with the soft tints of Roman 
altar scarfs and the warm glow of the sun transmitted through 
glass replicas of the art treasures of its forefathers — the art 
treasury of the world. 

The parish of the Holy Guardian Angels is the newest 
Italian mission^in Chicago. In its present housing, it is scarcely 
more than three years old ; in its entirety, it is a little less 
than five years. It is situated on the west side on Forqucr 
Street, a narrow thoroughfare, jutting east from the cosmopoli- 
tan noise and rush and manifold interests of South Halsted 
Street. Forquer Street is all Italy — Italy in the liquid cadences 
of its language, in the glowing depths of large, dark eyes, in 
the southern bronze of olive skins, in the name of the great 
poet emblazoned over the doors of the red school-house, in the 
rounded arches of its church and the tender lines of the 
Madonna on its walls. 

About five years ago, at the conclusion of a retreat given 
for ladies of the world at the Academy of the Sacred Heart 
on West Taylor Street, a number of the participants discussed 
the imperative need of establishing a Catholic mission in the 
midst of the Italian colony thronging the vicinity of Hull 
House. A visit of appeal was made to Archbishop Feehan, 
who gave the project his hearty approbation, and requested the 
ladies to ask Dr. Edward Dunne, then a curate at St. Columb- 
kiirs Church on the west side, to conduct the exercises of the 
Sunday mission. The young priest was especially fitted for 



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1903.] Italy in Chicago. 455 

the work from his knowledge of the Italian language, life, and 
character, acquired in the years of his student work in Rome. 

Dr. Dunne instantly welcomed this extra opportunity of 
laboring in the vineyard of souls, and added it to the already 
plentiful mq^sure of his curate duties at St. ColumbkilFs. Two 
rooms in a school-house on Forquer Street were secured for 
the Sunday Mass and catechism instruction, but in a little while 
the space became totally inadequate to accommodate the 
throngs of children and adults who filed through the doors on 
Sunday morning. The need of a permanent church became 
paramount. On the death of the pastor of St. ColumbkiU's, 
Dr. Dunne resigned his curateship and devoted the whole of 
his strenuous energy to the direction of his foreign flock. 
Appeal to the generous men and women who from the incep- 
tion of the mission had stood shoulder to shoulder with him in 
his endeavor to benefit the Italians, resulted in the proffer of 
sufficient financial aid to begin the erection of the church. 
The corner-stone was laid with impressive ritual by Archbishop 
Feehan, in the presence of Mayor Harrison, a number of civic 
dignitaries and prominent residents from each section of the 
city, and a multitude of enthusiastic parishioners, who wel- 
comed the promise of the new edifice with fireworks and accla- 
mations of delight. 

The pretty church, dedicated to the honor of the angels, 
stands on Forquer Street, with its fa9ade facing the north. 
Outside and in it is reminiscent of Italy. The straight, tall 
front recalls many of the minor churches of Rome, and behind 
the doors are the rounded arches of Roman building. The 
three altars are draped in Roman coloring, and the windows 
send the memory of the spectator over the sea to the galleries 
of Rome, while his lips murmur the great names of Italy. The 
old life and the old rural existence, and the old soft tints of 
sea and sky and field and flower, and the old associations of 
friend and environment, are revived once more for the members 
of the mission church on Forquer Street, in the tender watch- 
fulness of a Raphael Madonna, in the appealing innocence of a 
Raphael Child. Before the acquisition of the pews even the 
floor suggested Italy, for old and young, infirm and strong, 
knelt humbly without support as they kneel in the vast edifices 
of the papal land — crowding close to the mysteries of the altar, 
an eager throng trustfully submissive at the feet of the padre. 



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456 



Italy in Chicago. 



[July. 



1 

r 




--a^r^^-''','iX 


BEI^?^ 



First Communion Sunday at thu Church of the Holy Guardian Angels. 

The congregation of the Holy Guardian Angels parish has 
outgrown even the generous dimensions of the new church. 
Dr. Dunne first thought, at the conclusion of the initial Sun- 
day service in the broad temple, that he had built his edifice 
too large, and that his mind was busy with future needs instead 
of present requirements. But to-day the pastor realizes he 
builded better than he knew. It is scarcely four years since 
its opening, and the future forecast is already a problem of 
to-day. Every Sunday morning five Masses are said or sung, 
and at each service pews, aisles, choir- loft, and altar- steps are 
filled with a devout multitude of men, women, and children. 
From an estimated attendance of 400 at the commencement of 
the mission in the small school-house, the parish now registers 
1,000 families, while the latest counting of the children in the 
Sunday-school numbered 1,433. 

The Sunday-school at Holy Guardian Angels is one of the 
most remarkable evidences of the good accomplished by the 
work of the west side mission. The Mass for the children is 
at nine o'clock, at which the pastor delivers a practical little 



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1903.] Italy in Chicago. 457 

talk in English to his small charges. During the services the 
children alternate the singing of hymns with the recital of 
prayers appropriate to the part of the Mass then being celebrated, 
Every inch of space in the church is filled with the body of a . 
child. They press against the walls. They overflow the pews. 
They throng the aisle space. They line — row after row — the 
altar-steps and approaches. They fill the benches of the choir 
gallery. What before seemed the conventional precision of 
architectural design has been dissolved into the fluid crowding 
of a swarm of dark-skinned, dark-eyed, liquid-speaking Italian 
children. But it is an orderly gathering in spite of the dis- 
order of too-contracted boundary walls. Lines have been 
obliterated, but conduct and manner emphasize the knowledge 
that God is there upon the altar, and that his eye is all-seeing 
and his mind all- knowing. 

After the children's Mass comes the children's Sunday-school. 
It is held in the body of the church, in the organ-loft, on the 
altar-steps, in the rectory, in every room in the basement of 
both church and parish-house — even in the laundry and furnace- 
room. Wherever there is an available space, there children are 
gathered together in His name and the name of His faith. 
Classes range from the tots who are lisping the English syllables 
of their first prayers to the advanced Catechism and Bible 
History course, while boys are taught to care for the altar and 
serve the priest at Mass. There are over 125 teachers who are 
actively engaged in instructing the members of the Sunday- 
school, besides a general assistant and a number of subordinate 
general helpers. Both men and women labor valiantly in the mis- 
sion work among the children at that early hour on Sunday 
morning. They come from every quarter of the extended city 
territory — from the suburbs far to the north and south and 
west. They give their time, their ingenuity, their enthusiasm, 
their knowledge, and their talents. They stand steadfastly close 
to- Dr. Dunne in unbaffled effort to educate the ignorant and 
reclaim the erring, to benefit the body and save the soul,* to 
form good Catholics and good citizens, to bring all under the 
loving care of the One Shepherd, within the safe confines of 
the One Fold. 

Many of the catechism teachers of Sunday morning are the 
sewing teachers of Saturday morning. It is the endeavor of 
the Holy Guardian Angels mission that industrial accomplish- 
ment should follow thriftily in the path of spiritual advance- 
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458 ITALY IN CHICAGO. [Jul)% 

ment, and that an education which keeps the hands out of 
mischief is the wisest co-operative of the education of a soul. 
Girls are not only taught to sew, but they are taught to like 
their sewing, and to do it carefully and neatly, by the remem- 
brance of the fact that the garments they are fashioning are to 
become their own personal property, to take home with them 
and to wear, and it is a matter of pride and emulation that 
stitches should be small and gores carefully matched. The 
sewing-school numbers about 350 children. 

In connection with the Sunday-school the Holy Guardian 
Angels parish maintains its own library for the pleasure of the 
more advanced scholars. Although as yet little more than the 
germ of a project, the shelves contain several hundred volumes, 
the donations of friends who have watched the almost unpre- 
cedented growth of the Italian parish on the west side with 
eyes that see its needs as well as its accomplishments ; that 
mark its struggles as well as its victories ; that find inspiration 
to go and do likewise in the courageous figure of its heroic 
priest, whose mind is ever active, whose hands are ever out- 
stretched, whose heart is ever open to feed his flock like a 
shepherd and in his arms to bear them up. 

Every child and every adult within the confines of the parish 
of the Holy Guardian Angels is under the constant supervision of 
the pastor and his corps of devoted lay assistants. When a boy 
or girl fails to be present at a single session of the Sunday-school, 
a teacher at once visits his home to discover the cause of his 
absence — finding out incidentally if all the members of the 
family go regularly to church and to confession, and if they are 
in need of sustenance or clothing or physician's advice. These 
reports are invariably the means of making men and women 
frequent the sacraments who have not approached the holy 
table in many years. 

Music is one of the important factors of the work of 
character-development in the Italian mission on Forquer Street. 
Dr. Dunne is an accomplished musician himself. He plays the 
organ during the children's Mass, and leads the singing with 
contagious zeal. The choir of youthful voices is remarkably 
tuneful. The choruses ring through the crowded church, and 
out into the sunshine and air of the world beyond the 
doors, the words of the English hymns which the tiny immi- 
grants from Italy are learning to consider their own. The 
choir promises even better performance than it has displayed 



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1903.] Italy in Chicago. 459 

hitherto. A music class has been added lately to the multiple 
interests of the mission, and the new organization is in charge 
of a competent instructor who freely offers time and service to 
help the work inaugurated by Dr. Dunne. 

The pastor of Holy Guardian Angels is a very remarkable 
man. He is about thirty-eight years old, of medium height, 
with broad, square shoulders which look as if they would not 
bend under a burden. His head and face are staunch and 
rugged. The chin is determined, the eyes benevolent, the 
forehead broadly intellectual. Its contour is strikingly Italian, 
and when, clothed in his priestly vestments, he stands at the 
altar to preach in Italian, it requires a vivid effort of memory 
to realize that the speaker under the Raphael window is not a 
wanderer from the shores of the Mediterranean but a citizen 
of Chicago by birth as well as by residence. Dr. Edward 
Dunne is the only son of Mr. Maurice Dunne, of the south 
side. He was educated in Chicago at the Jesuit college, going 
from there to the seminary at Niagara Falls, thence to the 
university at Louvain, finally terminating his education, after a 
course of lengthened instruction, at Rome. Dr. Dunne is an 
accomplished linguist, speaking and preaching German and 
French as fluently as Italian. He has a natural aptitude for 
languages, and a veritable genius for gaining the confidence of 
alien races. The curateship at St. Columbkill's was the first 
work of the young priest on his return to America, and Chi- 
cago, his present parish, the second. Dr. Dunne is certainly 
all things to all men and all children of the congregation of 
the Holy Guardian Angels. His mission is as diversified as 
the necessities of his people. He wakes to labor and lies down 
with the conviction that the hours of the day are all too short 
to finish the allotment of work accumulated within twenty-four 
hours. He is pastor, father, consoler, exhorter, denouncer, 
sympathizer, helper — helper always. He ' is without priestly 
assistant. He preaches four times on Sunday morning, three 
times in Italian, once — to the children — in English. He says 
two of the five Masses. He plays the organ, leads the choir, 
teaches catechism, instructs afternoon and evening First Com- 
munion classes, hears confessions, visits the sick, buries the 
dead, organizes sodalities and clubs, blesses marriage vows, and 
is the centre of enthusiasm at the manifold festive gatherings 
of this manifold festive race huddled up and down the side- 
walks of Forquer Street. He is the Doctor of Law of his 

VOL. LXXVII. — 30 

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Italy in Chicago. 



[July, 



^^^ ^ 


1 


1 




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A Public Procession of the Italians. 

congregation as well as the Doctor of Divinity. To save his 
unsophisticated people from falling victim to the wiles of jus- 
tices of the peace when they journeyed down to the court- 
house for marriage licenses — the foreigners readily crediting the 
tale of the necessity of a civil ceremony first, remembering the 
obligation in Italy — Dr. Dunne took out the papers of a notary 
public and sees to the procuring of the licenses himself. 



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1903.] Italy in Chicago. 461 

The pastor of the Holy Guardian Angels at the present 
time is educating four Italian boys of the neighborhood to be 
priests. So for the future, therefore, there is promise of 
assistance ; but ever since the establishment of the mission. Dr. 
Dunne has performed his clerical work alone. He has borne the 
burden and the heat of the day. He has built his church and 
his house, and is now endeavoring to raise funds to purchase a 
building for a school. There is dire need of funds. The people 
are very poor and can offer little aid, and there are past debts 
to be paid and future debts to be incurred. The congregation 
is growing, growing, growing — like the magical vine which multi- 
plied its leaves as one looked. Its development is bewildering, 
its advancement under the control of Dr. Dunne stupendous. 

Sunday morning at the Italian mission is the pastor's strenu- 
ous time. From the commencement of the six o'clock Mass, 
said for the laborers, to the conclusion of the Benediction which 
follows High Mass, he is constantly and actively exercising one 
of his priestly powers. Five times the church is filled and 
emptied. Four and five funerals, four and five weddings, are 
so frequently the auxiliary of the Sunday morning services that 
they excite but little comment. Yet this magnitude of work is 
all performed by a single man — a single priest laboring valiantly 
in the name of God and the blessing of the Trinity. 

It is Italy outside the church on Forquer Street on Sunday 
morning, as it is within. The sky is blue and the sun is shin- 
ing. The air is filled with the music of sodality bands brought 
to the new land of promise from the famine of the old. Fire- 
works are stretched along the curbing, and at the tingle of a 
bell the crash of igniting powder proclaims to the reverent 
watchers on galleries and sidewalk the solemn moment of the 
consecration of the Host. 

It is Italy within as it is without. The touch of Rome has 
cast its spell. It gleams in the colors of the windows, in the 
tints of the altar drapery; in the figures on the floor, in the 
face turned to them from the sanctuary. It shifts from the 
vision of the noble- hearted pastor to the memory of the in- 
domitable spirit shut up in the frail, bent body of the prisoner 
at the Vatican. For it is Rome everywhere where priest and 
people proclaim their share in the heritage of the Apostles. 
"For thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my 
Church. . . . Going therefore, teach ye all nations." 



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462 Reflections for Ordinary Christians. [July, 



REFLECTIONS FOR ORDINARY CHRISTIANS. 

BY ALBERT REYNAUD. 
OUR LADY. 

[ilERE is a name so blessed even blasphemers 
scarcely dare to mishandle it Of words wholly 
human, if we may call it that, it shines through- 
out the ages the purest, fairest, tenderest, and 
most undefiled. To lisp it brings even to lips 
of sin a tinge of shame, to sorrow a hint of hope, to faith a 
sense of grace — to all, a sound of Heaven, and a benediction. 
— Let us say it here ; the name of Mary, Our Lady. 

The saints have so exhausted language in her praise, it 
would seem that we ordinary Christians can have nothing left 
to say. And yet as sinners we have perhaps the more at stake 
to make amends for what our lives fail to say for us of acknowl- 
edgment, service, and love. 

Looking back over the course of the civilization of which 
we boast, can we overestimate the share . and force which that 
name has had in refining, uplifting, and gentle-making humanity ; 
— in making life sweeter, cleaner, and purer both for man and 
woman. No man can say that name often and thoughtfully 
without being a little more pure for it; no woman without 
being a little sweeter ; both, without being more gentle, spiritual, 
compassionate, and reverential of each other's dignity and 
nobility of birthright. 

Such has been the work and such is the unseen force and 
grace of that humble Jewish maiden who called herself simply 
the handmaid of the Lord. Oh ! wondrous scene in which she 
said it. We are Christians, Catholics, if ordinary ones, but we 
are such after all only because of that event. And the whole 
meaning and ways as well as manners of humanity became 
transformed not only by what occurred from it, but from her 
share in it. Throughout the ages God waited for that audience. 
Amongst all the children of men He sought out to whom to 
send His embassy of the greatest message which Heaven itself 
could conceive to send to earth. 

"And the Angel Gabriel was sent from God into a city of 



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1903.] Reflections for Ordinary Christians. 463 

Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin espoused to a man whose 
name was Joseph, of the royal house of David. 
" And the Virgin's name was Mary." 

How can we who have learnt the message ever forget the 
Virgin to whom it was sent, the Virgin whose name was 
Mary? What did she ever later do of undeserving in our 
regard whom God deemed so deserving? Say, all ye sects, ye 
men of all varieties who fail reverentially to repeat : '' Hail 
Mary." 

" Hail, full of grace." It was an angel who said it, and he 
spoke in God's name. Spoken in the light of God's infinite 
knowledge and truth, is there one else in all humanity to whom 
we dare dream such words addressed ? They make us shudder 
when we realize all that they mean ; I mean of contrast to 
ourselves. They make us thrill with reverential awe when we 
think of her to whom they were addressed. 

Do we wonder that the church has ever held a special 
worship for her — something apart and beyond that given to 
air the saints? Are we not rather ashamed and alarmed if 
with all Catholic lips we do not often say : " Hail Mary, full of 
grace " ? 

But that was only the beginning of wonders. Her fiat 
made God man; and she became the Mother of God. So that 
she could truly say to Christ those tremendous words which 
God the Father alone could speak : ^' Thou art my Son : to- 
day have I engendered thee." As St. Augustine says, the 
flesh of Christ is the flesh of Mary; and perhaps more mar- 
vellous, as he says again, she conceived Him by grace before 
she conceived Him in the flesh. 

But these themes are too sublime, although so familiar to 
Catholic ears, to repeat here the rapturous exclamations of the 
saints. Enough to rekindle the light of our faith at the flash 
of Mary's name. What perhaps does lie upon our poor lips 
to utter and in our poor thoughts to ponder over is that dear- 
est appellation in which the genius of Christianity, the inspira- 
tion of ages she helped to make gentler — in which, all that is 
chivalrous in man, pure and devoted in woman, has conse- 
crated its homage to her — the title of " Our Lady." 

Let us lovingly keep it fresh before our eyes, in our 



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464 Reflections for Ordinary Christians. [July, 

speech, our practice, and our life. There is no aspect of that 
modern life for which we have so pleased and vain a compla- 
cency, but that has grown by and glows with memories of the 
grace she inspired. Is it Art? How many a heart has been 
moved and saved even by painted and sculptured Madonnas. 
How many impurities the world has been saved from — both 
the artist who tried to picture her, and the myriad eyes that 
gazed upon his imaginings of her. And who will number the 
hearts whitened or kept pure at the shrines of Our Lady ? 

Our Lady ! Where is the sermon on purity with a tithe of 
the grace of those two words ? Our Lady ! — in saying it, the 
spirit within us seems to rcceivb a guerdon of knighthood, a 
patent of nobility. Our Lady ! Where is the hope in all the 
world for us poor sinners like that we feel as by saying these 
words often, thinking them, loving them, we almost dare to 
claim with truth and confidence that she is indeed " Our 
Lady " ? 

— O H>ly Mary, Mother of G^d, pray for us, sinners, now, 
and at the hour of our death. 




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1903.] Historical Revival in Sienese Treasures. 465 




THE HISTORICAL REVIVAL IN SIENESE TREASURES. 

IN TtVO PARTS. 
BY F. W. PARSONS. 

Part I. 

{HE learned Sienese archivist, Cavali^re Alessandro 
Lisini, ably assisted by Signor Casanova, has 
lately arranged an entirely new collection of rare 
specimens from the archives of Siena, and the 
opening up of this new display of the treasures of 
the past would seem to furnish a fitting occasion to call general 
attention to that which will be a delight to all to whom the 
archives have hitherto been unknown, and a new pleasure to 
those who have already observed their intense interest and 
historic worth. 

The Sienese archives constitute a wonderful treasure-house 
of original materials for the study of mediaeval biography and 
history, of social and political life, during centuries of fierce 
struggle between Guelphs and Ghibellines, of which Tuscany 
was the battle-ground and in which the republic of Siena was 
largely a factor. 

Besides invaluable letters and documents, contemporary with 
the first beginnings of civic, communal, and republican life, and 
extending down to our own times, there are manuscripts, 
records, and accounts which, in their material and illustration, 
as well as in their covers and bindings, are unique and un- 
rivalled, as illustrative of the minor arts. 

It is more particularly under this latter aspect that the 
archives will be considered here. It is not, however, possible 
to pass over in silence the immense fund of interest to every 
student and scholar, poet, artist, or historian, that is to be 
found among fifty-five thousand documents, one hundred and 
ten thousand letters, touching every phase of that picturesque 
and many-sided life of the middle ages. 

Scattered through this vast mass of documentary material 
and correspondence, or running through many thousand manu- 
script books and records, lie threads that would amply furnish 



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466 Historical Revival in Sienese Treasures, [July, 

the woof and weft of vivid pictures of men and women, sung 
by Petrarch and Dante, or otherwise famous in song and story. 
Portraits of some of them have come down to us in quaint 
miniatured and panel pictures, or on frescoed walls of church, 
or castle, public palace and oratory. 

The diplomi, or documentary archives, range in date from 
the eighth to the nineteenth century, inclusive, and are drawn 
from sixty-nine different sources. They bear upon every phase 
of the civil, political, and religious life of the city, commune, 
and republic of Siena, in peace and in war; internecine strife 
at home, or conquest and disaster abroad. In conjunction with 
the magisterial correspondence and records of governmental 
acts and decrees, they throw a flood of light upon the wide- 
spread international relations of the walled city on the Tuscan 
hills, financial and commercial, no less than political and military. 

Documents, or letters, of famous popes, emperors, kings and 
queens, or other civil and military chieftains and leaders of 
men in church or state, even of captains of adventure, reveal 
in a wonderful way, by the will or act recorded, or in a 
characteristic turn of expression, the personality of each writer. 
Nor are these human documents limited to the truly great or 
infamous, as the standards of this world may decide their 
character. Four long shelves are devoted to original letters, 
documents, and data of the life and work of St. Catherine, in- 
cluding the bull of her canonization. The memory of that 
keen humorist, marvellous story-teller, and most successful 
preacher withal, St. Bernardino, is kept alive by sermons writ- 
ten with his own hand. His quaint figure and sweet face are 
happily preserved to us in Christian art, and the official esti- 
mate of his true sanctity is shown by the bull of his canon- 
ization, here treasured. 

Among the Sienese archives are letters from many other 
men, whose holiness or zeal brought them into relations with 
officials or ecclesiastics of Siena. Thus, Brother Giovannina 
Torriani, general of the Order of Friars Preachers, writes to the 
rectors of the commune of Siena, announcing to them that he 
has commissioned Brother Girolamo Savonarola to visit their 
city for the purpose of infusing sterner discipline into the minds 
and hearts of his Dominican brethren of the convent of San 
Spirito. St. Francis de Sales seeks, by letter, the release of a 
prisoner of war. Brother Bernardino Ochino responds to the 



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1903.] Historical Revival in Sienese Treasures. 467 

invitation of the republic of Siena to preach sermons, through 
Advent or Lent, in the Sienese country. Three years later, 
Brother Ambrogio Caterino addresses a letter to the govern- 
ment of Siena, announcing his publication of a brief treatise 
against the Socinian doctrines of the same Bernardino Ochino. 

Among the original diplomi, or documents, anterior to the 
downfall of the republic, are two hundred and sixty- four im- 
perial grants, decrees, or letters- patent, and this series presents 
a beautiful collection of seals of the emperors, including many 
Byzantine designs. The archives of Siena are particularly rich 
in official seals, as well as in numerous impressions, such as 
are attached to these imperial diplomi. The Sienese have ever 
shown solicitous care in providing intelligent custodians for 
their public documents and records, seals, weights and measures, 
and every other detail of official administration. This was the 
case as well in the times of the free commune as during the 
supremacy of the Mcdicis, who, in so far as the art of govern- 
ment is concerned, preserved the names and forms of the 
republican offices. 

Many interesting and curious documents and letters attest 
the relations of Siena with military engineers, architects, sculp- 
tors, and painters, who served the republic, its citizens and 
guilds. Much of their work remains to us, and furnishes abun- 
dant evidence of that cultivation of the arts which would have 
rendered Siena a still more wonderful survival in mediaeval 
architecture but for the factional fights and internal dissension 
that so largely contributed to the loss of independence. Con- 
tracts, receipts, letters, declarations of property-ownership, for 
purposes of taxation, and sometimes ingenious appeals for in- 
direct assistance from the government, reveal the relative pros- 
perity, or improvidence, that the character or circumstances 
of individual artists developed. The Sienese school of art was 
unique in Italy, in a distinct, mystic individuality, inspired by 
religious faith, and never vitiated by the paganizing element in 
the influence of the Renaissance. I mean to say that, in the 
treatment of religious subjects, the work of Sienese artists was 
never marred by that grossness (not to say sensuality) noticea- 
ble elsewhere in Italy, particularly at Venice. In the lesser 
arts Siena produced some remarkable work, as we shall presently 
see, since I desire, in this article, to call special attention to the 
rare beauty and variety of the specimens that remain to us. 



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468 Historical Revival in Sienese Treasures. [July, 




The Piccolomini Palace.— Present Home of the Archives. 

Before dwelling upon them it is well to note a series of 
Dantesque documents, forming original materials illustrative of 
those whom Dante has seen in vision. Those whose blessed 
souls the great poet has evoked from Heaven, or whose weird 
spirits he has conjured up in Purgatory, or Hell, can be viewed, 
in their true perspective, by a study of these documents, orig- 



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1903.] Historical Revival in Sienese Treasures. 469 

inating with the very men whom Dante has crowned, or 
branded with infamy, largely as his prejudices, as a Florentine 
and a partisan, influenced him to do. This splendid collection 
would possess an intense human interest, even if not illumined 
by the genius of Dante's Divina Commedia, rare and early 
editions of which further enrich this assortment of documents, 
identified with his heroes and foes. 

Besides a vast accumulation of documents and letters, ar- 
ranged by centuries, years, months, and days, there are thou- 
sands of manuscript books of accounts, of vital statistics, of 
hospital administration, records of the General Council, registers 
of the great commercial houses and financial companies, or 
bankers, whose widespread international relations with various 
parts of Italy, France, England, Germany, and the Orient* 
brought wealth and fanie to Siena. There are the cpmplete 
family records of old feudal lords and their descendants, for 
hundreds of years, and of the more practical nobility who 
devoted themselves to trade and finance. Here are hundreds 
of registers of extinct or suppressed monasteries and convents, 
once hives of industry, of spiritual life, or missionary effort, 
now in ruins, or confiscated, as the vicissitudes of time or 
sp ^liation by the government of United Italy may have de- 
termined the result. 

Originally preserved in various localities, these historic 
archives of Siena now occupy forty- five large rooms of the 
second and third floors of the Piccolomini Palace, in the Via 
Ricasoli. This building is in itself a splendid memorial, in 
stone, of one of Siena's foremost men of the past, iEneas 
Sylvius Piccolomini (Pope Pius II.) This massive structure of 
the fifteenth century was erected by nephews of the great 
Pope, whose name it commemorates, from designs of Bernardo 
Rossellino. It is said that Martino di Giorgio da Varena, a 
Lombard master, was the first superintendent of works identi- 
fied with its construction. In his recent History of Siena Mr. 
Langton Douglas states that Lorenzo di Mariano (known as 
Marrina), one of the greatest sculptors of that age, made the 
capitals of the columns of the courtyard of this Piccolomini 
Palace and other sculptured ornaments for the same building. 
Mr. Douglas attributes the building of this palace to Pietro 
Paolo Porrina of Casole, Francesco di Giorgio's rival, and he 
further says, with some justice : " This is the only Renaissance 



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470 HISTORICAL REVIVAL IN SlENESE TREASURES. [July, 

edifice in the city that affects the imagination in the same way 
as do some of the great Florentine palaces. Of an austere, 
stately beauty, it was a fitting dwelling-place for the heads of 
a great house that for generations had done noble service to 
the state." It now furnishes a home for the archives. 

Zealous care has been exercised by the Sienese to preserve 
their many thousand parchment memorials of a glorious past, 
but there is little of date prior to the thirteenth century that is 
specially worthy of descriptive comment in a brief sketch that 
necessarily excludes biography and history, except by mere al- 
lusion. It is, nevertheless, interesting to note significant 
souvenirs of the plague, which ravaged Siena in 1348, 1361, 
and 1.374, and to study the methods of disinfection then in 
use. Agnolo di Tura, who buried five of his children in one 
grave, dug by his own hands, in the awful visitation of 1348, 
estimated the deaths in Siena and its immediate vicinity at 
eighty thousand out of a total population of probably two 
hundred thousand souls. The picturesque remnants of what was 
ambitiously planned to be the largest and most magnificent 
cathedral in all Italy stand to-day a beautiful monument to the 
plague (or Black Death), as an important cause contributing to 
the abandonment of this plan and the substitution for it of the 
existing cathedral church. 

Many officials died, and, to prevent the spread of con- 
tagion, thousands of these public documents were pierced 
with triangular apertures, to allow the air to pass through them, 
and the parchments and papers were fumigated with various 
scents and perfumes, with the same end in view. 

Many of the documentary archives are embellished with 
illuminated headings, or border designs, by Guidoccio Cozzarelli 
and other painters and miniaturists. Manuscript books of 
record have, in several centuries, been richly and beautifully 
decorated by some of the best artists in miniature painting. 
Perhaps the most artistic and valuable miniature of the four- 
teenth century, certainly the best of the Sienese work, forms ' 
the frontispiece of a manuscript register entitled " Caleffo dell' 
Assunta " or " Instrumentario del Comune," compiled in the 
years 1 334-1 336. This wonderful painting is the only existing 
work known of Niccolo di Ser Sozzo Tagliacci. It illustrates 
the Catholic doctrine, or dogmatic fact, that "Mary was as- 
sumed into Heaven, high above the choirs of angels." The 



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1903.] Historical Revival IN SiENESE Treasures. 471 




The Assumption of the Virgin.— By Tagliacci. 



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472 HISTORICAL REVIVAL IN SlENESE TREASURES. [July, 

Virgin Mother appears enthroned, surrounded by the angelic 
choirs. In exquisite delicacy and absolute finish this miniature 
stands unsurpassed. In his recent admirable History of Siena 
Mn Langton Douglas justly claims for this miniature that ''in 
the. exquisite grace of its line, as well as in the flower*like 
beauty of its color, this painting is unrivalled by any similar 
Tuscan work of this period." 

Simone Martini, a famous miniaturist and idealistic Sienese 
painter of the first half of the fourteenth century, endeared 
himself to Petrarch, whose friend he was, by depicting on 
vellum the face of Laura. The fifteenth century, however, was 
the golden age of miniature painting in Siena. In fact, a con- 
siderable school existed there at that time, and the indefatigable 
labor and artistic skill of Sano di Pietro have ranked him at 
the head of Sienese miniaturists in his day and generation. 
Rare specimens of his work are to be found among the choir- 
books of the Cathedral of Siena and at Chiusi. In the Opera 
del Duomo, or office of works of the Sienese Cathedral, and 
among these historic archives, to which this article is devoted, 
are evidences of his tireless energy and sustained skill. In the 
"Statuto deir Arte di Mercanzia," compiled in 1472, is a most 
beautiful miniature, executed by Sano di Pietro at tlie age of 
sixty-six. It constitutes one of the most beautiful exhibits of 
the archives. 

The whole subject of miniature painting is intimately as- 
sociated with a remarkable series of decorated wooden covers 
of the financial books of record of Sienese treasury administra- 
tion. From the earliest times the most important department 
of governmental control in Siena was that of finance. This 
administrative body, or commission, for the receipt and expendi- 
ture of public moneys, originated with the first beginnings of 
civic and communal liberty and continued to exist, in form at 
least, for about six hundred years, surviving many centuries 
after the downfall of the republic. This magistracy was com- 
posed of a camerlingo (a chancellor, or comptroller), and an 
elective body known as the *' Four Provveditori," from the 
number (four) to which they were generally, though not always, 
limited. The camerlingo was assisted in a purely clerical 
capacity by a notary, and this whole commission of finance was 
popularly styled " the Biccherna," a term originating with the 
name^ of a parish building of the Church of San Pellegrino, 



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1903.] Historical Revival in Sienese Treasures. 473 

where this administrative commission first had offices. All that 
had to do with this office and its varied responsibilities was 
considered as of or in " Biccherna." 

** Into the Biccherna were poured the customs, the prestanke^ 
the fines, the taxes levied for concessions of privileges and 
monopolies, and whatever other assessments, imposts, or trib- 
utes went to make up the revenues of the state. Thither came 




One op the Old Sienese Books of Account. 

the officials of the republic, the professors of the university, 
the ambassadors and the commissaries to draw their salaries ; 
there the heads of the guilds, the artisans and the mechanics 
who were engaged upon the public works, the painters and 
architects in the employ of the commune, received their wages; 
there alms were distributed monthly to mendicant friars and 
to the poor; while there also the berrovieri of the podesta, the 
ministers of justice, and the mercenary troops who were hired 
by the government were paid for their services. In fact, in the 
office of Biccherna on every day of the year, except the festi- 
vals of Holy Church, a perpetual stream of persons of all 
ranks and ages was passing to and fro from morning till night, 
intent either to receive or to pay money." * 

•William Heywood's A Pictorial Chronicle of Siena, pages 20, 21. Torrini, Siena, pub. 



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474 HISTORICAL REVIVAL IN SlENESE TREASURES, [July, 

"Thus the Books of Biccherna," decorated and adorned ex- 
teriorly, as we shall presently see, contained, as Mr. Hey wood • 
cleverly describes, " entries of the most interesting and varied 
character; such, for example, as the amount expended for 
perches for the falcons wherewith the Emperor Frederick II. 
went a-hawking in the plains of Orgia ; the price of the pur- 
ple mantle which the ill-starred Corradino offered on the altar 
of Our Lady of Grace before he set forth to meet his doom 
at the hands of Charles of Anjou ; and two years later the 
sums paid to Ventura, the painter, for emblazoning the arms 
of that same Charles upon the Carroccio (war- chariot) of the 
imperial city, and to Messer Deo Tolomei and the other 
Guelphs for destroying the tower and palace of Provenzano 
Salvani. Elsewhere are entered the wages earned by the 
officers of justice who burned the false-coiner Capocchio; the 
fines paid by Cecco Angiolieri and by the Florentine Casella, 
him whom Dante 

** ' woo'd to sing, 
Met in the milder shades of Purgatory,' 

both of them condemned for wandering about the streets at 
night after the curfew ; the sums given as compensation to 
citizens whose houses had been destroyed or damaged by fire ; 
the price of garments bestowed in charity upon an indigent 
feudal seignior whom the new order of things had reduced to 
beggary, the fee paid to a notary for rewriting a portion of 
the statutes which had been torn to pieces by a pet monkey 
of the podesta; the cost of the paper and parchment used in 
the public offices, and the money expended for ornamenting 
the covers of their books." 

The pictorial covers of manuscript records of this office of 
Biccherna and the other financial magistracy of Gabella (for 
tax-gathering and the farming out of certain dues and imposts), 
and the later evolution in mediaeval and Renaissance leather 
bindings, for these books of account, constitute a rare collec- 
tion of panel pictures and artistic bindings alone worthy of a 
visit to Siena. 

The incumbents of these two financial offices, of Biccherna 
and Gabella, were elected every six months. The camerlingo 
of each magistracy, or commission, at the expiration of the 
semi-annual term of office, made delivery of his manuscript 

*" Ibid., pages 21, 22, and 23. 



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1903.] Historical Revival in Sienese Treasures, 475 

books of account, there being two of Biccherna and one of 
Gabella. The first half of each book was consecrated to in- 
coming revenues, and the second half to expenditures and out- 
lays of every kind. The two parts were united, but unsewn, 
and enclosed between wooden boards, about fifteen inches long 
and some ten inches in width, connected by a leather thopg 
or strap, nailed to the centre of the upper plank and carried 
around the board underneath, thus providing a strong, adjusta- 
ble binding. At first the material of these manuscript books 
was parchment, but linen paper from Rimini was introduced 
in Siena in the thirteenth century. The language of entry in 
books of record, as of nearly all literature, in those times was 
Latin, a tongue common to all educated men, both lay and 
clerical, and every merchant, manufacturer, and banker, main- 
taining international commercial relations, knew Latin as part 
of the science of business and financial exchange. In fact, the 
vulgar tongue of the nations of Europe was in constant evolu- 
tion, and the vernacular, first used in the Sienese archives, is 
said to have been a sort of patois, Italian with an admixture 
of French. 

At first the planks, or tablets, encasing these manuscript 
records bore no decoration. In the first half of the thirteenth 
century, on the flat exterior of the upper cover, was placed 
the simple inscription: "This is the income" {entrata) ''and 
the expenditure" {uscita) **of the Biccherna" (or "of the Ga- 
bella"), "of the Commune of Sien^ in the time of . . ." 
There followed the names of the camerlingo and of the ad- 
ministrators, the provveditori of Biccherna, or the esecutori of 
Gabella, and the indication of the commencement and ending 
of their half year's term of office, the date of the year, etc. 
This title, or inscription, was followed by the armorial bearings 
of the camerlingo and administrators, richly emblazoned in 
colors upon the upper half of the first tablet, or cover. Nailed 
to the centre of this decorated tavoletta, or cover of wood, 
was the encircling thong or strap of leather. 

In the earliest times the camerlingo of the office of Bic- 
cherna was a layman. As suspicion, at least, of malfeasance 
in office was not unknown in Siena, in spite of ingenious 
checks upon unscrupulous administration, it was thought to 
obtain more assured probity, without nepotism, among the 
Cistercian monks of the famous abbey of San Galgano, and 

VOL. LXXYII. — 31 



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476 HISTORICAL REVIVAL IN SlENESE TREASURES. [July, 

this office of camerlingo, both m Biccherna and in Gabella, 
was generally filled by a monk or friar. This system of draw- 
ing public officials from the religious orders was continued, 
with but little serious interruption, until publicly denounced by 
Sin Bernardino, in one of his characteristic but immensely 
popular sermons, in the Piazza del Campo of Siena. 

Either through the esteem in which they were held by the 
community at large, or, possibly, through a harmless though 
unmonastic egotism, the practice originated of transmitting to 
posterity the portrait of the camerlingo on the cover of the 
book of his official acts and accounts. He was generally repre- 
sented seated at a table, making calculations, counting money, 
reading a book, or in some other, usual attitude. This por- 
trait and accompanying inscription occupied the upper half of 
the tavoletta. Sometimes the camerlingo appears alone, and, 
again, accompanied by his notary. These portraits occasion- 
ally give an excellent view of the office interior, with its parti- 
tions so arranged as to prevent more than one person at a time 
from approaching the camerlingo, the places provided for the 
administrators, and the great chests for money and documents. 

This was in the period from the second half of the thirteenth 
century to the commencement of the fourteenth. The art evo- 
lution by which these book covers developed into a remarkable 
series of panel pictures, or miniatures, was synchronous with the 
most brilliant and successful period of Sienese political history, 
when at least the Sienese were more united amongst them- 
selves and against the common foe, and prosperity shone upon 
union and concord. 

"The Sienese school of painting, from Guido and Dietisalvi, 
contemporaries of Cimabue ; from Duccio, Simone Martini, and 
Lorenzetti, contemporaries of Giotto, had become for a century 
and a half, with a particular sentiment of expression and color, 
the rival of the Florentine school, until the time when this last 
had a master such as Masaccio." * All this can be said, and I 
will go still farther and place the Sienese school of painting 
far in advance of Florence, until the advent of Masaccio. The 
Sienese painters did not manifest the same originality at a later 
date, though still illustrious, in Sano di Pietro, Lorenzo di Pie- 
tro (il Vecchietta), and others. But the history of their art 
during the time of prosperity will well repay some further study. 

•A. Geffroy, Tableties In^dites of Les Melanges d' Archiologte et d'Histoire, Paris et Rome, 



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1903.] The Strangers Who were Welcomed. 4J7 



THE STRANGERS WHO WERE WELCOMED. 

BY MARY F. NIXON-ROULET. 

fHE condition of the exchequer in the church at 
Maryville was a subject under serious considera- 
tion with the rector, the Rev. Father Regis 
Donovan. Indeed, at so low an ebb were the 
church's resources that his feelings bordered on 
desperation, or at least as near desperation as his stout heart, 
cheerful temper, and mind " set upon things above " would permit. 
He was a man sorrowfully described by his classmates, with 
whom he had been a great favorite, as " buried way down in 
Missouri"; and socially, perhaps, this was true. There was 
little of what one could call the social whirl in Maryville. The 
" smart set " did n't pride itself upon exclusiveness. No one 
could possibly have belonged to it except Father Donovan, old 
Mr. Francis, who had ** kep' the hotel since the wa'," and the 
new doctor, who had recently come there, and was doing an 
extensive if poorly paid practice,v for miles around. 

There was a good deal of sociability in Maryville, however, 
for the whole country was Catholic, and after the Sunday 
Mass some fifty or sixty people lingered in the quaint old 
church-yard; and where strawberry festivals, huskings, or any 
of the time- honored ways of making charity money were in 
vogue, the congregation readily responded to his Reverence's calls. 
There were times when Father Donovan was lonely. He 
missed the genial company of his kind, and longed for music 
finer than that which Isa May Carter dispensed from the 
wheezy melodeon on Sundays. Even the birds* Magnificat 
seemed at times shrilly complaining, and he would close his 
eyes and hear, floating through dim cathedral aisles of pure 
Gothic beauty, the organ's mighty tones and the harmony of 
voices which seenjed to lift his soul toward heaven. But he 
seldom indulged such thoughts, for his was an energetic soul 
and he loved his work. His bishop had known him as a boy 
and had sent him upon this mission wittingly, saying to him- 
self : " He is young and strong enough physically and morally 
to rough it. Maryville needs him and he needs Maryville. A 



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478 The Strangers Who were Welcomed. [July, 

city parish, with its ease and flattery, would ruin him/' So 
Father Donovan had come to Maryville, and had been there 
five years. It was a forlorn .place, yet in the midst of scenery 
which in wild grandeur is equalled nowhere. Above it frowned 
the bald knobs of Taney County, with the Boston Mountains in 
the distance, while to the north meadows of wheat, corn, and cane 
stretched like soft green seas to the undulating blue sky-line. 

It is a rich country, with fine farms and mines, and a pros- 
perity before the war marked by schools where Latin and the 
classics were taught, and well taught, by college men, gentle* 
men of the old school. Until " Reconstruction " set her blight- 
ing foot upon a people who refused to be reconstructed, Taney 
County blossomed like the rose, but to-day Maryville boasted 
only 3ome twenty houses, a blacksmith shop, and a " stoah ** 
where was sold everything from shoe-strings to quinine pills, 
and where, for lack of ready money, "butter an' eggs" were 
largely accepted as circulating medium. It was just the typical 
little Missouri cross-roads town, a hamlet huddled about the 
" square " where the roads came together. Little attempt had 
been made to beautify the place, and save for the fresh neat- 
ness of the priest's lawn and a superb Baltimore Bell rose 
trained over the porch and outside steps of the "stoah," the 
houses were plain frame or log dwellings, the latter well 
chinked and all comfortable enough, if not beautiful. 

The store was kept by John Sanders, at least the old sign 

over the door read 

John SaNDERs 
GeNL SToRE 

Biit John Sanders had been, a helpless paralytic for years, and 
his daughter, a sad-looking widow with three children, had 
" run the business " ever since her husband was killed in the 
Betty Lee mine accident. 

It will be readily imagined that not a great deal of money 
passed over the counters of the general store ; an,d indeed there 
was very little to pass. If dollars had been as plentiful as 
children, Maryville would have compared favorably with wealthy 
cities, for the poorer the people grew the more industriously 
did they, increase and multiply, and when all other crops failed, 
the crop of humanity waxed fruitful with increasing vigor. 
Father Donovan felt ,as though there were children to the right 
of him, children to, the left of him, children in. front of him. 



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1903.] The Strangers Who were Welcomed. 479 

when he preached of a Sunday morning. Wherever he was 
they found him out, and his triumphal progress through the 
streets resembled much that of the Pied Piper of Hamlin town, 
though the only charm the priest used was the music of his 
pleasant voice and his ready smile. 

From the children he learned much more of parish matters 
than he could have learned elsewhere, and their chatter often 
enabled him to quietly help^tbose who would have scorned to 
tell of their troubles. 

'' If I could organize a * Children's Crusade ' I'd soon have 
that church debt paid," he said to his sister, who kept house 
for him. Miss Martha Donovan was a somewhat sharp- featured 
woman of forty. Cordially as she despised the discomforts of 
their existence, she would gladly have resided in Sahara's desert 
if she could thereby have insured her adored younger brother 
from the horrors of bread that was sour — a word she always 
used with a half- whispered vehemence^-and other culinary 
abominations to which many of the inhabitants of Taney 
County were addicted. 

"We will simply have to do something for the church debt 
before Christmas," said Father Donovan. " Have n't you some 
ideas, Patty?" 

His sister gave a sniff of disdain. 

*' My ideas don't amount to much," she said ; '* besides, you 
can't get blood out of a turnip, and in my opinion you have 
bled these turnip-headed Missourians all you can. They have n't 
any more money, or they would give it to you. Mind, I say 
to you, not to our Lord. It 's shameful the idolatry these people 
show toward you. I don't see why you allow it It is putting 
the creature before the Creator"; and she gazed at him indig- 
nantly over her spectacles. It was a theory of Miss Donovan's 
that she did not worship her brother, at least not unduly; but 
she was quick to see the fault in others to which her conscience 
told her she was most addicted, a failing not uncommon in her sex. 

" You '11 have to send East for money," she said. 

"The bishop has none to spare, and doesn't like special 
appeals; he says they disorganize regular charities," said her 
brother. " I have n't the face to go to any of my old friends, 
for I have begged from them so often. The church needs 
painting this spring and the debt is assuming frightful propor- 
tions. If the interest isn't paid by Christmas, I'm afraid the 
mortgage will be foreclosed and the Methodists will take the 



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48o THE Strangers Who were Welcomed, [July, 

building. We must pray. — What 's that ? " as a sharp peal 
came at the door bell and his sister left the room. 

" Sick call ; make^ haste. A sick boy has been put off the 
through train, and they are taking him to the hotel. His 
mother is with him. They *re strangers going East from Mex- 
ico. He'll die up at Francis*. Have him brought here at 
once/' said his sister, all in a breath. 

"You're a good girl, Patty," called Father Donovan over 
his shoulder, as he hurried down the path. 

In half an hour - the stranger was installed in the spare 
room at the rectory, and Dr. Ochiltree was in charge, for the 
boy was very ill with pneumonia. Then followed anxious days 
and nights of anguish, for, when sickness holds in thrall a 
loved one and death lurks behind the curtained window, the 
sunlit days are sad; but when dark night folds her curtain 
about the sick chamber apprehensions wax as certainties, and 
dread turns to horror and black despair. 

A calm, sweet soul was the boy's mother ; a woman whose 
widow's black and sad, dark eyes spoke eloquently of g^ef, 
while. her sweet smile and placid brow showed that her "sor- 
row's crown of sorrow " had been nobly worn, and peace had 
come through pain. 

Jeannie Maclean bore her anxiety well. She was too brave 
ta whine, too much a gentlewoman to make others uncomfort- 
able, and she had a cheerful word and a pleasant smile for 
those who helped her in her trouble. 

"To think that such good Samaritans should, lurk in a for- 
saken little town like Maryville ! " she said. " I was nearly 
desperate on the train with Cyril so ill, and this the only 
stopping place for three hundred miles. I thought we had 
gotten off at the Desert of Sahara; and how could I know 
there was such an oasis of warmth and light here, with an- 
gelic beings walking around in black soutanes and calico 
aprons. Mixed metaphors? Yes, father, I know that; but 
never mind, you and your sister have been angels to me." 

Father Donovan laughed genially. "There are many of 
your church, madam, who would consider an angel in the 
garb of a priest very much in disguise," he said; at which his 
sister sniffed audibly, but Mrs. Maclean only smiled as she 
left the room to go to her boy. Father Donovan shook his 
head and sighed, saying softly, as his sister glanced inquiringly 
at him, " The only son of his mother, and she a widow." 

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1903.] The Strangers Who were Welcomed, 481 

In the days following even the bright spirit of the mother 
could not jest, and no one spoke save that Miss Donovan's 
lips moved as her thin hands passed up and down the beads 
she held, and in the sick room the watchers well-nigh held 
their breath,, so near the end did Cyril seem. But the darkest 
night has its dawn, and though days of anxiety followed, there 
was hope. The turning point had been passed so impercepti- 
bly that no one had realized it was such. Gradually the boy's 
fever lessened and he seemed creeping back to health, and so 
the days sped on till Christmas- time drew near, with all its 
blessed cheer and gladness. Yet the good priest's heart was 
heavy, for with the new year came the dreaded time of settle- 
ment, and he saw no loophole of escape. 

He made an earnest appeal to his people the Sunday 
before Christmas, and from the eager faces which met his he 
hoped his words had sunk into the hearts of the people before 
him. He had time but to glance at the collection plate as he 
passed into the sacristy, but thought it fuller than usual, and 
rejoiced when making his thanksgiving. 

As he rose from his knees a woman awaited him, and he 
saw it was Mrs. Overstreet, the sad-looking widow who kept 
the general store. 

"What is it, Mrs. Overstreet?" he asked. "I hope your 
father is not worse." 

" No, sir," she answered, " but I am in trouble. Yesterday 
the lady at your house paid me for her washing and gave me 
a ten-dollar gold- piece. I put it away toward the rent, which 
has been running for three months — times are so bad with us — 
and in looking in my purse I can't find it. Do you suppose 
that I could possibly have put it into the plate by mistake?" 
Her voice was trembling, her manner embarrassed, almost 
frightened. 

** I will look," said the priest. "If there is a gold-piece 
there it should be yours, for no one else is likely to have one 
in this poor little parish " ; and he turned to the handkerchief, 
tied at the four porners like a bag, wherein the sacristan had 
deposited the money. There lay the ten-dollar gold-piece, 
bright and shining, and the priest sighed inwardly as he 
thought how much that would help with the quarterly interest 
due on the church note. But he handed it to the widow, say- 
ing pleasantly, "That must be yours, Mrs. Overstreet. I hope 
it will bring you a blessing." 



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482 THE Strangers Who were welcomed. [July, 

She took it hesitatingly and looked at it with a strange 
expression, then drew out a quarter from her shabby little 
purse and said : " Here is what I meant to put in ; it *s little 
enough, but we have to count every penny. I can't bear to 
take that money. I feel as if I were" — she paused and burst 
into tears. 

" Our Lord looks at the heart, my child," said Father Dono- 
van gently. "The widow's mite was precious to Him, and 
your little piece of silver given with a willing, cheerful heart 
means more than the gold-piece gfiven unwittingly. God bless 
you and give you peace." 

As, still sobbing, she hurried away, the priest knit his 
brows and said to himself : " A strange mistake ! She seemed 
unnatural, but she has much to worry her, poor weary soul ! " 
Then he hurried home to the dinner which was his breakfast, 
and his sister's good-natured scoldings for being late. 

" Of course some silly woman kept you standing in the 
draught when you were so tired and hot. Her little trou- 
bles were better aired to an empty stomach ! If you were n't 
an angel instead of a man, you would have told her you were 
more sympathetic after you had had something to eat. Dinner 
is stone cold now. I wish the time would come when I did n't 
have to choose between serving you a Sunday dinner cold as 
charity or burned to a crisp in the endeavor to keep it hot. 
This chicken pie is hopelessly spoiled ! " 

If she had said nothing Father Donovan, like most men, 
would not have noticed that there was anything amiss with the 
food, had it been served with the piquant sauce of good cheer 
and that air of assurance which should always accompany a 
well-cooked dinner. He answered nothing to his sister's tirade; 
but as he ate his much-delayed repast he caught the twinkle 
in Mrs. Maclean's dark eye, and she laughed outright as she 
said: "Miss Martha, haven't you learned yet that it's no use 
to lecture your brother? You see, he's a very difficult combi- 
nation to manage, for a man never takes care of himself and 
a priest always takes care of other people. Better give it up; 
he '11 never be amenable to reason when there is any poor for- 
lorn around who needs him." 

" Father," she continued, as Miss Donovan gave a short laugh, 
" I never felt meaner in my life than I felt this morning. You 
have a horrible talent for making people feel small, did you 
know it?" 



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1903.] The Strangers Who were Welcomed. 483 

" No ; what have I been doing now ? " he asked. 

"Miss Martha went to early Mass and stayed with Cyril to 
let me go to 10:30 church. I wanted to hear you preach, so I 
forsook my Methodist brethren — there's no meeting-house of 
my own kind here, you know — and went to St Ignatius'. As 
a preacher you are fine, father ; but I do think you have 
missed your vocation. You ought to have been a beggar by 
profession. I never heard any one so persuasive. The coins 
in my purse fairly jostled themselves in their eagentess to get 
to you, and I was ashamed to have only a small sum to put 
in. I had used up all my bills to pay my just debts yester- 
day, and I had only — well, I'm just ashamed to tell you what 
I put in the plate after your wonderful appeal. I hope no one 
saw me, but I am sure the woman who sat next to me did ; 
she looked surprised." 

"Never mind, Mrs. Maclean," said the priest, with his 
genial smile. "You can make up all your deficiencies next 
Sunday. If I begged to-day, I shall demand next week. You 
would better go prepared, or you will find yourself taking off 
your rings and breastpin like the Jewish women did for the 
Temple of old." 

" Next Sunday is the time for a Christmas offering, is n't 
it ? " she asked. " I think it 's lovely when Christmas comes on 
Sunday. When I was a little girl I was always in terror for 
fear it would, for some one had told me that on a Sunday 
Christmas you could n't have any presents but Bibles and hymn 
books. When I was eight years old the dreaded time came, 
and lo ! to my delight we had Christmas turkey three days in 
succession ! One grandfather kept Saturday, another Monday, 
and we had our own turkey on Sunday. I nearly wept when 
they told me there wouldn't be another Sunday Christmas for 
eight years, and I often wondered if I should live to see the 
happy day. This year will be an especially happy time for me. 
I have so much to be thankful for in Cyril's recovery, and 
Dr. Ochiltree tells me that the boy will be quite himself in an- 
other week. What will you take as a thank-offering, father? 
A Christmas-tree for the children, a new soutane, books ? Tell 
me what would most please this good man who has saved my 
boy, Miss Martha ? Skilful and attentive as Dr. Ochiltree is, 
I know Cyril would have died without the comforts and kind- 
ness of your home. There is so much iji nursing. What does 
your brother want most? 'Give him away,' as the boys say." 

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484 The Strangers Who were Welcomed. [July, 

"He never wants anything," said his sister; "he is the 
most aggravating creature to give a present to. Offer him a 
mitre, and he would say ' I have to pay the church debt first " t 

" Is there a church debt ? That 's too bad. How much is 
it?" asked Mrs. Maclean, carelessly. 

"Oh, more than will ever be paid. Eight hundred dollars 
and some interest. We hx)pe to get enough from the Christmas 
collection to keep the interest up to date. If we don't, the 
mortgage will be foreclosed and the Methodists will get the 
building. I suppose then St. Ignatius' will be the 'Wesley 
Tabernacle,' or the ' Mt. Zion Methodist,' or the ' Grace M. E.' " ; 
and Miss Martha sighed dismally. 

Mrs. Maclean looked reflective. " I want to have a tree," 
she said at last. "Father, can't I give you a tree for the 
children ? I have n't had any fun for a long time. Please let 
me. 

" It will be very kind of you," he said ; and it was arranged 
that the tree should be lighted at dusk on Christmas eve, and 
a supper should follow for the children of the congregation. 

"That won't interfere with anything, will it, father ?" asked 
Mrs. Maclean. "The children can go to confession early in 
the afternoon and tell their Httle childish sins, and the evening 
will be free for the older people. Confession is one thing I 
envy you Catholics," she added. "You always look so nice 
and rested when you 're through. It must give one morally the 
sort of nice, superior feeling that a woman has when she is 
dressed clean and neat and the other women aren't. Are you 
scandalized. Miss Martha ? Don't be ; I 'm not half as frivolous 
as I sound, am I, father ? " 

" I 'm not your confessor, so I can't say ; and if I were, I 
would n't tell," he said, laughing. 

It was Christmas morning and the sunlight fell on the 
listening souls at St. Ignatius' as the Mass was sung and Father 
Donovan preached. 

"There was no room for Him at the inn — " how the 
powerful voice rang out in solemn, tender tones. It pierced to 
every heart ; the worldly, the indifferent, awoke to thought, the 
weary to fresh exertion, the loving to greater tenderness for 
the homeless Wanderer of Judea. "No room for the Christ 
Child. Is there room for Him to-day ? " the accusing voice 
went on, and in it was not the accusatibn of a severe judge 
but of a tender father. "Is there room in your hearts, dear 

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I903-] The Strangers Who were Welcomed. 485 

friends ? In the cold and snow of adverse circumstances, is 
there warmth of love for Him? Soon, without help, unless 
almost a miracle is performed among us, He will be home- 
less on our altar. His church will be His no longer. Make 
room, then, within your hearts for the Blessed Christ- Child this 
holy Christmas day. 

" But He maty not enter in where there is aught impure. 
No single sin must bar His presence, a thought unkind, a sin 
unatoned. Ah, my children, poor as we are, we can by peni- 
tence and prayer and praise make holy our hearts to house the 
Blessed Guest waiting for us to-day, the sweet Lord Christ who 
gave Himself for us that first Christmas at Bethlehem." 

It was very still in the little church. The crisp December 
sun shone brilliantly in at the windows and clothed with cheer 
and beauty the plain little chapel, whose white walls and white 
windows would have seemed cheerless enough had there not 
been about the place that air of holiness which impresses even 
the careless, and the sanctity of that Real Presence which 
draws all eyes and all thoughts to the altar. The service 
seemed even more solemn than usual, and the priest's heart 
was full of devotion as he said the closing prayers. 

Strong was his faith and fervent his devotion. All would 
come out right he was sure. God would not desert His people 
and His Church. " It has withstood the persecutions of ages, 
and it will stand, built upon the Rock, Petnis," he murmured 
as he made his thanksgiving, his soul calm and uplifted above 
earth's care and fret. 

Two women were awaiting him in the sacristy, and Mrs: 
Maclean addressed him hurriedly as he stepped toward the 
door. 

" I don't dare to keep you a minute, father. I 'm afraid 
of Miss Martha, and don't want to keep the Christmas turkey 
waiting. I just want to give you my Christmas offering." 

"But you gave the tree for the children, and my new 
soutane, and that dress for Martha — " She interrupted him : 

"Oh, those weren't the real thing; just side shows," she 
laughed. "Those were for you, and this is for our Lord — I 
must make a thank-offering for Cyril, you know. He's all I 
have, and my heart is just running over with thankfulness that 
our Lord lets me keep him longer ; so this " — she thrust a 
folded paper into his hands — " is part of my Christmas thank- 
offering, and I want you to let me have the church painted 

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486 THE Strangers Who were Welcomed. [July, 

and frescoed, and stained glass windows put in, and Cyril wants 
to give you a pipe organ. You see we don't intend to let you 
forget us." 

*• But, my dear madam, the church is mortgaged," Father 
Donovan stammered. 

"Was, not is — read the paper in your hand; but I can't 
stop to say another word ; I can smell the turkey burning now. 
Just say a prayer for us heretics and sinners sometimes, 
father"; and with a bright smile she slipped out, followed by 
the priest's earnest " God bless you ! " 

It was with a light heart that he turned to his other visi- 
tor, Mrs. Overstreet, her shabby black looking shabbier in the 
bright sunlight. 

"What can I do for you this morning?" he asked kindly. 

" I came to bring you this,", she said in a strained manner, 
as she held out the ten-dollar gold-piece of the week before. 

" But I cannot take it," he said in surprise. " You are not 
able to give — " But she interrupted him vehemently: 

"I'm not giving — it's not mine — I stole it; oh! how can 
I tell you how low I have sunk ? " And she burst into tears. 

Father Donovan was silent a moment, a deep pity written 
upon his face, and his lips moved as a swift prayer for guid- 
ance went up from his heart ; then he spoke softly : 

"You are afraid to tell me; tell our Lord about it." 

" I cannot, I am afraid ; He cannot forgfive ; it is the one 
unpardonable sin," she sobbed. 

" No sin is unpardonable but the one unrepented," he said. 
"Tell me in confession if you wish, but let me help you bear 
the burden, if I can." 

" No, no, not in confession. I must tell you now and bear 
the penalty," she said. " I stole the money from our Lord. I 
had to pay the rent or father and the children would be 
turned out of doors. I saw the rich lady whose son was sick 
put the gold-piece in the plate in church, and the devil whis- 
pered to me that no one would know if I said it was mine; 
and I yielded. I was going to give you the money after Mass 
to-day — I could n't keep it after your words this morning — 
when the rich lady pushed something into my hand, and whis- 
pered that it was a Christmas present. It was a fifty-dollar 
bill, and, father, it burnt my hand; enough to pay the rent 
and get us clothes, and I had stolen from our Lord all for 
nothing. He would n't even let me have the chance to restore 

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1903.] The Strangers Who were Welcomed. 487 

the money while I needed it; so I know there is no forgive- 
ness for me now." 

Her head sank in her hands and there was silence in the 
room for a moment; then the priest spoke, and he himself 
scarcely knew what he said, yet the words fell like dew upon 
the withered flower and healing balm upon the heart of the 
penitent. Soon she turned to go, and there was a holy calm 
upon her weary face as the priest's blessing and his quiet 
"Go in peace, my daughter," fell upon her ears. 

" Of course you could n't even have Christmas dinner on 
time," said Miss Martha, as they sat down at the table half an 
hour later than usual on Sunday. " Well, I knew how it 
would be, so I ordered dinner for half-past twelve. I should 
think those people who were so busy wishing you 'Merry 
Christmas' might have remembered the inner man and let you 
get something to eat ; but there is n't any use expecting women 
to have any sense." 

Mrs. Maclean gave his Reverence a quiet look from her 
dancing eyes. 

" Not a bit of use, is it, father ? " she said merrily, and he 
only laughed in reply. 

" Have you had a happy Christmas, father ? " * asked Cyril, 
who leaned back in his arm-chair, pale and worn. 

"The happiest I have ever known," the priest replied 
softly. 

" Was it the books, or the new soutane, or the setter 
puppy Farmer Jones' boy carried all the way in his arms, or 
the turkey, or the pumpkins, or the candy heart Baby^ Alice 
brought you in her sticky little paws ? " asked Mrs. Maclean. 

" All and yet none," he replied enigmatically. " It was 
happy because the snows of this Christmas-tide made pure and 
white a sinning soul." « 

A softened silence fell upon them and Jeannie Maclean's 
merry eyes grew gravely sweet as she murmured : 

" A saint of gentleness and kindness. 
Cheerful in precept and in penance winning, 
Gently leading from their shame and blindness 
Souls that are sinning." 



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In the Summbi^ ^oods. 

BY D. A. FABER. 

j,E AR the singing of the birds ! 
Sweeter far than honeyed words 
From the fickle human herds, 
Their song of love! 
Oh, what melody they make ! 
How their sweet notes on us break, 
And the sleeping echoes wake. 

Of the wood. 
Harkl the cock his clarion shrill. 
Harshly joins with whip-poor-will. 
And with widgeon's whistling trill, 

From the cove. 
Hear the emu's solemn rune, 
And the plover's plaintive croon 
Blend with raven's croaking tune, 

From the grove ! 
When the hermit's joyous strain 
Meets the nightingale's refrain. 
From the bell- bird, hear again 

His solemn chime! 
Oh, ye brightly-feathered race. 
Rich in beauty, rare in grace. 
Build your homes about this place 

For all time. 
All ye gaudy songsters, sing! 
Make the woods and welkin ring 
With the melodies of spring. 

Soon to go. ' 

Sing your richest, sweetest lay, 
Through the night and live-long day ; 
Thus to God the homage pay 

Which you owe. 
Let the skylark higher rise. 
Sweeter sing in higher skies. 
With the snipe and his allies 

Wild careering. 
Let the ruff on hillock dance, 
Whilst his mate, with stealthy glance. 
Fixes looks on him askance. 

But endearing. 



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1903] /A' THE Summer Woods. 489 

Let the capercally perch 

On his peak, and twist and lurch — 

Strangely posing 'neath the birch, 

For purpose plain. 
Let the acrobatic rook 
Tumble threatening toward the brook, 
From his flights or lofty nook. 

His mate to gain. 
Let the bower-bird adorn, 
From the break of early morn. 
In the sunshine and the storm. 

His palace home. 
Let the shells the brightest be, 
From the river-side or sea. 
And the feathers velvety, — 

They *re his own ! 
Then the arcade 'round and 'round. 
With the gay companion found. 
Let him strut, with chirping sound. 

Stories telling. 
Let the peacock spread his train. 
All its gorgeousness make plain ; 
.It will vanish with the rain — 

Pride rebelling. 
Soon the thrush will cease to sing. 
And the skylark on the wing 
Will awake no echoing 

In the skies. 
Though the redbreast and the wren, 
Both in forest and in glen. 
With the chiffchaff, oft again 

Will arise; 
For the last's two-noted cry, 
With a dread monotony, 
Will be heard with weary sigh 

The year around. 
Oh, then, sing your songs anew. 
Ye rainbow- tinted crew; 
Ring willow, birch, and yew. 

With joyous sound ! 



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490 



BEAUTY AND TRUTH. 



[July, 



BEAUTY AND TRUTH. 



BY P. F. W. 




thing of beauty is a joy for ever " ; " beauty is 
truth, and truth beauty," — so poets say, and so 
they say with truth. 

And yet, men might contend, those poets are 
telling untruths or are uttering paradoxes. Men 
instinctively revolt against whatever there is of untruth, or of 
cxctggeration in those truths; and they know how they are 
perverted or abused. As for the personal beauty of face and 
form, though " the saying that beauty is only skin deep is but 
itself a skin deep saying," yet, as F^nelon writes, such beauty 
is more an idol to the possessor than to any other worshipper 
thereof; nor is there any sadness, any misery, any tragedy, 
which historians, poets, and novelists have not told of as the 
end of beauty — more fair, more fortunate than a summer's day, 
closing in pelting of pitiless storm, in bitter and outcast 
wretchedness, or in the darker madness of triumphant denial of 
good. 

"The fatal gift of beauty, which became 
A funeral dower of present woes and past." 

" O til, cui feo la sorte 
Dono infelice de bellezza, onde hai 
Funesta dote d'infiniti guai." 

The inspired writers cannot take us further back than Adam 
and Eve ; and before Antony and Cleopatra and Helen of 
Troy, we read of Jezabel and of her daughter. The same 
chapters that tell of Herodias tell of our solitary boast through 
the ages of confusion, Mary Immaculate. 

For it is the macula^ the taint, that makes beauty and truth 
clash and strive and deny each other; which drives the sor 
rowing in shrinking from this fair world ; which turns their 
sorrow into purpose to relieve those for whom that fairness is 
a mocking sound from afar; and which, on the other hand, 
gives you mighty poets in their misery dead, and exquisite 



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1903.] Beauty AND Truth. 491 

authors corrupters of youth, and painters whose work is to 
deaden souls, if not to kill. 

All men feel these contrasts and everlasting combats be- 
tween good and evil. The difficulty is in the nature of things, 
in the facts of existence ; we are not in Eden, nor in Paradise ; 
not now 

** Love is an unerring light, 
And joy its own security." 

Catholics — as Aubrey de Vere notes in the preface to his 
selection, " Household Poetry," — Catholics must very specially 
feel the taint in earthly beauty ; and henj:e, having the beauty 
of revealed truth at their disposal, they often abandon the 
world to the evil that is in it. At least, as the poet critic 
says, English-speaking Catholics are inclined to neglect English 
poetry. This is very natuial, he adds. Another has noted 
** the supreme touch " of piety ; the delicacy, the courtesy, the 
reality, the beauty that it gives in mind, nature, and thought. 
We have all seen examples of such. Is not holy Mary the 
type and teacher thereof? But yet there is a danger in that 
neglect. We are in this mortal world. What is it? Who are 
we ? What lives must we lead ? And in his Idea of a Univer- 
sity Cardinal Newman has once and for all given the answer of 
the holiness that is in the world, though not of it. We edu- 
cate for this world. If we try to confine mankind to beauty of 
holiness directly (to reading lives of the saints, as Newman 
puts it), then we but send men to the world for its evil and 
with no guide to its good ; we but make the world their uni- 
versity. Alas ! how true, when we see pious men slaves oi the 
newest books — bubble reputations — and immersed in newspaper 
twaddle. As if worldly gossip and the dreary or unwholesome 
vaporings of quickly despised novels were as sound a natural 
basis for their supernatural citadel as good literature and good 
art. Even Voltaire can give helpful advice " to read what is 
good, and to read only that; to choose what for long has had 
votes of men in its favor." 

Goldsmith gave his picture of those who neglect to use this 
world's beauty: 

" If few their wants, their pleasures are but few. . . , 
Whence from such lands each pleasing science flics. 
That first excites desire, and then supplies ; 

VOL. Lxxvii.— 32 



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492 BEAUTY AND Truth. [July,. 

Unknown to them, when sensual pleasures cloy, 
To fill the languid pause with finer joy; 
Unknown those powers that raise the soul to flame, 
Catch every nerve, and vibrate through the frame. 
Their level life is but a smouldering fire, 
Unquenched by want, unfann'd by strong desire ; 
Unfit for raptures." 

And he even continues — is he going beyond our experience of 
modern de-Puritanized " fun " ? — 

. . . "or, if raptures cheer 
On some high festival of once a year, 
In wild excess the vulgar breast takes fire. 
Till, buried in debauch, the bliss expire." 

When we have said so much, we despair, or we shrink back^ 
or firmly purpose to love not the world, neither the things 
that are in the world. We read, as lately twice published, St 
Ignatius Loyola's little autobiography, terrible in intensity. At 
first even he condemns the courtesies, the formularies of social 
life. Has he no cause in this world of scheming and sham ? 
But (as his editor, Father Tyrrell, points out) who would less 
have treated our wickedness thus, than, later on, the founder 
of the Jesuits, the Society that sprang from Spanish grandeur 
of chivalry, having been passed through the fire of fierce peni- 
tence and self-abasement? 

These things never can be spoken of without weighing them 
in a balance. On one side, if you will, is the Jesuit missioner's 
denunciation of the wrath of God, and the threatenings of the 
fire to consume the world; on the other is the alter Christus 
bending over the wandering sheep, when in the blessed confes- 
sional he speaks the charity of Him who despises not the works 
of his own hands, nor turns his sight from the flowers of the 
field, looking over his creation that once was very good. 

More things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our 
philosophy: that warning is never old. No maxim is more 
Catholic. It was the desiring that all must be plain to our 
pride that has been the undoing of heresiarchs ; as when ** Re- 
formers," for the so-called glory of God, denied free-will to 
men, because they could not understand; and in wandering 
mazes wilfully lost, blindly would force their way out. Let us 
not imitate them on this side or on that. 



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1903.] Beauty AND Truth. 493 

What has been said above was suggested by reading a 
tolerant book, De Dante a Verlaine, by Father Pacheu, S.J. 

He judges as generously as possible Huysmanns, the French 
author, who has come back into the church. Huysmanns writes 
to Father Pacheu of '* the monstrous incomprehension of art by 
Catholics." "The church formerly led everything, and now 
leads nothing, the whole artistic movement of later years going 
on outside her pale, and far therefrom ; a sad thing, you will 
allow; and a something brought about by her own sons, who 
look on workmanship in words as something devilish, and on 
art as a sin." He adds, that ** if they turned from the debili- 
tating reading of little pious books to Odon de Cluny and St 
Bernard, they would . . . see no fear of ideas or of words 
there, but would . . . find sound tonics for the soul in 
their frank and bold open-spokenness and candor." 

The priest-author indeed protests in his book that when 
they say "the true Christian will like only abject things, and 
will despise and hate things beautiful ; he will not paint well, 
he will not be a good sculptor, nor a good draughtsman; but 
will confound art, that great delight of the soul, with common 
gross pleasure"; then, protests the priest, "every Christian of 
cultivated mind will feel such indignation, reading those words, 
that that alone suffices to brand them." 

And yet, he himself quotes, p. 185, another priest, TAbb^ 
Vollot, professor of Holy Scripture at the Sorbonne, 1837- 
1868, who "dreamed often that in my weak way I might help 
to bring back literature, that is the beautiful, within the realm 
of the church. More than any other I have mourned over the 
barrenness of the petits seminaires. Here are young men who 
have good stuff in them, and more than ordinary intelligence, 
yet who will never do anything because they have not been 
given taste, or style, or any high aspirations." This priest pro- 
fessor lived to see things tending in the right direction, as he 
thought, by de bonnes Etudes, literary culture. 

What sad things there are still to see in France, let any 
one judge who has visited the works of Catholics of old — 
almost the only non-classical things shown there or elsewhere 
in Europe, as worth a traveller's looks — and has compared 
Amiens, Chartres, and Notre Dame de Paris with the modern 
churches ; nay, who sees the Renaissance or nondescript altars 
and rococo ornaments erected in those old sanctuaries, and sees 



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494 BEAUTY AND TRUTH. [July, 

the mock metal work, the false flowers, the poorly painted 
statuettes replacing the exquisite, the strong, even if gro- 
tesque — now consigned to that museum of old Catholic loveli- 
ness, THotel de Cluny. 

Think of what modern Catholic France has done; not the 
Revolution, but the Restoration, that pulled down St. Bernard's 
own church, as large, if I mistake not, as Westminster Abbey. 
Who knows that ? Who would believe it, before he read Mon- 
talembert, as cited in Pugin's Contrasts of Architecture? It is 
almost too painful to note how modern custodians of churches 
bartered the treasures of the Middle Ages, and how secularist 
gfovernments have been found protecting the beauty of France 
from some of her clergy. Pugin's book — to be had for six 
shillings now — should be in every hand that would protect our 
inheritance, and guide the builders of the spiritual Sion, those 
who have to use the material of the world's works to God's 
glory, and who do use them, too often, in a manner to bring 
shame on her who inspired Christian art. Pugin scorns the 
wretched Reformation and all its dirty, ugly ways. Look at 
his contrasted pictures of a Middle Age town, its churches, 
its charities, its true democracy, its manly independence, the 
fruit of religion only ; no hate, no contempt, but rich aiding 
poor, giving more then (shall we say?) than the multiplied 
millions and millionaires give now; look at that ideal, and its 
expressions, in the burial of a receiver of charity during the 
Middle Age, with the robed brethren around, and all the 
gracious beauty of the church's office, with priest and assis- 
tants at the grave ; contrast that with the pauper's body carted 
away, after the insults of a Dickens-described workhouse. 
Look at Pugin's market- crosses, and at a Georgian street 
fountain ; at a bishop's monument in richness erected, but with 
humble attitude of piety, while the reformed prelatical bust 
stands up perky and thoughtless, flanked by two draggled 
wives ; look at a royal chapel at Brighton, with Jack-in-the- 
box pulpit, and minister preaching to a George ; and then look 
at St. George's Chapel, Windsor, before the wild sea of Henry's 
conscience rioted there, even while he saw the Holy Mass; he 
who now lies under the flag in that chapel where no Mass is 
said ; though vainly the same destroyer willed those hundreds of 
unsaid Masses that were to be offered for his poor, mad soul. 

Look at these contrasts in Pugin. But look also at his 



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1903.] Beauty AND Truth. 495 

Catholic altar and sanctuary of old, its noble dignity, its chaste- 
ness and grace, in reredos, in vestment, in carving and in metal 
work, and then at his modern "autel privil^gie," shapeless and 
graceless ; something like an ugly hall-door behind, with ridicu- 
lous tumbling cherubs, and hideous representations of Sacred 
Hearts. Think how we cross seas to view as a whole, and in 
its charm throughout, some little church, that would not now 
cost a quarter of what we might pay to build one, no larger 
it may be, but of no interest, of no exalted beauty, of no in- 
spiration. These things are worth much thought. Those old 
buildings of the Catholic Church's true democracy were the 
poor men's homes of art in its highest service ; and the vil- 
lagers were often artists who helped to build: no doubt, is 
there, of that? The people knew what was in their parish 
church; they knew why these things were in it; they cared 
whether they were in accord with the beautiful mind of the 
church that devised them, and taught her children their use 
and their glory. And often it is not lack of means, nowadays. 
" Lay not this flattering unction to your soul " ; so let us re- 
peat one to the other. 

Those who to-day restore what their heresy once destroyed, 
frequently show the external of old Catholic art better than we 
who possess the essentials. 

The essentials alone matter, some one will declare. But 
that is not the mind of the church. Because we do build, and 
paint, and adorn; let us da these things well. Let us not 
curse our descendants with half a dozen badly painted windows, 
instead of blessing them with one good one. It is a case where 
no bread is incomparably better than half a loaf 

As the strong-minded and practical Archbishop of Dublin 
said lately in his diocese: 

'* Everything about a church ought to be of the best; not 
necessarily in the sense of its being the most costly, but in the 
sense of its being the best of its kind, and of a kind that is 
good . . . This holds for the pictures, statuary, stained- 
glass windows, the carving of the wood-work, the mosaic work, 
or the tiling of the floor. // would be better surely to have none 
of these things in a church than to have them not good of their 
kind, . . . Nothing but good can come of the enforce- 
ment of the sound principle that, whatever we are to have of 
art- work in our churches should be really artistic; and that 



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496 BEAUTY AND TRUTH. [July. 

between what is merely mechanical and what is artistic — even 
though the art be of the simplest and most elementary form — 
there is a difference that in a sense is infinite." ♦ 

Anyway, the mind of the church was long ago declared. 
She decided against the Puritan Tertullian, and he left her. It 
was not her Pope, but it was Julian the Apostate, who forbade 
her children to use pagan classics, and to cultivate mind and 
taste in the school of pagan art. Did she not see the dangers ? 
Has she not, ever since, been providing us with safeguards ? 
Is she not striking for our soul's defence to-day in every word 
she utters about Christian education ? The dangers are only 
too plain. The world is always with us. Flee from the wrath 
to come ; yet, let both grow together until the harvest. And we 
cannot be wiser than the church. The New Testament might 
almost make us all Puritans, were the church not with us to 
interpret. But she is here ; to provide for those who keep the 
commandments, as well as for those who also sell all they have 
and give to the poor. Again, at the Renaissance, some of the 
holiest of her sons were for separating the wheat and the cockle ; 
with them were some of the most ignorant; on the other side 
stood those who knew. And though on this side there stood 
also the proud and the licentious, yet the church blessed this 
new mental activity — with trembling, as it were ; with longing 
for the land that is very far off — always thinking of her duties 
among the exules filii Evcb^ for whom she sings Salve Regina ; 
and then again Alma Redemptoris Mater; and afterwards Ave 
Regina Coelorum; until, at Mary's feet, leading us to sing 
Regina Coeli Laetare, she, in the fulness of triumph that for the 
first time may trust itself without fear, will then, with her whose 
spirit is our best guide in these uncertain wanderings, magnify 
the source of all: Him from whom we have received all our 
powers, the All- Wise, the All-Beautiful, the Creator of Mary, 
the King in His Beauty. 

• Archbishop Walsh was speaking specially of the art of organ-playing. And he thus 
applied the principles of art to church music, where he never compromises, but rather defends 
the church's laws as a true churchman : " This is pre-eminently true of the organ. Though 
it has a solemn religious purpose to fulfil, it ought to be an instrument worthy of that purpose. 
. . . And we cannot shut our ears to the profane or worldly music that comes from the 
organ, when too often in the hands of a performer wholly unconscious of the essential differ- 
ence there is in character between the music of the concert hall or theatre and the music of the 
Church." Wretched lay worshippers, or would-be worshippers, do indeed press their ears as 
tight as they can. From the profane picture or statuary you could, as the speaker said, turn 
away your eye. Yet the profanity in music, he added, is greater. And to that the ignorant or 
the foolish force us to listen. 



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(JOYGB JOSSBLYN, SlNNBF?. 



BY MARY SARSFIELD GILMORE. 



Part IV. 

ON THE HIGH-TIDE OF MANHOOD. 




CHAPTER II. 

[OES presentiment go before catastrophe, — or 

H- «HB ^ rather, does not misfortune crash like a thun- 
BBB JB derbolt upon humanity's least ominous hours ? 
^ ^^*^ ^ Joyce, at least, was to experience how sud- 

den and unforewarned may be the adverse 
turning of fortune's wheel. The relentless Nemesis stealing 
upon him cast before her no shadow of portent. On the con 
trary, his highest hopes, his brightest dreams, were attaining 
fulfilment at the identical era of her stealthy approach. Gladys 

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. 

Joyce Josselyn, born and brought up amidst all the narrowing restraints of New England 
farm-life, conceives the idea of going to college. His father Hiram considers that college was 
intended for the sons of the rich and that no son of his should waste his youth in college, and if 
Joyce chose to sulk, a good stout horsewhip was the best cure for the youngster's stubborn fan- 
cies. Joyce finds a sympathizer in his desire for learning in Father Martin Carruth. 

Chapter II. is a touching family scene between the irate Hiram and the reciUcitrant Tojroe, 
which concludes in Joyce receiving a flogging with the horsewhip and leaving home. Cnapter 
III. introduces Mandy Johnson as the boy s sweetheart, whom he meets as he is turning his 
iMU^k on the home of his childhood for ever, and they make promises of fidelity. 

In the first chapters of Part II. Joyce as a college student is presented to the various per- 
sonalities who make their home in Carruthdale, the manor-house of Centreville. and there is 
given an insight into the social life of a college town. 

Joyce was graduated with highest honors. Commencement Day at college. Father 
Martin is there for the first time since his own graduation. Dr. Castleton. the president, 
awakens into the spiritual sense. Joyce having outgrown Mandy Johnson, by common con- 
sent their life-ways separate. -Joyce enters the world. He accepts the offer tendered to him to 
be sub-editor on a western paper, and in this capacity, on the morrow of his graduation, he 
enters the vigorous, bustling bfe of the energetic West. At the moment of his departure he 
calls on Mrs. Ravmond and a significant interview takes place, in which the influence of a wo- 
man of the world enters his life. On the journey to the West Joyce has a long talk with Ray- 
mond, in which the latter ^ves his views on various matters, and states the terms on which he 
engages Joyce. Arrived m San Francisco, Joyce sends an exuberant telegram to his mother. 
Joyce enters social life and takes part in a ball at the Golden Gate Ranch. Mina and Joyce 
are drawn unto each other, while Raymond's wife talks of divorce. Mina and Raymond, land- 
ing at Island Rock, are both drowned. Joyce endeavors to save them, and narrowly escapes 
with his own life. After Raymond s death Mrs. Raymond removes to San Francisco, pendmg 
the settlement of her husband's estate. Pearson, having assumed control of the Pioneer, has 
a stormy interview with Joyce. Mrs. Raymond suddenly decides to sail for Europe ; Joyce, fail- 
ing to agree to her plans, decides to remain with the Pioneer. Stephen proposes to Gladvs. 
Toyce meets with the great temptation. Pearl Ripley, a Comedy Girl, enters into his life. 
Womanhood has lost something of its spiritual beauty as the result. Later on he is lured into 
a scheme of stock gambling. Stephen engages in social work, and tastes some of the higher 
things of life. He meets Gladys after the promised year's delay ; while Mrs. Raymond, a 
restless woman of the world, comes into Joyce's life again. Joyce is about to declare his 
love for Gladys when the news comes of a mine swindle Joyce saves Hans from despair, but 
comes again under the sway of Mrs. Raymond's power. Joyce and Imogen are married. On 
returning from their honeymoon Imogen dies very suddenly. Her death is the cause of Joyce's 
spiritual regeneration. Two years pass and Pearl Ripley comes with her child to the home of . 
Joyce's mother. That mother receives her and experiences her own punishment for having 
educated Joyce without religion. 



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498 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [July, 

Broderick and Colonel Pearson were the fates auspicious to 
him. The tolonel, in fact, was too zealous by half ! 

The Pioneer was the goal of Joyce's professional desire. 
During the first year of his bereavement, his new responsibili- 
ties of wealth had pressed somewhat heavily on his shoulders; 
but as the intricacies of Imogen's extensive estate were simpli- 
fied for him, his activity demanded the vent of some permanent 
interest, some definite motive of life-. The "press," from the 
first, had attracted him intellectually; while the "power" of 
it thrilled his manly ambition. The Young West seemed the 
field of American journalism at its best, — ^progressive in spirit, 
rife with opportunity, and not yet too conservative for vital- 
izing experiment: and since, simultaneously with his return, 
the Colonel had begun to crave the veteran's long furlough of 
retirement from service, succession as sole proprietor and editor- 
in chief of the Pioneer suggested itself as Joyce's destiny. 
Yet, unaccountably, his decision lagged, and the tyrannical 
Colonel waxed irate. He saw no reason for dalliance ; no jus- 
tifiable substitute for the Pioneer as the ball to be rolled by 
Raymond's surviving fortune. He fretted and fumed while 
Joyce considered and hesitated. At last his impatient patience, 
small virtue as it was, ceased altogether! Surfside Ranch was 
the scene of its sudden demise. 

" To the dickens with your everlasting flag of truce ! " he 
exploded, teetering his creaking porch- chair against the house,, 
and glaring disdain at Joyce, who was lounging at his ease 
against the balustrade. " My tactics don't hang fire an hour 
longer ! * To be or not to be ? — that is the question ' to be 
answered now or never ! Once for all, do you take or leave 
the Pioneer?'' 

Joyce looked reproach at his host, even while evading his 
challenge. In the rugged frame of the Surfside, far less 
elaborate than Golden Gate Ranch, he made a handsome and 
even impressive picture. Two years of earnest, reproachless, 
aspiring and socially retired life, had developed his higher 
manhood even exteriorly. What once had been only his mag- 
netic beauty of youth, was now the truer beauty of moial 
strength and manly dignity. In maturity he was fulfilling his 
youth's nobler promise. Yet there was a void in his life not 
yet filled. 

" I do not leave the Pioneer in the lurch," he protested. 



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1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 499 

"Where would honor, — the most common gratitude, be, — if I 
failed the least need of Raymond's organ ? But while a hero 
is in command, the reinforcement of a recruit is superfluous. 
Appreciate my humility. Colonel ! " 

" To be, or not to be ? " reiterated the Colonel, quite un- 
conciliated. " I tell you, Josselyn, you *ve played fast and 
loose just as long as you *re going to !. Serve or fail the 
Pioneer; but the issue can't stand over. Gad! A man ought 
to know his own mind ! " 

It was not the first tilt between host and guest of which 
the Surfside had been the scene, for since the lease of Golden 
Gate Ranch by Mam'selle and Gladys at the time of Imogen's 
marriage, the faithful Colonel had haunted the neighborhood 
like a solicitous ghost ; and Joyce gravitated naturally in the 
direction of Gladys, as frequently as opportunity offered. 

The intimacy sweet to the man was bitter-sweet to the 
girl, the vision of whose violets still humiliated her, — the shame 
and pain of whose vigil on the night of Imogen's betrothal to 
Joyce, though a time- closed wound, still carried its scar. 
Primarily, an instinct of self-defence had impelled her to dis- 
tinguish unavoidable social association from more simple and 
friendly intercourse; but Joyce, recalling Imogen's confession 
of cynical warning, had ascribed the girl's reserve and evasion 
to implanted doubts of his moral integrity ; and he had strug- 
gled so nobly to live down the suspicion, that Gladys had 
found it impossible to sustain her conservative attitude. More- 
over, Joyce's mother had interceded for him, albeit uncon- 
sciously. " Be a blessing to my lonely boy, for his souVs sake,* 
she had begged Gladys, at Carruthdale ; and the simple plea 
of the mother-heart had touched the girl, and seemed to re- 
proach her resolve of reserve, as self-conscious and unchristian 
selfishness. Mam'selle's touching pleasure in her young knight's 
filial gallantries, and the Colonel's assiduous cultivation of 
Joyce as the Pioneer's prospective purchaser, likewise appealed 
to Gladys* generosity, and hampered her independence. There- 
fore she yielded to circumstances, her distrust of herself per- 
haps the most crucial phase of her difficult position. When a 
woman has been self-contained, discovery of her own vulnera- 
bility wounds her pride of sex, and offends her sensitive 
delicacy. 

It was pf Gladys that Joyce was thinking, as his answer 



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500 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [July, 

tarried : and he flattered himself that his thoughts were his 
unrevealed secret. But, perhaps on the principle of a thief 
catching a thief, a lover infallibly recognizes a lover; and the 
Colonel read Joyce like a book. 

" It is a serious matter, Colonel," Joyce murmured, uncan- 
didly. " How long will you give me for decision ? " 

"Till a spin behind my mare has cleared your wits," re- 
torted tlie tyrant, rising to telephone to the stables for his 
famous trotter. " Now, where shall we drive ? " His fierce 
old eyes twinkled. " Suppose, for a change, we head the marc 
straight inland ! " 

" Why, certainly ! The very thing I " Joyce's assent justly 
caught the Colonel in his own trap. "The shore- road docs 
get monotonous, and there may be a land-breeze — " But his 
victim's disconcerted face checked his eloquence. 

" Oh, — er — but I was forgetting the glass-house built on 
sand," the Colonel amended. "The last storms undermined it, 
and it imperils your tenants. J am afraid we cannot get out 
of a drive to the Ranch. Too bad to make you a martyr to 
duty ! " 

" Now, Colonel, Colonel, no dissembling," laughed Joyce, 
with a hand on his host's shoulder. " As if you and the 
Ranch are not needle and pole ! Why not 'fess up to the 
charms of the dear Mam'selle ? I am sure we are all her 
adorers ! " 

The mare's dash up to the block afforded the embarrassed 
Colonel an excuse for deferring his answer. But as the spirited 
mare settled to the deserted shore-road, he turned the tables 
on Joyce with a vengeance. 

"*'Fess up to Mam'selle,' indeed, you scapegrace," he said, 
"when my unreciprocated devotion is already ancient history! 
It takes you self- loving young blades to fire from ambush till 
you *re dead-sure you 've hit the target ! Ten chances to one, 
I 've got your deuced caution to thank for my fruitless devo- 
tion, at present. If Gladys were married, Mam'selle's occupa- 
tion would be gone ! Why not 'fess in your turn that we 're 
in the same box? As the toast runs: The ladies/ — God bless 
'em ! " 

But confession came slowly to Joyce's lips. It had gone 
hard with him to admit to his own heart that he was in love 
with Gladys. Ignoring the truth, that even from the first his 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 501 

soul had strained towards her as his star ; veering to Mina only 
in chivalry ; sinking to Pearl in youth's weakness under stress 
of temptation ; wedding Imogen, indeed, but as the wooed 
rather than the wooer, — he felt convicted of fickle love, of un- 
faithfulness to memory. Not only Gladys' ideals, but his own, 
seemed profaned by, disdainful of him I Absorbed in thought, 
he forgot the Colonel's existence. 

A sudden cut of the whip vented the Colonel's irritation 
upon the mare, — an injustice which her high spirit promptly 
resented. Breaking her noted pace, she dashed ahead with a 
leap which nearly unseated her driver. Although now at sun- 
set, as the haze of dense heat fled before the trade wind, the 
rays of the sun were burning their way into sight, the day, like 
its predecessors, had been one of sullen glare and oppressive 
atmosphere, and as the mare galloped on her sorrel flanks* shone 
with sweat, while her neck tossed off foam- flecked moisture. 
'* WAoa, old girl! Ho, my beauty! — Slow—ow — ow^ there ! ^* 
coaxes the contrite Colonel. When he had her again under 
control, he turned her head towards the sea, holding her in to 
a walk far beyond the tide-line, wherfc the waves plashing half- 
way up the light rig, sprayed and cooled her. As they loitered, 
red and gold dyed the mazarine waters; and under the fresh- 
ening air and color, the parched sands inland seemed to pulsate 
and radiate. Out at sea, far to front, the buoy-bell . of Island 
Rock tolled its monotonous warning. The Colonel lifted his 
hat, with reverent solemnity. He never failed to salute the 
scene of Raymond's tragedy. 

"Well, the Ranch is at hand," he said as he turned the 
mare inland. "Put your fate to the test, and don't take no 
for an answer ! Boyle Broderick's daughter would be the mak- 
ing of you. Between her and the Pioneer — " 

" That *s it ! I take the Pioneer with, but not without her," 
admitted Joyce with a sigh of relief as he confessed his secret. 
" Bachelor suites are the devil, and I 'm tired of hotel-life. I 
commit myself to a Western career only on condition that I 
have man's life-anchor, a home!'* 

" Right you are, and home stands or falls by the woman in 
it ! Don't fool with your chances any longer. Every day 
means an advantage to your rivals." 

" But, Colonel, remember — Imogen I I feel in a deucedly deli- 
cate position. Putting aside other things, — and God knows 



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502 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [July, 

there are others, — don't you think that a sensitive girl must 
resent the fact of a predecessor ? Can she believe that a second 
love can be the grand passion ? Can she feel faith in the 
fidelity of a man who seems self • convicted of fickleness? By 
Jove, it seems an awful muddle ! " 

**My boy, life is life, and the living must live it. There 
are exceptional cases where, for one reason or another, conse- 
cration to memory is a proof of true affection. But in nine 
cases out of ten it is mere fanaticism or morbid posing. ' It is 
not good for man to be alone,' — and still less good for woman. 
I believe that Gladys is far too sensible for the supersensitive- 
ness you have imputed to her. Only a selfish, a jealous, a 
self -loving woman resents the dead past of the love that is hers 
in the present." 

" The dead past ! " Why did the words seem to haunt Joyce 
menacingly? Why, of a sudden, did they recall Father Mar- 
tin's sad warning, that '' the ghosts of dead pasts are fain to 
walk " ? 

But Golden Gate Ranch was in sight, and there was short 
time for moping. The mare's pace covered the distance with a 
speed inspired by the Colonel's natural ambition to cut a dash, 
as Mam*selle and Gladys, watching the sunset from the west* 
em veranda, waved their handkerchiefs in sign of recognition 
and welcone. 

At close range the strong light showed Mam'selle aged not 
at all; she had reached the truce-time which, under easy tem- 
poral conditions, keeps change at abeyance. Life with Gladys 
was more peaceful and congenial to her gentle -soul than it had 
been with her beloved but restless and exacting little Mina ; 
and time had softened the pangs of loss, with the tragic asso- 
ciations of Island Rock, to tenderest spiritual memories. Ray- 
mond, robed in his unsullied baptismal garment; Mina. one of 
the ** children " saved by heaven from earth's inevitable perils 
for her impassioned, erratic temperament, — these were visions 
less of pain than of gentle peace to the souls that loved and 
prayed for them. As for Gladys, the subtle seals both of love 
and prayer were stamped upon her subtly maturing face. She 
looked scarcely less gentle than in her earlier girlhood, yet 
stronger, more resolute, more self-poised and confident. Defi- 
nite aim and full grasp of life since the night of her girlish 
vigil had visibly dignified her character. Poor Dick's father. 



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t9O30 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. 503 

lonely possessor of the Dawson millions, representative Capital- 
ist — Hans Kaufmann, champion of Labor, — these two could have 
told what they had taught her, and learned from her ! Be- 
tween their two extremes, all social, industrial, economic ques- 
tions seethed, and class and mass struggled mortally. Gladys, 
bringing only tenderness into the strife, took of its strength, 
and waxed wise by experience. Yet her expression was still 
child like, as the innocent and spiritual woman often retains it 
far beyond the years when girlhood is supposed by the world 
to belong to her. There is a divine youth of soul that triumphs 
over the body. It is evil that ages in the unbeautiful sense, — 
not years ! 

As the Colonel flung his reins to a groom he proceeded, with 
characteristic assertiveness, to take Joyce and Gladys in hand. 

'* No wasting of the first real sunset for a week in dawd- 
ling up here,*' he protested, turning Joyce about-face even as 
he was presenting himself to Mam'selle. " Piazza and chairs 
for old bones like mine; and Mam'selle, in her courtesy, will 
keep me company. But off with you young people, to hear 
• what the wild waves are saying.' Only once comes the magi- 
cal hour I " 

With a smile at what she supposed was the devoted 
Colonel's frank bid for a tete-k-tete With Mam'selle, Gladys 
descended the steps towards the shore, eagerly followed by 
Joyce. The Colonel gazed after them with wistful eyes. ** Ah, 
Mam'selle," he sighed ; " for life's * magical hour,' — for the youth 
which builds castles even of sand ! " 

But the shivering Mam'selle drew her laces about her. In 
spite of the heat, the trade wind was penetrating and chill. 
" You are younger than I, cher ami,'' she admitted. *' / prefer 
the chateaux d'Espagne built of fire ! " 

Thr6ugh the doorway of the main hall came the flicker and 
fragrance of blazing logs. The Colonel rose, and before Mam'- 
selle could relieve it of her fragile burden, had rolled her chair 
over the threshold towards the open fire. She blushed like a 
girl as she thanked him for his service. It was becoming 
sweetly familiar to her. 

With a sigh of content he seated himself beside her. His 
own hearthstone was so lonely in contrast. 

" Castles in the fire," he repeated dreamily, his softened 
eyes fixed on the flames, his hand running restlessly through 



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504 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [July, 

his iron-gray hair. "There is but one castle for* maturity, 
Mam'selle, — the castle called Home. But neither for you nor 
me is it to build it singly." 

'* But already we have our homes," evaded the tactful 
Mam'selle, with a shell-pink flush. " You, ami,, as a father, — I, 
with the dear Gladys What desire we more, without the 
selfishness ? To build anew would be to desert present hearth- 
stones ! " 

'* The home of the married daughter is for her husband and 
children. The parent is its guest, not its master." 

" But the unmarried daughter is left you in the dear little 
convent-girl, Harry " 

The Colonel disburdened his breast-pocket of sundry letters. 

"I shall claim Harry for at least a year, yes," he asserted; 
"but a surprise is in store for you, — a sad surprise for me, 
Mam'selle. At your leisure read these, if you will, and advise 
me. My enfant terrible chooses to fancy that she is turning 
devotee! Do I regret or rejoice, I wonder, that I consented 
first to the convent for her, and then to her profession of the 
Faith of the sisterhoods ? My wild baby ! That she, of all 
madcaps, should fancy herself fitted for the gloom of the veil 
and the cell h" 

Mam'selle's darlc eyes flashed enthusiastically under her 
effective white hair. 

" Bien^ pauvre cheri^ it is the happy surprise to me," she 
acknowledged. " It is the place of peace for a woman, — the 
beautiful cloister! She will gain all, losing nothing; while the 
good God will recompense you. Stand not in her way, cher 
mon Colonel ! " 

" Not eventually ; but she must return for a time to the 
world, which certainly lacked no charms for her unsaintly child- 
hood ! That bright nature, that high spirit, that little coquette, 
immured in a convent? Ah, Mam'selle, not of such stuff are 
nuns made ! " 

'' Au contraire, my Colonel, it is the joyous of heart that 
make the amiable atmosphere of the convent! That devotion 
makes dreary is the blinded world's error ! The quiet, ' good ' 
girls, like our Gladys, for instance, take the veil more rarely 
than the wild, the wilful ones ! It is the high spirits that are 
tamed by the call of the Master ! The meek and mild are the 
peacemakers, — the children of God in the world ! " 



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1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner, 505 

** Ah ? •" queried the Colonel, scoring a personal point. 
" And yet you, Mam'selle, so peaceful, so devout, sometimes 
speak of an ultimate cloister ? " 

" Not until the marriage of Gladys seems to say that the 
world needs me no longer. And even then, not as a religieuse, — 
but just as a tired Martha, to await my call in peace I " 

" A selfish project, Mam'selle, — " 

''Mon Colonel/'' 

" Most selfish, I repeat, since it implies the desertion of one 
whose need — " 

" Pardon, — need not of me, but of some younger other ! " 

** Contemporaries are the only true affinities, dear Mam*- 
selle. My gray hair would dishonor itself if it wooed youth's 
bright tresses. Could a young wife make me the calm home- 
life that rests the weariness of life-service? Could she be a 
companion to my declining years, a mother to my young 
daughter in her vocative travail, a sympathizer in the tastes 
and desires that are not the gay pleasures of youth? Could 
she go down the hill with me hand- in- hand, journeying beside 
me towards the silent valley ? Ah, Mam'selle, subterfuges are 
useless. You know my need of you, you only. I am telling 
you no new story." 

*' Bun cAert," coquetted Mam'selle, " what one knows, one 
knows! But you have the man's unreason. You think of self, 
not of me. Is it, then, in a woman to make herself a jest to 
the world, by pretensions in age to the sweet things of youth ? 
Ah, no ! You know better, my Colonel I " 

'' But how .about making herself a moral heroine, Mam'- 
selle, — brave and noble enough to rise above the ridicule of 
the fool and the criticism of the narrow; to respond to the 
call, and simply, selflessly honor the claim of the contempor- 
aneous life that lacks and needs her ? What though few under- 
stand that the fiery sentiment of youth has not half the dignity 
of the intelligent friendship, the congenial companionship, the 
spiritualized affinity of souls that are nearing the home-stretch? 
Does the world's verdict make the true happiness of any 
individual man or woman ? No, Mam'selle, but too often it 
mars it." 

" But cher Colonel, be considerate ! Is it not that our 
Gladys needs me still ? " 

" Youth needs youth, Mam'selle, and sooner or later it 



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5o6 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER, [July, 

claims, or yields to its own ! Even to-night Gladys and Joyce 
— are finding each other I " 

Joyce, indeed, was striving his best to fulfil the Colonel's 
prediction; though to have addressed himself first to Mam'selle 
had been his correct intention, frustrated, however, through no 
fault of his own, by the Colonel's high- handed dismissal. As 
it was, he felt coerced to declare himself without further hesi- 
tation. He was in the phase when externals take all their 
color from the interior life, — a phase which only the spiritual 
and love-lives know; and his decision as to the Pioneer was 
dependent on Gladys. Therefore expedience as well as senti- 
ment forced his avowal. 

From the shore they had wandered in the direction of the 
glass extension of which the Colonel had spoken. The ball-room 
of Imogen's day had been restored by Gladys to its original 
status as an indoor garden; and the fountain plashing the 
marble Aphrodite, now bedewed with its spray splendid palms 
and exotic flowers. As Joyce sounded the walls and supports, 
Gladys seated herself on the fountain's rim, trailing her fingers 
in the rippling water. In Joyce's face she saw something that 
was both her pain and her pleasure.. The water veiled her 
hand's sudden tremor. 

*' Well ? " she queried, as Joyce rejoined her with significant 
haste. 

" Oh, the dear old Colonel is over-anxious," was his non- 
chalant verdict. ** It is a bit settled, of course, and I'll have 
it looked after; but in its present condition the Crystal Palace 
is good against anything but a 'shake.' By the way, though, 
the press is calling this * earthquake weather ! ' " 

"Then I trust that for once the infallible press may be 
proved fallible. The Crystal Palace is my beautiful castle in 
fairyland ; and the sensation of our slightest earthquake is inde- 
scribably sickening to me, — like a sudden upheaval of all things ! " 

Joyce sank on the marble ledge beside her. His eyes were 
very grave, very earnest. 

" Have all things ever upheaved for you ? " he asked. 
** A girl's life is so protected, — so peaceful ! " 

** You forget that I lost my dear father." 

** And that was your only upheaval ? " he pressed, with a 
young man's wonder at girlhood's eventless record. 



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1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 507 

Was it ? Gladys' thought flew backwards to Stephen's pro- 
posals—to the calm affection slowly responding to him, and its 
sacrifice in the Maintown chapel; to her violet-haunted dream, 
rudely awakened by the announcement of Joyce's approaching 
marriage, — and to the vigil which, even in memory, still cruelly 
humiliated her. As she hesitated Joyce assumed that her silence 
gave consent, and smiled at the superfluousness of his question. 

" But of course no real upheaval could have reached your 
life," he added. " A man's life is so different, — above all, a 
poor man's. The marvel is, that we survive our upheavals; 
but we do, and even come out ahead I Take our friend Hans, 
for instance, when the Pioneer -Mine crash crazed him. Yet 
only yesterday he was happier than a deep sand-clam, showing 
off his splendid boy to the fellows ! By the way, his old mother 
and the pretty Katrina call you their 'house- angel,' Miss 
Broderick." 

" Simply because my visits are so few and far betweA, Mr. 
Josselyn ! " 

" Rather, because when they occur the little house in Oak- 
land is glorified." 

" The fact that it is their own house by deed-of-gift glorifies 
it more practically," she retorted, to Joyce's discomfiture. 

'' Oh, Hans took the interest on his investment in the shape 
of a home," he stammered, unveraciously. " But speaking of 
home, Miss Broderick, do you know that my dear old people 
have quite deserted me ? Even Father Martin sustains a myster- 
ious silence. But perhaps you have recent news for me 1 " 

" No," she admitted, reluctantly. " I, too, have been think- 
ing the long silence strange. Yet ' no news is good news,' Mr. 
Josselyn." 

" Is it ? " he asked, dashing desperately into the subject 
most near to his heart. "That is what I have been trying to 
hope — through all these months of suspense! May I speak to 
you to-night ? Will you hear me ? Will you answer me ? Oh, 
you know without words the good news I am asking ! " 

As the throb of his heart impeded his utterance he was 
conscious, — though every thought was a love-thought, — of the 
tender twilight of the crystalline house unilluminated save by 
the afterglow slowly fading outside it; of the sway of the 
palms in the draught, of the musical play of the waters on the 
foam- white Aphrodite; of the flowers glowing like flames 
VOL. LXXTii. — 33 



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5o8 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [July, 

through the shadows. Place and hour were an ideal setting 
for human love words. Could Gladys resent — resist them ? 

With an instinct of flight, she had started to rise; yet 
yielded as the touch of his hand deterred her. It was come, — 
the supreme hour of maidenhood's heart-life, — when love's 
silence breaks into impassioned expression, and mystery fleeis 
before truth ! Had she dreaded or desired it, knowing, of late, 
its inevitability ? Mingled sweetness and bitterness made the 
query a problem. Loving Joyce's love, yet her own love was 
shy of response to it. Was he more stable now than he had 
been in the past ? Was fidelity, — loyal truth to trust in him ? 

" Answer me, — answer ! " he demanded, imperiously. Her 
blush and tremor were near to him; yet she still kept afar! 
To take her by storm was Joyce's tender temptation. To sue 
woman is the acquired chivalrous grace of the gentleman, — to 
claim her, the natural instinct of man. 

" What is — your question ? " she murmured, almost inaudibly. 
Her face drooped, her eyes hid themselves behind lowered 
lashes. She was suffering love's shyness, in whose pain is 
sweetness; — shrinking from the glory to which all her heart 
strained ! 

"The question of love, Gladys," he cried, impetuously; 
"with all that love means to a man, — to his life-work, his 
heart, his salvation 1 Alone in this rapid West, I shall be 
caught in the vortex. The tide is too strong for a man with 
no haven. But with the woman I love for my wife, — in my 
home, — O Gladys, — you know I O Gladys 1 " 

"The — woman— you — love!" she repeated, with an uncon- 
sciously tender inflection. Then a sudden resentment, the 
revolt of woman-pride against the hurt of light love, possessed 
her. Her soft eyes turned ruthless. They flashed on him 
proudly. " Love's present incumbent," she murmured with 
cruel irony. 

But Joyce was not wounded. The stab was healed of all 
sting by the balm of its motive. 

" Gladys ! " he cried, not appealingly but with uttermost 
triumph ; and by his voice, by his eyes, she knew that she had 
betrayed herself, — by her resentment, her reproach, revealed — 
love. 

" Do not play with me," he pleaded. " Do not punish me. 
Do not doubt me ! You know that you are my one love, 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 509 

though my blind soul missed you. From the first it strained 
toward you ; but you were too far, too high. Oh, my love it 
has been you, — you always ! " 

" Hush I You must not say that I Remember — remember — " 

" I remember my dead no less, because I speak truth to 
the living 1 A man's loves may be many, yet his true love 
but one. Under light or base fancies he still has his ideal. 
The superficially fickle are often faithful at heart. Susceptibility 
is no disprover of exclusive devotion. No woman can judge a 
man justly." 

" I think what men claim of women as justice, — is mercy ! " 

" Then grant me such mercy as women grant men. Do not 
deny me the chance that is the redemption of others. I have 
tried to grow worthy of you, — you must have seen that I tried, 
Gladys ! Of course I have failed. Yet the effort — " 

" You — have — not — failed," she said, softly. " Yes, I have 
seen your good fight. If the present were all — " Her speech 
halted. 

"The present is only the promise of the future that is in 
your own hands." 

" And the past ? " 

"Is past! Why rake over cold ashes?" 

" Because the flame of the past kindled the fire of the 
future. Only by looking behind can we see before us ! " 

" You distrust me ? " 

She did not answer. What, in truth, could she answer 
without wounding, — insulting him ? She knew her own mean- 
ing only vaguely, unspeakably. How could she define her 
troubled wonder, her confused convictions, her intuitive doubts, 
her uncomprehended fears ? But she had no need to analyze 
her conflicting thoughts. Each and all were Joyce's bitter 
knowledge. 

He paled ; yet his voice strengthened. Emotion was con- 
quered by resolution. Here was no ignorant girl, but an 
earnest woman. He must meet her, every inch a man ! 

" Gladys," he said, " vague suspicion is more fatal than 
fullest knowledge. And you are noble enough to forgive — " 

His words failed. An anguish of remorse, born of tender- 
ness, racked him. That she should have to forgive, — this pure, 
sweet, sinless woman, bowed before him as a rose bends to 
the storm. 



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5IO Joyce Joss el yn. Sinner. [July, 

** Imogen — " he began, but she interrupted him sternly. 

"There is nothing for me to forgive in your love for the 
woman who was your wife," she said. 

"Then does it wrong you that my boyhood's sweetheart 
cams and went with my native town's school-girl belle?" he 
demanded. " Or that between Mina and me — Mina, in life 
only a beautiful child to me ; in death, as a dear little sister, 
— '.vare youthful romanticism and springtime sentiment ? Gladys, 
these were love's fledgling flutterings." 

" And then ? " she pressed, inexorably. Her face was set, 
her brows frowning. There was something for her to forgive. 
What was it? 

Joyce paused to take breath. His heart fainted within him, 
yet save in truth where was his worth, his hope ? 

" And then, — yes, there was one madness of youth, — I will 
not lie to you. It wronged her who afterwards became my 
wife. It wrongs you, for whose love I am unworthily suing ! 
Yet to forgive wrong, — ah, Gladys, that is woman-love, wife- 
love ! Think before you deny me, dear — think ! " . 

" Oh ! I cannot think," cried Gladys, hopelessly. She 
clinched her hands, and swayed to and fro in pain of spirit 
so acute that it simulated physical anguish. What was right ? 
What was wrong ? Her heart strained and ached like a thing 
rent asunder. Why should sweet and pure love not come 
sweetly and purely, instead of thus sorely to hurt, thus sullied 
to humiliate her? AH unconsciously she was rebelling against 
womanhood's bitter lesson that 

*\ Lovers feet are softly shod with pain.** 

What sad pain love had cost her even from its earliest 
nascence ! She recalled the spiritual hurt Joyce's jaunty soul- 
lessness had dealt her at flrst, — a hurt significant of a human 
side prophetic of present developments, though at the time she 
had failed to recognize it. The vague sorrow his worldly let- 
ters had caused her in Europe recurred to her, — her deeper 
pain of disillusion, of desecration, and her revulsion not only 
from a potential guilt of the man, but from the woman so 
lightly hinting of moral flaw, when after their return, on the 
occasion of Joyce's social function, Imogen had whispered her 
suspicion, now justified by Joyce's own confession. Since the 
days when her youth had confounded charity with compro- 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 511 

mise with evil, Gladys had become more worldly-wise, more 
mature in knowledge of life, less intolerant in her judgments 
of human nature. Yet the pure woman's revulsion from ab- 
stract evil suddenly personified, the pain and profanation of 
love sullied and therefore unworthy, hurt her tender soul with 
the realization of the infinite pathos of sin. Heaven and 
earth, God and man profaned, desecrated, ruthlessly, heedless- 
ly, — all the beauty of the Divine conception of human life 
blurred, degraded, — beautiful youth marred and dishonored, 
noble intellect debased, the heart polluted, the Christian soul 
self- sunk from star to mire, — and all to what end, save late 
remorse, bitter penalty ? Through her tears her woman- eyes 
flashed piteous protest, — the pure supplication where\^ilh 
women and angels alike strive against mortal men ! 

The musical monotone of the water, the sigh of swaying 
palm and breeze- thrilled flower, contrasted pathetically in their 
gentle harmony with the man's heart-throbs of passion^ the 
woman's heart-throbs of suffering. Eden before sin entered it, 
is the suggestion of Nature; and in so far as human nature 
fails to respond to it, it knows its own bitterness. There is a 
darkness about evil from which the pure soul shrinks affrighted. 
The mystery of Joyce's sin was more appalling to Gladys than 
her knowledge of it. Yet in love's stress woman's heart sets 
but one course, — fidelity. Whatever the cost to her, faith 
serves love, by divine instinct. This is the law of survival, — 
of immortality. 

" Is it forgiveness, Gladys ? " asked Joyce. Her long silence 
had comforted him. A woman's surrender sends reluctance 
before it. 

•' In the spirit, yes. But — but — " 

** Forgiveness of spirit that is not in the letter, Gladyp, 
is a mocking pretence, — a hypocrisy." 

** Oh, is forgiveness love ? " she appealed to him. ** Would 
unforgiveness be self-love ? Am I confused by the problem 
that baffles all women? Or are there men, — is there love, — 
without reproach ? " 

"There are men. There is love," he admitted with infinite 
sadness. " But I and my love are not these, Gladys ! " 

Into the gloom she gazed, with eyes straining vainly for 
light. Then, of a sudden, with a soft sob like a child's whose 
hurt is consoled, she yielded him both her hands. 



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512 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [July, 

"Where perfect truth, perfect honesty, are, love must be 
worthy," she said, with conviction. "Joyce, it is not for me 
to forgive, but to forget!" 

''Gladys/'* 

"Wait," she said, with a gentle pride that restrained him. 
"There are conditions for me, as well as for you. As a wife, 
I must be still Boyle Broderick's daughter ! He left legacies 
which not only my wealth but my life must honor. I have a 
little red book which we must read together. Until then noth- 
ing is final." 

" I endorse the little red book without reading it," he 
cried. " Oh, my darling, my darling, kiss me I " 

" No," she whispered, " not yet ! " And her will controlled 
him. Her hands to his lips were enough. 

" Well, my boy, ' to be, or not to be ? ' " persisted the 
Colonel, as he headed the mare towards the distant station. 
His voice was triumphant. Joyce's rapt face had betrayed 
him. " Is the Pioneer yours, or another's ? " 

" Mine, Colonel ! " Joyce clasped his friend's hand, reins and 
all. " We '11 talk it over to-morrow, but no details to-night 
I 'm way up in the stars. Let me stay there." 

" With all my heart, boy ! " At the risk of a runaway the 
Colonel returned the hand-pressure. " I 've been there myself, 
in my time ; I 'm there again, — with a difference ! Once more, 
Joyce, * The ladies / — God bless 'em ! ' " 

" Amen ! " Joyce saluted the stars, in his ecstasy. Life 
and love, for the first time, were perfect ! 

Previously, in spite of his "luck," in both there had been 
something always lacking; but to-night had left no flaw, no 
incompleteness, no desire. Love? Until now, he never had 
known love in truth and in spirit ! Life ? He had not yet 
lived it. College had been but its prelude. Raymond's West 
but a start; his Pioneer success a mere prophecy; the Shasta, 
fortune's first favor ; his social popularity a sham victory ; even 
his marriage, only an initiatory experience whetting his heart 
rather than appeasing it. But his soul and heart, intellect and 
sense, ambition and tenderness, all were finding in Gladys their 
perfect complement. She was his own, and his all. His life 
and love reached their height in her, — the human height that 
reflects the Divine ! 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 513 

The cab that bore him to his hotel rolled and rattled along 
its way. The cars clanged by it, carts and carriages met and 
passed it, all unnoticed by its absorbed occupant. The dazzling 
electrics flashed before unseeing eyes ; the noise of the street 
jarred on ears unl>earing. He saw only the beauty, heard only 
the music, of the face and voice of the girl behind him : 
Gladys, his sweetheart ! Gladys, his wife I Even he, spoiled by 
conquests, knelt in awe of love's victory. He entered the hotel 
in a daze of happiness, and mounted to his suite in a dream. 

In the palm-framed corridors the night-lamps burned rud- 
dily. Only his footsteps relieved the midnight silence. The 
night-watchman, noiselessly pacing by, nodded with drowsy 
friendliness. " You *11 find your rooms open, sir," he remarked, 
as he passed. Then he yawned, and turned the corner indif- 
ferently. 

" Open ? " Why should his rooms be open ? A glance 
towards his transom showed him that his suite was illuminated. 
His heart sank. To-night of all nights, what uninvited guest 
awaited him ? He could offer no hospitality, — feign no wel- 
come ! 

No remembrance of a scene long- forgotten warned him; no 
thought of the night when his surprise to find his room-door 
ajar had culminated in the discovery of audacious Pearl Ripley ; 
no presentiment that the seed sowed then, under exterior cir- 
cumstances strangely similar to those of to-night, must be 
reaped now, in the hour when the harvest would be most bit- 
ter ! Pearl had forsaken him, rejected his suggestion of corre- 
spondence, voluntarily effaced herself from his life. Only 
remorseful retrospection kept alive even her memory. He flung 
open his door, and it swung to behind him, shutting and latch- 
ing itself with a click. For an instant the lights dazzled him. 
Then a sound in a corner caused him to wheel about sharply. 
He stared mutely, incredulously. Had love and bliss mad- 
dened him ? This woman-figure, tall and gaunt, age-stooped, 
familiar — 

" Mother ! " he heard himself cry, half in joy, all in won- 
der ! " Why, mother ! Is it you ? Why, mother ! " 

But the rigid posture, the sternly unsmiling, infinitely sad 
old face, — perhaps more than all, the mysterious burden of her 
arms, repelled his affectionate impulse towards her. Falling 
back, he brushed his hand across his eyes, as one strives to 



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514 



JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. 



[July. 



dispel the phantasms of lingering sleep. He must be moon- 
struck, delirious, love-mad, dreaming ! " Mother," he whis- 
pered, fearfully, " if it is you, — then father — father — " 

" Your father is at home ; and it is I, Joyce, yes ! " Her 
voice broke. She sank weakly back to her chair. ** I, your 
sorrowful mother," she sobbed, — ** with your son in her arms ! 
O Joyce, that / should be the one to bring him to you ! " 

" My — son ? I have no son ! " His face blanched as he 
knelt by her. " Mother, you know — that my child — died with 
Imogen I " 

** Your first-born lives, with — Pearl Ripley I " 

" Pearl Ripley ? Pearl Ripley ? " 

As he panted the name, horror grew in his eyes. He 
turned Joy to the light, then hid his face moaning. 

" O mother I " he sobbed. " And only to-night, — only to- 
night, mother, after long waiting, — Gladys — Gladys — " 

Her hand on his bowed head was her mother-answer! 
Only God's Voice could reach Joyce now. 

(to be continued.) 




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1903.] LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN. 515 




LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN. 

BY GEORGINA PELL CURTIS. 

JT IS the mightiest in spirit who are tried by the 
severest afflictions, and the loftiest in soul who 
attain to the greatest spiritual heights. In the 
careers of great men, however, it not infrequently 
happens that their biographers give us chiefly 
the record of their material triumphs, or the history of their 
art; and it is only the careful student who can extract the 
inner and spiritual life of the man, where it exists. 

Of Beethoven the Musician the world has heard everything ; 
of Beethoven the Catholic we know next to nothing. Yet a 
Catholic he was, loyal to his religion, pure in his life, and with 
magnificent faith in God throughout all the many trials of a 
sorely tried and stormy life. Natural reserve, joined to the 
deafness that early overtook him, drove his religion inward ; 
but it breathes in his letters and journals. " Nothing can be 
more sublime," he writes, ''than to draw nearer to the God- 
head than other men, and to diffuse here on earth those God- 
like rays among mortals." 

Ludwig Van Beethoven was born at Bonn on the i6th of 
December, 1770, and was baptized the next day. He came of 
a musical stock, his father and grandfather having been court 
musicians. At the age of four his father, a stern and severe 
man, commenced teaching him music, and at nine years he had 
mastered all of the piano, violin, and harmony that his father 
could teach. Of other education he had very little, his school 
days being over when he was thirteen. A quiet, serious child, 
he early became acquainted with poverty and sorrow. His father 
drank to excess, and Beethoven, when only a boy, set to work 
manfully to teach, so as to assist his mother, whom he adored. 
He called her his best friend, and for her sake he endured in- 
numerable hardships. 

When his father finally died Beethoven assumed the respon- 
sibility of keeping the family together, working with all his 



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5l6 LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN. [July, 

might to make a home. At this time he was reserved and 
reflective, trustworthy and generous, and both' then and through- 
out his whole life an abstemious eater and drinker. 

Meanwhile he managed to keep up his musical education, 
and he was so universally respected that he found friends eager 
and willing to assist him. Count Waldstein gave him a piano 
and substantial pecuniary help. Other friends were the Arch- 
duke Rudolph and Baron Van Swieten; but his principal 
patron was the Elector Max Franz, a brother of the Emperor 
Joseph II. 

When he was seventeen years old the elector sent him to 
Vienna, where he played before Mozart, who recognized his 
genius. He went back to Bonn, but in 1792 left there for 
good, returning to Vienna, where he was soon followed by his 
two younger brothers, to whom he acted as father and pro- 
tector. 

In Vienna he became a pupil of Haydn, and a student and 
admirer of Handel. It would seem as if his powers developed 
slowly, but his undoubted genius began to be recognized by all 
classes. Capable of great drudgery, perseverance, and applica- 
tion, he nevertheless did not take kindly to the discipline of 
teaching. At twenty-three he was through with instructors, 
and at thirty he was the most admired man in the Viennese 
musical world. 

At this time his appearance is described as very attractive. 
In figure he was powerfully set and of medium height. The 
head, also, was very massive, with thick hair that became snow 
white in later life, but the face and expression were more spiri- 
tual; the forehead and brow very fine and the eyes dark and 
searching. In youth he had a very sweet, clear-cut, and sensi- 
tive mouth, which later, through stress and trouble, became 
more set and stern. The man's whole appearance seemed to 
show forth the delicacy, and withal the power, of his own music. 

Weber speaks of " the square cyclopean figure attired in a 
shabby coat with torn sleeves," and one of his biographers 
writing of him says: "Everybody will remember his noble, 
austere face, as seen in the numerous prints: the square, mas- 
sive head, with the forest of rough hair; the strong features, 
so furrowed with the marks of passion and sadness; the eyes 
with their look of introspection and insight ; the whole expres- 
sion of the countenance as of an ancient prophet.** 



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1903.] LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN. 517 

And again he speaks of him as '' a sorely tried, sublimely 
gifted man," one who "met his fate stubbornly, and worked 
out his great mission with all his might and main, through long 
years of weariness and trouble." 

The same writer says further : " He embodied the regular 
and irregular in human nature, ever conscious of great powers 
and the ability to carry great responsibilities." 

And indeed Beethoven had need of the loftiest courage and 
faith. At the outset of his career, when fortune and success 
smiled upon him ; when the path to fame seemed one so easy 
to tread, he met with the most terrible affliction. At the age 
of thirty some imperfection in his hearing manifested itself, and 
in two years he was stone deaf. Shut out for ever during the 
rest of his mortal life from all the beautiful sounds of nature 
and art, his music henceforth could no longer be an artistic 
pleasure, but only a technical work. And yet so great was his 
genius, so thorough his musical education, that he composed 
his most famous pieces after he lost all hearing. One of the 
world's greatest conquerors, with every obstacle in his path, he 
fought and won his way to the highest pinnacle of his art. 

What he suffered, as little by little his deafness closed in 
upon him, we can guess. For him harmony was turned into 
discord. Communication with friends became a constant effort, 
and an irritation to the nerves; yet never in his darkest hours 
did he really lose courage, or faith in God and man. The 
strong heart, wounded to the quick, cries out in pain, but 
never in rebellion or final despair. He says : 

"As autumn leaves wither and fall, so are my hopes 
blighted. Almost as I came, I depart. Even the lofty courage 
which so often animated me in the lovely days of summer is 
gone for ever. O Providence ! vouchsafe me one day of pure 
felicity. How long have I been estranged from the glad echo 
of true joy ! When, O my God ! when shall I feel it again in 
the temple of nature and man ? Never ! " 

And again he says : " Hard is my situation at present, but 
He above is, oh He is^ and without Him nothing is." 

"Beethoven girt himself," says one of his biographers, 
" and conquered. Denied two aspects of his art, he applied him- 
self to the third, that of composing, with a marvellous force 
and energy." He might never have attained the height he 
did if he had not become deaf. "We measure him," says the 



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5i8 LuDwiG Van Beethoven. [July, 

same writer, "as we do Homer and Dante. All his powers 
were gathered into a spiritual focus." 

That at first Beethoven suffered from great spiritual depres- 
sion was only natural. He says in his journal : 

** God, God, my Refuge, my Rock, Thou seest my heart ! 
Oh hear, ever ineffable One, hear me. Thy most unhappy, 
most unhappy of all mortals." 

And again : " Resignation I what a miserable refuge ; and 
yet the only one left for me." 

In a letter to a friend he says : *' If I had not read that 
man must not, of his own free will, end his life, I should long 
ago have done so by my own hands." 

And then the strong soul reasserts itself, and he writes: 
*' I will grapple with fate ; it shall never drag me down. I 
will seek to defy my fate, but at times I shall be the most 
miserable of God's creatures." 

Then, overcome by the weight of its affliction, the strong 
soul cries out in its agony : *' O Providence, grant me one day 
of pure felicity. How long have I been estranged from the 
gladness of true joy ? When, O my God ! when shall I again 
feel it in the temple of nature and of man ? Never ! Ah ! 
that is too hard." 

No earthly sorrow is endless. When God strikes in love, 
he knows how to heal. If he takes one thing away, he gives 
another. Where one sense is destroyed, another and acutcr 
sense seems born of it. For some of us the blessing gained is 
greater than that which has been lost. To Beethoven came 
the tender healing and consolation of Nature. Some divine 
whispering seemed to go with it. Some touch of glory that 
passed into the music he henceforth composed. 

** No one can conceive," he wrote, ** the intense happiness 
I feel in getting into the country, among the woods, and my 
dear trees, shrubs, hills and dales. I am convinced that no 
one loves country life as I do. It is as if every tree and 
every bush could understand my mute inquiries and respond 
to them." 

"The extracts from his journal, his note-books and corre- 
spondence," says one of his biographers, "abound in religious 
touches and meditative ejaculations that make us feel that 
wherever he was, God was with him. All through his career 
his aspirations were toward a better, nobler life, and his aim a 



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1903.] LUDWIG Van BEETHOVEN. 519 

high goal. He salutes God in the woods and valleys, by the 
lake and ocean, at sunrise and sunset." Beethoven could com- 
pose best when the wind and rain and storms beat on him. 
From long country walks, from some gorgeous sunset or 
sublime view, he would come back calmed and comforted. 
Amid such scenes he drew his loftiest inspirations. " I wander 
about here," he writes, *' among the hills and dales and valleys, 
and scribble a good deal. To no man on earth can the coun- 
try be as dear as it is to me." 

In [808 Jerome Bonaparte offered him the post of court 
chapel-master at Cassel, an advantageous offer which Beethoven 
was inclined to accept. The idea of losing him, , however, 
moved his friends to make every effort to keep him in Vienna. 
The Archduke Rudolph, and Princes Lobkowitz and Kinsy, 
drew up and signed a paper in which they agreed to pay the 
musician four thousand florins per annum, provided he remained 
in Vienna. To this proposition Beethoven acceded; but it was 
not very long before the princes failed to keep their contract, 
and the maestro with sturdy independence entered, unaided, 
into business relations with Messrs. Breitkopf and Hartel. 

*' The publishers' demands for my works," he wrote to a 
friend, "are so great that I humbly thank the Almighty." We 
can gather from all this what was the private character of the 
man. He had many of the eccentricities of genius, and some 
ways the reverse of attractive. 

He was untidy, a poor business manager, and unable to 
keep money. His deafness made him nervous, and this in turn 
caused irritability. Many gave him the reputation of being 
harsh, bitter, and suspicious. Whereas he had, in truth, a deep, 
strong, and tender heart that was tried and wounded by all 
the circumstances of his life. He lived in an age when physical 
infirmities were not as easily alleviated as they are now; and 
when, to talk on paper or wield a facile pen in conversation, 
was out of the common. Hence, although he was a loyal 
friend and loved society and companionship, he was constantly 
thrown back on himself. 

His generosity, his readiness to give his time and composi- 
tions to help charitable projects, or needy people; and, above 
all, his unstinted and heartfelt admiration for genius in others, 
are among his finest traits. In him was never found either 
jealousy or any petty meanness. 



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520 LuDwiG Van Beethoven. [July, 

In his private life, also, he was above reproach. All writers 
are agreed that while he was attracted to women, and was even 
many times in love, like most artist temperaments, that his 
morals were austere and pure, and his affections kept within 
bounds. He never married, though he carried on a voluminous 
correspondence with women of different rank, but no liaison, no 
breath of scandal, has ever attached to his name. Only a 
strong, honest character could have lived such a life. In his 
later years all the riches of his affection and loyalty were 
poured forth upon his nephew Karl, a graceless scamp, who 
never showed one spark of love or gratitude in return. Assisted 
again and again by his uncle, started in first one career and 
then another, Karl was a constant failure, and like most noble 
natures Beethoven seems to think some blame must attach to 
himself. He says : 

" God ! God ! my strength, my rock ! Thou canst look in 
my innermost thoughts, and judge how it grieves me to cause 
suffering, even by good actions, to my heart's one — Karl." 

This man who did so much for others never forgot a kind- 
ness. Says one of his contemporaries : " When his mother lay 
ill at Bonn, he hurried home. After the funeral he suffered 
greatly from poverty, and was befriended and relieved by 
Ries, the violinist. Years later Ries' son waited on Beethoven 
with a letter from his father, and was received with cordial 
warmth. ' Tell your father,' said Beethoven, ' that I have not 
forgotten the death of my mother.' Ever after he was a help- 
ful and devoted friend to Ferdinand Ries, and forwarded his 
musical career." . x 

As a composer Beethoven had true reverence for his art 
Speaking of his own music he says : " What is this compared 
to the grandest of all Masters of Harmony — above — above?" 

He excels as a composer of sacred music, and his chief 
fame lies in his symphonic compositions. In this class of 
music the highest intellectual expression is to be found, and in 
Beethoven the symphony found its master. 

His genius was so original and fertile, his resources in him- 
self so great, that he never borrowed ideas from old musical 
writers, as did Handel, Haydn, Mozart, Schubert, and Men- 
delssohn. To the deaf musician alone, pathetic in his afflictioQi 
sublime in his dignity and power, belongs the glory of truly 
original composition. " He above all others," says a modern 



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1903.] . LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN. 52 1 

writer, " has made us feel not only the beauty, but the power 
of sound. His hand swept the whole range of expression, from 
the sublime to what is simply beautiful and melodious. This 
music, its spiritual passion and poetry, its' aspiration and long- 
ing, as well as the lofty humanity of his sonatas, are the ex- 
pression of his own inner life." 

These beautiful sounds which could sway a whole multitude 
with passionate enthusiasm, and which emanated from the 
man's inner consciousness, never thrilled or delighted his own 
ear. What to others were the most exquisite harmonies be- 
came to him simply "noise." Indeed, like most deaf people, 
he suflfered acutely from sound when it did reach him. Not 
infrequently he would plug his ears with cotton wool, and then 
wield the baton during the performance of his own choral 
symphony, leading with marvellous intuition and skill, as if he 
heard it all. 

His lofty and religious mind made him refuse to write 
operas. His " Fidelio " is his only work of that class ; but he 
never wrote a second, giving as a reason that "he could not 
find a libretto of a sufficiently elevating and moral nature to 
induce him to devote himself to another work for the dramatic 
lyric stage." 

That this man of great intellect, the tone of whose letters 
and journals, it has been said, " was that of a high-minded and 
thoughtful Christian," was also a Catholic, is a fact of which 
we may be proud. Non-Catholic writers, religious and other- 
wise, have sought to prove that " he was not bound by the 
trammels of the Roman Church," that he did not talk of going 
to Mass, or of his theological views especially, but Beethoven 
was not one to talk of what he did. It is enough to know 
that his whole life expressed the glory of his faith, and that in 
his mortal illness he asked the Ursuline Sisters to pray for him, 
and received humbly and prayerfully the last sacraments of the 
church. 

And so he died, his final words and expression of faith 
triumphant — the consolation of all those deprived as he was of 
one of the avenues of sense — " I shall hear in Heaven." 



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522 A Canadian Dialect Poet. [July, 




A CANADIAN DIALECT POET. 

BY THOMAS O'HAGAN, M.A.. PH.D. 

^ANADA has produced its nest of songsters — 
bassos, tenors, sopranos, and contraltos. But 
Canadian poetry is chiefly objective. The note of 
subjectivity or introspection in it is not large. A 
few Canadian poets have entered the inner tem- 
ple of thought and laid the flower and fruit of their inspiration 
upon its altar. 

In the domain of humorous and dialect poetry Canadian 
genius too has not been very fruitful. Perhaps good reasons 
could be adduced for this. The world of contrast and ex- 
travagance does not meet in Canada as it does in the great 
Republic to the south of us. Our life, while not at all mono- 
tonous, is marked by greater evenness, and is not subject to 
the seismic changes, commercial, political, and social, that 
characterize the life of the American people. It is extremes 
and extravagances that form the basis of humor, and no dialect 
can grow where there is not a sharp differentiation of life, 
thought, customs, and manners. 

But it may be truthfully said that the dialect poet has blos- 
somed on American soil. Whether you go to the East or the 
West, the North or the South, you will find him in evidence. 
He is a part of the intellectual furniture of the country, and is 
as fixed and familiar in it as the " Old Arm-Chair." 

I cannot at all agree with a statement made by Douglas 
Sladen, the Australian poet and critic, in the introduction to 
his Younger American Poets^ "that while the Americans are as 
a nation born humorists, they have comparatively few high-class 
humorous writers." How, I ask, would Mr. Sladen classify 
James Russell Lowell, Dudley Warner, Washington Irving, and 
Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes? Perhaps Mr. Sladen's standard of 
high- class humor is English Punch, If so, the Australian lit- 
tirateur is quite right, for the Punch order of humor has not 
yet become an epidemic in America, and we trust its microbes 
will not reach our shores for many years to come. 



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1903.] A Canadian dialect poet, 523 

I have said that dialect poetry has blossomed in America. 
Perhaps indeed it has been outdone under the starry skies of 
the Republic, As a vogue in poetry it has been sometimes 
carried to an extreme, and true poets like James Whitcomb 
Riley have frequently clipped their poetic wings by their en- 
deavor to sing in notes not born of the heart and life of the people* 

No person can study the beginnings of American life with 
its variety and contrasts, its sharply defined characteristics 
racial and geographical, without realizing that from such soil 
and such conditions dialect poetry must as naturally blossom 
as the purple grape from the vine trained by the hand of the 
husbandman. 

So we have had as a logical outcome of these conditions in 
America Irwin Russell, the darky-dialect poet of the South, 
whose " Christmas Night in Quarters '' is a most admirable 
piece of work ; Bret Harte, on the Pacific Coast ; Colonel John 
Hay, of "Pike County Ballads/' Ohio; Whitcomb Riley, of 
Indiana ; Eugene Field, of the Kingdom of Childhood ; Will 
Carleton, of Michigan; James Russell Lowell, of the " Biglow 
Papers " ; Charles Follen Adams ; *' Yawcob Strauss," Charles 
Leland, whose characterizations in German dialect verse are so 
excellent, and Frank Stanton, the Burns of Georgia, 

There is one quarter, one corner of Canada that has yielded 
rich and promising soil for the Canadian dialect poet — Quebec, 
the home of " Bateese," the French-Canadian kabiiant. Nova 
Scotia is differentiated but little from British Columbia, while 
the people of Manitoba are a fac-simile of the people of On- 
tario plus the wider vision and stronger ozone of the Western 
prairie. But Quebec stands alone — unique, the heir in its tra- 
ditions, life, character, and customs of France under the Old 
Monarchy untouched by the torch, tremor or trumpet of the 
French Revolution, and maintaining its supremacy of faith and 
virtue amid every vicissitude of political life and fortune. 

Naturally, French* Canadian life, fashioned for nearly three 
centuries under such conditions and with such environment, 
has produced character individual, indigenous, picturesque. 
Nay more, the descendants of the Norman Touraine and 
Guienne peasants who settled early in the seventeenth century 
in the land discovered and explored by their fellq^. 
men Cartier and Champlain, living for nearly two 
seigniorial relationship to their manorial maste|-fe 
TOI.. Lxxvn. — 34 

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524 A Canadian Dialect Poet. [July, 

the teachings of the church, to the word of the cure^ with the 
fidelity of primitive Christians, could not but evolve a type of 
character not only unique but highly and truly ideal. 

It is with this type of character of the French- Canadian 
habitant that Dr. William Henry Drummond, of Montreal, deals 
in his two admirable volumes of dialect poetry — "The Habi- 
tant" and "Johnnie Courteau." It is not too much to say 
that Dr. Drummond has written himself immortally into these 
French-Canadian poems. 

It requires but little talent to set the foibles of a people to 
metre, but it calls for genius in touch with the lowly and 
divine to gather up the spiritual facts in a people's lives and 
give these facts such artistic setting that both people and poems 
will live. This certainly Dr. Drummond has done. 

The first French-Canadian dialect poem from the pen of 
Dr. Drummond to give promise of and shadow forth the genius 
of its author in this new and chosen field, was ** The Wreck of 
the Julie Plante: A Legend of Lac St. Pierre." The tourist 
will remember the expansion of the St. Lawrence below Mon- 
treal known as Lake St. Peter. This is the scene of this 
ballad-legend so cleverly told in French- Canadian dialect verse 
by Dr. Drummond. A friend of mine once told me that he 
heard the American humorist Bill Nye recite it, down in Ber- 
muda. It has gained favor everywhere — in the lumber shanties 
of Wisconsin and upper Michigan, in the drawing-rooms of 
New Orleans, among the cowboys out on the Western plains, 
and among exclusive clubmen of our metropolitan cities. It 
will be noticed that much of the humor in the poem is derived 
from pitching the story in such a high dramatic key. Never 
did ocean liner go down to her grave amid such foot- lights of 
tragedy as sank the wood scow "Julie Plante" in the historic 
waters of Lac St. Pierre. But we will let the author himself re- 
cite the tale : 

" On wan dark night on Lac St. Pierre, 
De win' she blow, blow, blow. 
An' de crew of de wood scow ' Julie Plante ' 
Got scar't an' run below : 
For de win' she blow lak hurricane, 
Bimeby she blow some more, 
An' de scow bus up on Lac St. Pierre 
Wan arpent from de shore. 



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1903.] A Canadian Dialect Poet. 525 

"De Captinne walk on de fronte deck, 
An* walk de hin' deck too — 
He call de crew from up de hole, 
He call de cook also. 
De cook she's name was Rosie, 
She come from Montreal, 
Was chambre maid on lumber barge, 
On de Grande Lachine Canal. 

"De win' she blow, fom nor'-eas'-wes', — 
De sout' win* she blow too, 
Wen Rosie cry 'Mon chere Captinne, 
Mon cher, w'at I shall do ? ' 
Den de Captinne t'row the big ankerre. 
But still the scow she dreef, 
De crew he can't pass on de shore, 
Becos' he los' hees skeef. 

" De night was dark lak' wan black cat, 
De wave run high an' fas'. 
Wen de Captinne tak' de Rosie girl 
An' tie her to de mas'. 
Den he also tak' de life preserve. 
An' jomp off on de lak'. 
An' say, ' Good-by, ma Rosie dear, 
I go drown for your sak'.' 

*'Nex' morning very early 
'Bout ha'f-pas' two — t'ree — four — 
De Captinne — scow — an' de poor Rosie 
Was corpses on de shore. 
For de win' she blow lak hurricane, 
Bimeby she blow some more. 
An' de scow bus' up on Lac St. Pierre 
Wan arpent fom de shore. 

MORAL. 

"Now all good wood scow sailor man 
Tak' warning by dat storm. 
An' go an' marry some nice French girl 
An' leev on wail beeg farm. 



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526 A Canadian Dialect Poet. [July, 

De win' can blow lak' hurricane, 
An' s'pose she blow some more, 
You can't get drown on Lac St. Pierre. 
So long you stay on shore." 

But to my mind the poem which exhibits Dr. Dnimmond's 
dialect gift at its best is neither "The Wreck of the Julie 
Plante," " De Papineau Gun," nor " How Bateese Came Home." 
It is " Le Vieux Temps," which as a piece of French- Canadian 
characterization gives a truer, deeper, juster, and more 
sympathetic insight into the very spirit and life of the French- 
Canadian habitant than anything* that has yet been done in 
either verse or fiction. The great value attaching to Dr. 
Drummond's French-Canadian characterization is that it is not 
overdrawn. Truth is the basis of all his idealization. This 
gifted writer has gone among the peasantry of Quebec with an 
honest, open, and sympathetic mind ready to find the fragrance 
of virtue wherever the flower grew. He sees all things with a 
spiritual, not an intellectual eye, and so his judgments have 
about them something of the accuracy of heaven. We can 
never justly judge our fellow- man while our point of view re- 
mains earthy of the earth. 

Next to " Le Vieux Temps " I should be inclined to rank 
"Pelang" as Dr. Drummond's finest French- Canadian dialect 
poem. I think this is the highest poetic conception to be found 
in either of his volumes, and is worked out n^ost artistically. 
It is full of delicate imagery, as where he describes the night 
before the great snow-storm has enveloped Marie's lover on the 
Grande Montagne : 

" I open de door, an' pass outside 
For see mese'f how de night is look, 
An' de star is commence for go couch^, 
De mountain also is put on his tuque." 

And surely, too, there is something touching and tender in 
these lines: 

" An' I t'ink I hear de leetle bird say, 
* Wait till de snow is geev up its dead ; 
Wait till I go, an' de robin come. 
An' den you will fin' hees cole, cole bed.' " 



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1903.] A Canadian Dialect Poet- 527 

Dr. Drummond has a great command of pathos. Nor is it a 
maudlin pathos. He touches the minor chord of life with great 
surety and deftness and passes from humor to pathos, and 
from pathos to humor, with that ease of transition which is the 
especial gift of the Celt. 

It is no small testimony — no small tribute to the truth of 
Dr. Drummond's work that Dr. Louis Frechette, the French- 
Canadian Poet Laureate, should have contributed an introduc- 
tion to his first volume, "The Habitant." 

Speaking of how true and just Dr. Drummond has been in 
his French-Canadian characterization. Dr. Frechette in his intro- 
duction says: 

** Dans son etude des Canadiens-frangais M. Drummond a 
trouv^ le moyen d'^viter un ^cueil qui aurait sembl^ inevitable 
pour tout autre que pour lui. II est rest^ vrai sans tomber 
dans la vulgarite et piquant sans verser dans le grotesque. 

'* Qu'il mette en scene les gros fermier fier de son bien ou 
de ses filles a marier le vieux medecin de campagne ne compt- 
ant plus ses ^tats de service, le jeune amoureux qui reve au 
clair de la lune, le vieillard qui repas^e en sa memoire la longue 
suit de jours r^volus le conteur de l^gendes, I'aventurien des 
'pays d'en haut' et meme le Canadien exile — le Canadien 
errant^ comme dit la chanson populaire— qui croit toujours 
entendre r^sonner a son oreille le vague tentement des cloches 
de son village; que le r^cit soit plaisant on pathetique, jamais 
la note ne sonne faux, jamais la bizarrerie ne deg^n^re en 
pu^rilite burlesque.*' 

It is said that art is born of the intellect and humor of the 
spirit. Humor, too, is generally unconscious, and consists fre- 
quently in a situation. Dr. Drummond shows a fine sense of 
humor in his French-Canadian dialect work. It is not coarse 
and vulgar buffoonry that he depicts when he gives us such 
poems as " How Bateese Came Home," " De Stove Pipe Hole," 
"M'sieu Smit,'" and "The National Policy." 

" How Bateese Came Home " is certainly true to the life, as 
any one knows who has watched the evolution of a young 
French- Canadian habitant from the time he has left his father's 
farm on the banks of the St. Maurice to the time when he 
has reached the full stature of his ambition after a sojourn of 
some five years under New England skies. 

Whether Dr. Drummond has reached a higher level of poetic 



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528 A Canadian Dialect Poet. [July, 

work in his second volume " Johnnie Gourteau " than in his 
first essay of French-Canadian characterization in "The Habi- 
tant," may be questioned by critics. When the first volume 
appeared the field of French- Canadian characterization was com- 
paratively new. It is true something had been done in fiction 
by Sir Gilbert Parker and E. W. Thomson, but it remained for 
the poet to give concrete setting to the inner life, character, 
hopes, joys, as well as daily dreams and visions, of the French- 
Canadian habitant. 

There is one poem in Dr. Drummond's second volume, 
" Johnnie Courteau," which to me at least is worthy of disput- 
ing for the first place among the productions of this gifted 
writer. It is true that the poem is largely a piece of individual 
characterization. Unlike " Le Vieux Temps," which as a story 
touches French- Canadian life on many sides. "The Cure of 
Calumette" is the delineation of a single character — the good 
cur^ "Fader O'Hara" of Calumette. 

That the reader may the better appreciate the rare genius 
of its author I give this poem in full. 

THE CUR£ of calumette. 

Dere 's no voyageur on de reever never run hees canoe d'ecorcc 
T'roo de roar an' de rush of de rapids, w'ere it jump lak a beeg 

w'ite horse, 
Dere's no hunter man on de prairie, never wear w'at you call 

racquette. 
Can beat leetle Fader O'Hara, de Cur^ of Calumette. 

Hees fader is full-blooded Irish, an' hees moder is pure Cana- 

yenne. 
Not ofTen dat stock go togedder, but she 's fine combination 

ma frien'. 
For de Irish he 's full of de devil, an' de French dey got savoir 

faire, 
Dat's mak it de very good balance an' tak' you mos' ev'ry- 

w'ere. 

But dere 's wan t'ing de Cur^ won't stan' it: mak' fun on de 

Irlandais, 
An' of course on de French we say not'ing, cos de parish she 's 

all Canayen, 



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1903.] A Canadian Dialect Poet. 529 

Den you see on account of de moder, he can't spik hese'f very 

mache, 
So de ole joke she 's all out of fashion, an' wan of dem t'ing 

we don't touch. 

Wall ! wan of dat kin' is de Cure ; but w'en he be comin' our place 
De peop' on de parish all w'isper " How young he was look 

on hees face; 
Too bad if de wedder she keel heem de firse tarn he got leetle 

wet, 
An' de Bishop might sen' beeger Cur^, for it ^s purty tough 

place Calumette ! " 

Ha ! ha ! how I wish I was dere, me, w'en he go on de mis- 
sion call 

On de Shaintee Camp way up de reever, drivin' his own cariole ; 

An' he meet blaggar' feller been drinkin', jus' enough mak' 
heem ack lak fou, 

Joe Vadeboncoeur, dey was call heem, an' he 's purty beeg fel- 
ler too ! 

Mebbe Joe he don't know it 's de Cur^, so he 's hollerin', " Get 

out de way, 
If you don't geev me whole of de roadside, sapree ! you go off 

on de sleigh." 
But de Cure he never say not'ing, jus' poule on de line leetle bit, 
An' w'en Joe try for kip heem hees promise, hees nose it get 

badly hit. 

Maudit ! he was strong leetle Cur^, an' he go for Jo-zeph en masse. 
An' w'en he is mak' it de finish, poor Joe is n't feel it firse class ; 
So nex' taiii de Cure he 's goin' for visit de Shaintee encore 
Of course he was mak' beeges' mission never see on dat place 
before. 

An' he know more I 'm sure dan de lawyer, an* dere 's many 
poor habitant 

Is glad for see Fader O'Hara, an' ax w'at he t'ink of de law 

W'en dey get leetle troub' wit each oder an' don't know de 
best t'ing to do, 

Dat 's makin' dem save plaintee monee an' kip de good neigh- 
bor too. 



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S30 A Canadian Dialect Poet. [July, 

But w'en we fin' out how he paddle till canoe she was nearly fly, 
An* travel racquette on de winter w'en snow-dreef is pilin' up 

high, 
For visit some poor man or woman dat 's waitin' de message of 

peace. 
An* get dem prepare for de journey, we 're proud on de leetle 

pries' ! 

Oh ! many dark night w'en de chil'ren is put away safe on de bed, 
An' mese'f an' ma femme mebbe settin' an' watchin' de small 

curly head, 
We hear somet'ing else dan de roar of de tonder, de win*, an' 

de rain ; 
So we 're bote passin' on de doorway, an' lissen an' lissen again. 

An' it 's lonesome for see de beeg cloud sweepin* across de sky, 
An' lonesome for hear de win' cryin' lak somebody's goin* to die, 
But de soun' away down de valley, creepin' aroun' de hill, 
All de tarn gettin' closer, closer, dat's de soun' mak de heart 
stand still ! 

It's de bell of de leetle Cur^ de music of deat* we hear. 
Along on de black road ringin', an' soon it was comin' near; 
Wan minute de face of de Cur^ we see by de lantern light. 
An' he's gone from us jus' lak a shadder, into de stormy night. 

An' de buggy rush down on de hillside an' over de bridge 

below. 
Were creek run so high on <le spring-tam w'en mountain t'row 

off de snow. 
An' so long as we hear heem goin', we kneel on de f oor an' 

pray 
Dat God will look affer de Cure, an' de poor soul dat's passen 
away. 

I dunno if he need our prayer, but we geev' it heem jus' de 

sam', 
For w'en a man's doin' hees duty lak de Cur^ do all de tam, 
Never min' all de t'ing may happen, no matter he's riche or 

poor, 
Le bon Dieu was up on de heaven, will look out for dat man 

I'm sure. 



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1903] 



A Canadian dialect Poet. 



531 



I'm only poor habitant farmer, an' mebbe know not'ing at all, 
But dere's wan t'ing I'm always wishin', an' dat's w'en I get de 

call 
For travel de far-away journey ev'ry wan on de worl' must go, 
He*ll be wit' me, de leetle Cur6, 'fore I'm leffin dis place below. 

For I know I'll be feel more easy if he's sittin' dere by de bed. 
An' he'll geev me de good-by message an' place hees han' on 

ma head, 
Den I'll hoi', if he'll only let me, dat han' till de las', las' breat' 
An' bless little Fader O'Hara, de Cur^ of Calumette." 

French-Canadian life and character are full of beauty and 
truth. It has blossom and fruit of rare fragrance and flavor. 
Its covenant and kinship are closer to heaven than earth. Dr. 
Drummond has discovered both blossom and fruit. Nor has he 
failed to build into his work the larger life of the French- Cana- 
dian habitant — his loyalty to his church, his simplicity of faith, 
his devotion, his goodness, and his love. 




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<^ IP? IDiews anb IReviews, <i ^ 



1.— Many minds have puzzled over the problem of how 
best to present the Psalms to the people. One must needs 
have his spiritual taste rather well developed before being able 
to catch the true savor of these delicious divine poems ; and 
what is more difficult, one must often be not a little skilled in 
exegesis in order to be able to understand even their literal 
meaning. It is not strange, then, that for immense numbers 
of the people the psalms have never yielded up the consola- 
tion, the joy and the strengfth, that is in them. The latest 
attempt to remove the impediments .in the way of popular ap- 
preciation of these wonderful divine poems is an entirely worthy 
one. Bishop Bagshawe * has transcribed the whole psalter into 
verse, endeavoring not only to add to the reading of it the 
charm that comes from rhythm, but, incidentally, to simplify 
and interpret the meaning of the multitude of its dubious or 
difficult passages. He has achieved a notable success. His 
verses run smoothly and gracefully ; they have the quality of 
being memorizable, and they are not devoid in places of real 
power and beauty. The book — it is a neat, handy volume — 
will doubtless be acceptable to many of the devout and en- 
lightened laity, and not a few priests will find in it a helpful 
interpreter of the psalms of the divine office. 

2. — Mr. Hutton in his studies of the saints has offered us 
a bookf in many ways more than ordinarily attractive and 
thoughtful, and yet at times also contradictory and enigmatical. 
He chose for his studies those saints who have a peculiarly hu- 
man interest either because their life was epoch-making in the 
world's history or because they appealed to the commoner and 
more general feelings of mankind. The Introduction deals rather 
with the marvellous in saintly lives; the Conclusion with the 
value of their example. The subjects, of whom the sketches 
are very short, are : St. Augustine, St. Benedict, St. Bernard, 
St. Dominic, St. Francis, Blessed Angela of Foligno, St 
Catherine of Siena, St. Catherine Adorni, St. Ignatius Loyola, 
St. Teresa, St. John of the Cross, and St. Rose of Lima. 

* The Psalms amd Canticles in En^ish Verse. By Right Rev. Bishop Bagshawe. St 
Louis: B. Herder. 

t Studies in the Lives of the Saints. By Edward Hutton. New York : E. P. Dutton & Co. 



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1903.] V/EIVS AND REVIEWS. 533 

Mr. Hutton recognizes much of the heroism, the self-sacrifice, 
the worth, and the charm of sanctity evidenced in the lives 
of these holy ones ; he seems at times to be fairly enraptured 
by their example and adorns their virtues with wreaths of deli- 
cate, flowery language that in turn delight the reader. Yet 
while they are attractive, they arc also repulsive; while their 
experiences are real, they are unintelligfible ; while they live in 
the world, help and succor it, they hate the world; while they 
are to be praised for their detestation of sin, yet have they 
many self-deceptions; while their supernatural following of the 
Divine One begets admiration, still it is rather their delightful 
humanity that appeals to us. 

Mr. Hutton gives to the Benedictines the credit for Euro- 
pean civilization. Thus does he write of their great founder: 
•' His idea of interior solitude as more important . even than ex- 
terior solitude has really conquered and transformed the world ; 
the silence of the soul, all its faculties and delicate operations 
hushed and waiting on God, contemplating His Passion, His 
Death, while the body is busy with other work of His too in 
the fields and the forests." 

So we might quote other complimentary and appreciative 
passages. But Mr. Hutton's fault is that he has not studied 
deeply of those of whom he would write. "Mysticism," he 
says, " is really not a beautiful thing at all, in that almost its 
first requirement is a denial of life, a dislike and contempt for 
the beauty of the world " ; yet the lode-star of the saints was 
the thirst for life. "They were entirely without humor," he 
writes, forgetting St. Bernardino, St. Philip Neri, and St 
Teresa. And it is certainly queer for one who will spend his 
time writing enthusiastically of the saints to say "that one is 
not to be interrupted by any immortal business, since in a 
world that will soon forget us mortality is so sweet." 

Yet Mr. Hutton with most praiseworthy humility adds : " I 
know my feebleness; my language is that of the world and 
not that of the angels ; alas ! my thoughts are ever stained 
with the world's penury. So do not look on these my figures ; 
I have but drawn them from the waist down, the shoulders and 
the head were beyond my sight." Even his short insight into 
the beauty of their holiness has made him desire to grasp some- 
thing which he cannot. Perhaps further reading, such as that 
of Joli's Psychology of the Saints^ will give him 3uch knowledge 



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534 V/Eivs AND Reviews. [July, 

that he may truly " fall in love with Life " — the enduring life 
that saints alone possess. 

Mr. Hutton, apart from his conclusions, has given us keen, 
instructive, beautiful sketches of the witnesses of God. And 
let us add his last conclusion : " Ah, I am wrong. The saints 
are right It is necessary to give up the world, to throw life 
from us, and to occupy ourselves with that God who is really 
approached only through death. Yes, they were right." 

3 — ^The fifth and sixth volumes * of the English translation 
of Janssen's History of the German People at the Close of the 
Middle Ages have just appeared. We trust there is no need 
of informing our readers of the value of this monumental work. 
Dr. Janssen is one of the very greatest historians of the nine- 
teenth century, and his life-work will hold an honorable place 
in historical literature for ever. It is a great piece of critical 
research and a great defence of Catholicity. We deem it im- 
perative that every parish or society library should possess 
either the original German or this translation, now almost com- 
plete. Every priest too and educated layman ought to own 
this great production, and should feel glad to make whatever 
sacrifices may be necessary to enable them to procure it. 

These two volumes are occupied with some of the most in- 
teresting and important events of the Lutheran revolt — the 
origin of territorial churches and how the secular princes made 
use of the new religion for ambitious and tyrannical ends; the 
Diets of Augsburg and Spires, with their consequences for the 
secularization of ecclesiastical holdings and the plunder of 
church possessions; Zwinglianism, with the turbulent disorder 
that everywhere accompanied it ; the Anabaptist insanity in 
Switzerland and the Tyrol ; the Turkish invasion and its effect 
on the church history of the West; the League of Smalcald, 
and the foreign alliances of German princes ; Philip of Hesse's 
and Henry of Saxony's proscription of the Catholic faith ; the 
bigamy of the Landgrave Philip, with all its civil and religfious 
consequences ; the relations of the emperor with the Pope ; 
Luther's last writings, his deeds, death, and character; the 
betrayal of the Empire by the Elector Maurice ; and finally the 
religious peace of Augsburg in 1555. These topics are the 

• The History of the German People at the Close of the Middle Ages, By Johannes Janssen. 
Translated fiom the German by A. M. Christie. St. Louis : B. Herder. 



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1903.] Views and Reviews. 535 

merest indication of the treasury of history contained in the 
two stately volumes. Besides the chapter headings which we 
have set down, one of the most valuable features of this portion 
of Dr. Janssen's work consists in the minute account given of 
the religious and moral condition of the people in the early 
years of the Reformation. This makes a sad record and a 
stern indictment of the leaders of the reformed gospel. What 
with pillage, and drunkenness, and broken vows and impiety, 
Luther and Melanchthon themselves cry out that the world is 
rotten, and that their new creed has made mankind worse than 
ever it was before. Why these two coryphcei of the revolt 
should be astonished on this head is hard indeed to see; for 
Luther allowed to that debauched monster Philip of Hesse per- 
mission to marry while his lawful wife still lived, and Philip in 
token of gratitude sent a cartload of wine to Dr. Martin, who 
thankfully returned his acknowledgments. And as for the 
"meek Melanchthon," he honored with his presence the sacri- 
legious ceremony of the second marriage, which, by the way, 
was performed by a worthy wight who gave unto Philip, his 
child in the Lord, the right good pastoral example of having 
three Hving wives himself. It is, then, no recondite matter to 
seek out the causes of popular immorality with such goings 
on among the elect of the elect. Listen to Dr. Martin himself 
on the results of his great reform : " This teaching ought 
to be heard and received with great joy, and it ought to make 
people better and more pious. But, alas ! it is just the other 
way, and the more this doctrine is preached, the more wicked 
the world becomes; it is all damnable devil's work; we see 
people everywhere nowadays growing more covetous, more piti- 
less, more dissolute, more wicked and licentious than ever before 
under the rule of the Papacy." 

But there would be no end of quoting if once we began to 
write down all the good things in Dr. Janssen. We heartily 
recommend the work, and sympathize with all those who will 
be unable to read it. 

4. — ^This new hand-book* to the catechism fqr''^the use of 
teachers ought to be of valuable assistance iri the Sunday- 
school. This first volume deals with the Apostles' Creed, giv- 

• Teachers* Hand-book to the Catechism. By Rev. A. Urban. Vol. i. With over 
3,500 questions and answeis. New York : Joseph F. Wagner. 



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536 VIEWS AND Reviews, [July, 

ing very full explanations of each article, and adding to every 
lesson a list of minute and searching questions. Undoubtedly 
the ordinary catechism-teacher will be vastly better prepared 
for the great work of instructing, after mastering a book like 
this. In expositions of this nature we always look eagerly to 
see how the author has dealt with earlier Old Testament his- 
tory, for just there is the most vexing of problems not less 
for the university chair than for the benches of the Sunday- 
school. Father Urban allows us to understand the "days" of 
Genesis as " periods " indefinitely long ; but as for the rest he 
is quite a literalist. To what an extent catechetical expositors 
ought to extend the freedom of interpretation which many of 
them apply to the ** days " of creation, we make no pretence 
of determining. But it remains a very troublesome question 
indeed. 

6. — It is scarcely too broad a statement to say that no 
saint has left us a more complete analysis of her own interior 
life than. St Teresa.* Even St. Augustine does not equal her 
in the close analysis of God's personal and supernatural deal- 
ings with the soul. Her inner, and even her outer life, she 
herself has told better than any one else can hope to do. And 
what gives a special charm and value to M. Joli's life of St. 
Teresa — which has just been translated into English — is that he 
lets the saint herself speak to us in her own words. In this 
life we see St Teresa as she actually lived and labored in six- 
teenth century Spain. In fact, the chief value of this whole 
series of biographies lies in the fact that they set before us 
saints as they really were — not as a pious person might con- 
ceive them to be, or represent them to others for the sake of 
edification. To many it will be a source of consolation to read 
of one who, while a saint, did not cease to be a woman. The 
older style of writing the lives of the saints had much to 
recommend it, but to many ordinary readers there was too 
little of a common element between themselves and the saint to 
make them think of imitation as anything more than a pious 
dream. 

From a psychological point of view the most interesting 
chapters in the work are those entitled "Supernatural Gifts" 

• Saimt Teresa, By Henri Joli. Translated by Emily M. Waller. Lxjndon : Duckworth 
& Co. ; New York : Benziger Brothers. 



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1903.] Views and Reviews. 537 

and "The Understanding of the Gifts." When one hears of a 
person having visions, the first question that arises in the mind 
is: Did that person take care to investigate the possibility 
of the so-called vision being a mere hallucination, or a lively 
working of the imagination? From St. Teresa's own words M. 
Joli has made it abundantly evident that she did scrutinize 
most carefully in order to detect any natural hallucination or 
diabolical delusion. But in view of the objections which were 
raised not long ago by Father Hahn, S.J. (whose work is now 
on the Index), to the supernatural character of Sti Teresa's 
visions, it would have been well for M. Joli to enter more fully 
than he has done into the possibility of explaining the wonder- 
ful phenomena of St. Teresa's life on the ground that she was 
an hysteric. 

The chapter on ■ ' Friendships and Oppositions " shows bet- 
ter than any other the human side of the saint. At the same 
time it makes very clear how a one-sided view of the super- 
natural life is capable of doing great harm. To proceed upon 
the general principle that all souls are to be restricted to one 
set mode of mental prayer is a method which will do harm — 
not only to such rare and chosen souls as St. Teresa, but also 
to a number of persons to whom God vouchsafes some little 
touches of true contemplation. 

In this volume the Catholic public is indebted to M. Joli 
for a very valuable addition to the literature of the saints. 

6. — There are two good points about a new life of St. 
Rita of Cascia.* One is, the book tries somewhat to give us a 
glimpse of the general history of the time ; the other, which is 
good in the sense of merciful, is that the production is not long. 
We have not been able ourselves to finish reading it entirely, 
but nevertheless it is some comfort to know that it spins itself 
to an end in two hundred and seventy* two short pages. But 
within that compass there are enough preposterous atiracles, and 
enough ponderous observations meant for edification, to foster 
superstition for a century,, and to repel intelligent people from 
Italian hagiograpby for ever. Surely St Rita's life of sacrifice 
and sanctity merits a commendable history. When will it be 
understood that this sort of thing is a podtive hindrance to con- 

*Life of St. SOU of C4tscia. From the Italian. By V«ry Rev. RichArd C<mBoUy, O.9.A., 
D.D. New York : Benziger Brothers. 



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538 V/EIVS AND REVIEWS. [July, 

versions, and a positive elixir vita for degraded spirituality ? 
When is there going to be a concerted Catholic protest against 
myth, legend, and general stupidity paraded before modem 
minds as the highest expression of Catholicity ? At any rate, 
here is our protest, and on every similar provocation we shall 
repeat it. Better no saints' lives at all, than that they should 
do injustice to the saints and be germ-carriers of superstition. 

7. — To write worthily a book upon the friendships of our 
Saviour is possible only to one who knows profoundly the inner 
life of Christ, who has a devotional instinct that never swerves 
from sacred good sense, who possesses a heart that is always 
tender, an imagination that is never dull, and a pen that can 
put music into prose. It is the very holiest of subjects. It 
aims at admitting us to the hidden springs, to the deepest feel- 
ings, and to the dearest secrets of the Heart of the Word made 
flesh. Jesus had friends ! Why, merely to say the words brings 
the all- Holy One nearer to our human hearts that have ached 
for friendship, and lets us see in a wonderfully vivid light how 
genuinely and truly He belongs to us and is our own. Jesus 
had friends ! And straightway we live in olden Palestine, and 
from afar cast our wistful looks at Lazarus entertaining the 
Lord at Bethany ; or at Peter, upon whose rugged fidelity and 
impulsive devotion the Master smiles with affectionate regard ; 
or at John the virginal, who is permitted many an hour of in- 
effable intimacy ; or at Magdalen who, like thousands of wan- 
derers since, learned to love purely by repenting bitterly. 
Divinely beautiful is such a theme, and alas ! that divinely 
beautiful things can be well treated by so few. Father Faber, 
we are of opinion, is almost the only modern spiritual writer 
who could have dealt acceptably with such a subject as the 
friendships of the Saviour. Father Ollivier's attempt • is honest, 
thorough, and suggestive of much that is helpful, but remarka- 
bly successful we scarcely dare to call it. Our Lord is not 
sufficiently the heart and soul of the book. Attention is dis- 
tracted from Him by learned quotations, topographical detail, 
and polemical preoccupation. The author seems more ready to 
run after an apocryphal story than to analyze the glories of 
the gospel. And finally, there is not enough of the heart in a 

• TJU Friendships of Jesus. By the Rev. M. J. Ollivier. O.P. From the French by M. C. 
Keogh. With a Preface by Rev. Michael M. O'Kane. O.P. St. Louis : B. Herder. 



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1903.] ViMivs AND Reviews, 539 

book that ought to be full of it. Still, Father Ollivier has done 
well in calling our attention to this beautiful side of' the Re- 
deemer's life, and we would be far from denying the merits in 
his treatment of it. The book will be useful in counteracting 
that pernicious teaching not altogether uncommon in spiritual 
books, that it is not consistent with perfection to have friends, 
and that every aspiration of one's human heart is mischievous 
and to be repressed. The all- Holy One sustained His heart 
with friendship, and to pattern our affections upon His is not 
to incur a peril, but to enjoy a grace. 

8* — It would almost seem as if a prevailing tendency, which 
has voiced itself in the cry. Back to Sources ! had filtered down 
into the religious sentiments of the masses and inclined them to 
revert to older, simpler, less artificial modes of spiritual nour- 
ishment. Together with a deepening distaste for the over- 
worked product of refinement run to an extreme, there comes 
to view the tendency to make generous use of such material as 
is afforded by the New Testament, the ancient saints and soli* 
taries, the official liturgy of the church. 

Thus far too little has been done to meet this demand; 
and yet enough is being accomplished to fill the future with 
promise. Among these evidences of betterment we must place 
Father Clifford's new book.* 

Is it not quite evident that nearly every one of us can reap 
great advantage from meditative consideration of the Sunday 
Introits throughout the year? Is it not equally patent that 
our profit will be enormously increased if we have enjoyed the 
privilege of hearing or of reading the thoughts which these 
same verses have suggested to a mind profoundly thoughtful, 
deeply religious, and capable of beautiful self-expression ? 
Since this privilege has been made accessible to all in the book 
before us, we venture to bespeak for it such a welcome that 
will encourage its author to pursue a line of work for which his 
first venture proves him to be so admirably adapted. 

9 — About a year ago, M. I'Abb^ Saudreau — known to our 
readers, we trust, as the author of several spiritual works — con- 
tributed to the pages of the Ami du Clergi a discussion on the 
nature of " the mystical state." The book now before us f is 

♦ Iniroibo : A Series of Detached Readings on the Entrance Versicles of the Ecclesiasticai 
Year. By the Rev. Cornelius Clifford. New York : The Cathedral Library Association. 

*L'£tat Mystique: La Nature, Les Phases. Par TAbW A. Saudreau. Paris: Librairie 
Vic et Amat. 

VOL. LXXVII. — 35 

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S40 V/EIVS AND REVIEWS. [July, 

the ampler development of the id^as at that time set forth, 
and goes into explanations and proofs at more length than the 
pages of a periodical could allow. 

The main point of the abba's contention is that mystical 
states of prayer involve always a double element — a lofty knowl- 
edge and an intense love of God — beyond the grasp of human 
nature's unaided efforts. This is in opposition to all who have 
tried to maintain that the will alone, and not the intelligence, 
is active in the state described. Our author is concerned, 
moreover, to show that certain characteristics, joy, consolation, 
experimental sense of God's presence — much insisted on by 
certain writers — are not necessary elements of mystical prayer. 
A further point emphasized is that contemplation should not be 
classified with visions and oppositions among the extraordinary 
spiritual phenomena, but that it is a grace which may legiti- 
mately be desired and prayed for by earnest souls. 

The author supports his position by numerous references to 
the approved teachers of mystical theology, with whom he 
shows himself to be extremely familiar. The general result of 
his labor is to expose and justify this sublime ideal which has 
been the inspiration of the Christian mystics from time im- 
memorial ; and likewise to encourage souls to aspire after this 
perfection as something which is quite within the limits of 
God's ordinary providence. Books like the one before us are, 
therefore, admirably adapted to raise the general level of devo- 
tion, and to secure proper appreciation for spiritual teachings 
too little known and too little extolled during the last few cen- 
turies of our history. 

10. — In Father Schneider's treatise on the spiritual life* 
there is much that is stimulating and suggestive. There is an 
earnest tone about the book that will rouse a serious reader out 
of letharg^r and laziness. There is an easy method running 
through it also which aids the memory to retain the important 
things. And, finally, there is an absolute adhesion to Ignatian 
ideas, which of course makes for temperateness, safeness, and 
steadiness. But with one or two features we must declare our 
lack of sympathy. Examination of conscience is an indispensa- 
ble exercise in a devout life, as everybody acknowledges, and 
to insist upon a careful performance of such an exercise is quite 

• Helps to a Spiritual Life. For Religious and for all Persons in the World who desire to 
Serve God Fervently. From the German of Rev. Joseph Schneider, S.J. With additions by 
Rev. Ferreol Girardey, C.SS.R. New York : Benziger Brothers. 



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1903.] VIEIVS AND REVIEIVS. 54 1 

within the province of a treatise like the one before us. But 
when the thing goes to the extent of providing one's self with 
a diagram so constructed as to leave less space for the sum 
total of Friday's examen than for Monday's, inasmuch as we 
ought to have less faults to record as the week wears on, this 
in our judgment is a manifestation of that common spiritual 
disease of paying more attention to conscience- microscopy than 
to affective and effective love of God, and is a method of proce- 
dure most cunningly apt for the production and perpetuation 
of scruples. Indeed, in this entire book there is too much of 
the temper of a taskmaster in speaking of God, and too much 
of the temper of a timid slave in speaking of the soul. " Have 
I not done this wrong thing?" and "Why did I not do better 
this other good thing ? " are expressions that outnumber twenty 
to one aspirations after righteousness and union with God. 

Furthermore, the treatment of prayer is seriously defective. 
Obviously this is the most important of all the subjects con- 
sidered in a spiritual book, and failure here is vital failure. 
Why does the book in discoursing upon mental prayer take no 
account of that prayer which is beyond and greater than medi- 
tation, which is the old monastic prayer, practised by genera- 
tions of saints and formulated in scores of books before any set 
and rigid exercises were ever known ? We esteem it nothing 
short of a disaster that the grand old Benedictine and Carme- 
lite conception of prayer has been almost entirely superseded 
by an essentially lower type, and that to-day it is held by many, 
who do not shrink from spiritual direction, to be fanatical or 
presumptuous to read St. Teresa, Dom Hilton, Father Baken 
or even St. Francis de Sales* treatise on the love of God. A 
spiritual book which takes no account whatever of the prayer 
of contemplation in any of its various forms, which does not 
lead a soul higher than the condition of dependence upon a set 
formulae, is an essentially deficient production upon which the 
old monastic masters of the soul would look with disapproval. 
Back to these masters, is our exhortation to the devout. Back 
to the Carthusian, Cistercian, Carmelite, and Benedictine schools ! 
There the freedom of the Holy Spirit is a leading principle of 
direction, and a life of contemplative union with the Most High 
is the simple purpose of every precept. 

11, — Dean Kelly has given us a good strong book on the 

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542 Views and Reviews. [July, 

mystery of the Holy Eucharist* It is a doctrinal and contro- 
versial work which considers the Scriptural and the historical 
proofs of the Real Presence both as Sacrament and as Sacrifice. 
It is simple and direct in style, accurate in exposition, and 
fairly abundant in argumentative resources. It ought to accom- 
plish great good. We regret that the very important point of 
Christ's sacramental bodily Presence being not in a natural but 
in a spiritual and glorified manner, was not developed at a little 
greater length. 

12, — Catholic philosophy has not done justice to itself in the 
matter of its own history. In fact, it might be said the Neo- 
Scholastics have left the entire history of philosophy to writers 
of other schools. Stockle is the only brilliant exception to 
this general statement. And perhaps Dr. Turner will be 
another. His present workf does not pretend to be a piece of 
research, but merely a compilation which will give to Scholas- 
ticism a fair treatment and its due share in the history of 
philosophy. Dr. Turner may without fear challenge compari- 
son of his work with those of similar extent, written by authors 
of repute, such as Weber, Rogers, etc. The first part of his 
work is devoted to Ancient Philosophy, in which is included 
a short sketch of Oriental Philosophy. The second part deals 
with the Philosophy of the Christian Era — Patristic and Scho- 
lastic Philosophy. About one- third of the entire work is de- 
voted to this part. The History of Scholastic Philosophy is 
the chief feature of this work and gives it a raison d'etre ; for 
it is the first time that the task has been systematically under- 
taken by an English author in sympathy with scholasticism. 
The third part is devoted to the History of Modern Philosophy. 
The valuable features of this part are the prominence given to 
American Philosophy and the account of the Neo-Scholastic 
movement. 

The author is to be congratulated on the score that his 
"suggestions -for criticism" are offered under the title "His- 
torical Position." This choice of terminology is not a mere 
cloak for one-sided disquisitions on the " errors of the age," 
but is indicative of the unbiased attitude which is general 
throughout the entire work. 

Perhaps the enumeration of the Blessed Henry Suso and 

• the Veiled Majesty : or, Jesus, in the Eucharist. By the Very Rev. W. J. KeUy. 
New York : Benziger Brothers. 

\ History of Philosophy. By William Turner, S.T.D. Boston and London : Ginn & Co. 



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1903.] Views and Reviews, 543 

Dr. John Tauler among the heterodox mystics is not based 
upon a careful study of their writings. Any suspicious phrases 
in Tauler's writings should be examined in the light of those 
passages which arc to be found in his sermons, criticising most 
severely the quietism and false ideas of poverty so common' in 
his day. It was not the mysticism of Tauler which was at 
fault, but his too tender heart, which made him overstep the 
bounds of canon law. 

But in spite of minor criticisms which might be made, Dr. 
Turner has presented to the public an able work which will 
meet with appreciation both within and outside of the church. 

13. — Father Rickaby has given us a little book * of strong, 
sturdy talks to boys. The range of topics is very wide : Sin, 
Character, Reading, Faith and Reason, Self- Respect, the Con- 
version of England, a defence of St. Aloysius from the charge 
of being a milksop, and a number of others, all timely and 
practical, many that are thoroughly well done, and some that 
are excellent. The book will help every boy that reads it, 
and every pastor or parent that looks into it will get new 
ideas as to that distracting problem — how to lead, guide, and 
sanctify our lads. Here is a sentence or two taken from the 
chapter on the conversion of England, which displays the rare 
good sense characteristic of Father Rickaby : '* The only zeal 
that will tell in England is a conciliatory zeal like that which 
St. Francis of Sales showed; he must be our model. Though 
a man will not go the whole ten miles with us to the foot of 
Peter's chair, we should walk amicably two miles with him, or 
seven miles, in fact as far as he will go; and where we part, 
our parting must be resolute, but regretful and friendly, not 
without hope of rejoining company again." 

14. — Among the most interesting volumes that have come 
to us during the present year is Faith Found in London.-^ 
Dedicated to Cardinal Manning's memory and full of his words 
and his spirit, it is the innocent vehicle of many a suggestion 
which if dressed out as a thesis would dreadfully alarm the 

*Ye are Christ's: Eighty-Four Considerations for Boys. By Joseph Rickaby, S.J. New 
York: Benziger Brothers. 

t Faith Found in London : A Record of Visits to Catholic Churches and Charities. Being 
a Relation of the Strange Adventures of Count Marco Caradovi, who came hither for the 
Coronation of Edward VII., and who in our 3abylon discovered his own Spiritual Crown. 
Together with some very Candid Conversations, wherein are set down Certain Strait Sayings 
of the Eminent Servant of God, Cardinal Manning. New York : Benziger Brothers. 



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544 VIEWS AND REVIEWS. [July, 

upholders of the old order which passeth. Still, the good 
conservatives likewise have their sentiments voiced in this vol- 
ume, they being represented by the interesting Lord Oldways, 
who boasts proudly, '' I am not ashamed of my opinions, 
which were those of my Fathers before the Flood." 

The story is about a young Italian — Catholic by birth and 
name and tradition, rather than by thought, love, and inten- 
tion — who visits London expecting to find a nation grown 
great by the burying of superstitions and the suppressing of 
religious enthusiasm. But fate gives him as host an ardent 
and intelligent Catholic who decides to introduce him to the 
London of Cardinal Manning, takes him to all the great Catho- 
lic temples of worship and charitable institutions, and makes 
him acquainted with various persons, clerical and lay, who 
unite religious fervor with that new and peculiar view of the 
universe which has come to be recognized as a sort of char- 
acteristic of English-speaking people and Catholics. 

The book is full of exquisite things and conveys many a 
lesson to the attentive reader. Lady Coningsby, a Catholic lay- 
woman after a type dear to the cardinal's heart, says and does 
many things which go to show the foreigner a vigor and 
reality and sameness in religion which he had never dreamed 
of before. And at dinner she recites a little poem which it is 
almost worth buying the book in order to read. 

Whoever the writer may be, he should feel it a strict duty 
to give us more books of the same sort. His ideals are in- 
spiring; his wit delicious. He gives a picture of Cardinal 
Manning's ideal London which would arouse the most dis- 
pirited to hope and enthusiasm. He quotes largely from Car- 
dinal Manning, with a warning whenever he uses the Cardinal's 
ipsissima verba — a not unnecessary measure, since among the 
quotations we find such sentences as these : 

"The strengh of the Holy See is to be unarmed" (p. 66). 

" Where is the good of preaching to the people on the 
Immaculate Conception — to people who do not believe in the 
Incarnation ? Or on the church to people who do not believe 
in Christianity ? Surely a procession through the streets would 
do better to sing or to say the Litany of the Holy Name than 
the Litany of Loretto. So, again, to sing English hymns 
through the streets rather than to say the Rosary. Hymns are 
intelligible to all. The Rosary is to non- Catholics not only 



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1903.] V/EIVS AND REVIEWS. 545 

unintelligible, but by its perpetual repetitions a stumbling- 
block" (p. 58). 

" Do they (the pious persons) know that the Jews are tak- 
ing better care of their working girls in the East End than we 
are? What are our people doing? Oh, I forgot: they have 
no time; they are examining their consciences; or the fine 
ladies among them are praying (with dear Mrs. Craven) for 
success in finding a really satisfactory maid/' 

" I believe the hearing and direction of nuns is one of the 
surest means to illuminate and to sanctify the priests of the 
diocese." 

"My flock never let me forget they are my sheep.'* 

" I have long thought with fear that the visible church is 
now as Jerusalem was in the time of Isaias, and when Titus 
was round the walls. The Divine Spirit reigns over the "Ec- 
clesia docens et regens," but the human spirit reigns over 
Christian society. If this were not so. London could never 
be as it is at this day. And how to deal with it? Certainly 
not with the pieties of our Upper Ten Thousand, nor with the 
devotion of the Faubourg St. Germain " (p. 109). 

*' All the great works of charity have had their beginning 
out of the church. For instance, the abolition of the slave 
trade and of slavery, and the persevering protests of the Anti- 
Slavery Society. Not a Catholic name, so far as I know, 
shared in this. The whole Temperance Movement — it was a 
Quaker that made Father Mathew a total abstainer. The Act 
of Parliament to protect animals from cruelty was carried by a 
non-Catholic Irishman. The Anti-vivisection Act also. Both 
are derided, to my knowledge, among Catholics. The acts to 
protect children from cruelty were the work of Dissenters. On 
these societies there is hardly a Catholic name. On the last, 
mine was for long the only one. So, again, the uprising against 
the horrible depravity which destroys young girls — multitudes 
of ours — was literally denounced by Catholics — not one came 
forward. If it was ill done, why did nobody try to mend it ? 
I might go on. There are endless works for the protection of 
shop assistants, overworked railway and train men, women and 
children ground down by sweaters, and driven by starvation 
wage upon the streets. Not one of the works in their behalf 
was started by us, hardly a Catholic name is to be found in 
their reports. Surely we are in the Sacristy" (p. 133). 



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546 Views and Reviews, [July, 

15. — ^While reading the first few chapters of Castle Omeragh,^ 
a love story of Cromwellian days in Ireland, one is apt to feel 
a bit impatient with the labored and unrelieved gloom of the 
opening scenes. That feeling passes rapidly, however, and 
completely, once the author settles down to the telling of his 
story. In it we follow the fortunes of a bashful young man 
who, in spite of many broad hints, cannot get it into his head 
that the girl he loves is bubbling over with readiness to give 
him her hand and heart. Were we to meet such a man in real 
life, it surely would be hard to refrain from putting a pin into 
him to wake him up. The author makes a free use of the 
preternatural, especially in the shape of a glass pyramid — a 
Moorish invention — within which distant scenes are mysteriously 
pictured at dead of night. While not inclined to find fault with 
the author for employing such devices in order to make his 
story interesting, we think it would have been better had he 
guarded against making Father Mahony a believer in the 
efficacy of such an instrument. The endurance of trials for 
Jesus Christ very speedily sharpens a man's spiritual vision and 
makes him proof against superstition. All in all the book makes 
pleasant reading. 

16. — Under the somewhat repelling title of Dainty Devils 
there are offered to us many wholesome reflections! on some 
of the grave evils which are commonly believed to be rather 
prevalent among the socially prominent. The character whom 
we know best after reading the book, the one whose musings, 
studies, and judgments about the men, and more especially the 
women, she meets, are clearly and fully set before us, is the 
daughter of a self-exiled German nobleman — a man who is truly 
noble in his purity and strength of character. His only daughter, 
trained by him to love and practise righteousness, meets and 
marries in her New England village home a man of sterling 
traits, wealthy and prominent. After her short, delightful 
journey to Europe there begins for her a season of trial and 
storm. There is no need of giving here more than a bare hint 
of the perplexing experiences through which she went in the 
first year of social life. Forward, prying servants, women 
acquaintances who smoked, drank, gambled, neglected home 
life, and decoyed beardless youths into dishonesty and worse 

■ Castle Omeragh. By J. Frankfort Moore. New York : D. Appleton & Co. 
t Dainty Devils, New York : Wm. H. Young & Co. 



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1903.] V/EIVS AND REVIEWS, 547 

vices — all had a hand in trying her patience and burdening her 
heart. The picture, these outlines of which are sad and wretched, 
is softened by the presence of other characters, both men and 
women, who are quite as virtuous as the others are vicious. 
All in all, the book doubtless gives a fairly accurate insight 
into the life of the class with which it deals. Its greatest 
merit is not in its rousing of interest, nor in its giving pleasure, 
but in its being both instructive and wholesome. 

17, — This book* of discourses on the priesthood is in 
reality taken up with many other topics besides the one indi- 
cated on its title-page. " It would be well if some one had re- 
vised the English and improved the rhetoric before publica- 
tion. The dark hue of pessimism that covers the book as 
with a death-shroud will not, we trust, permaj^^ntly prevent 
Father Madden from seeing occasional glimpses of the sun of 
hope. The editor. Father Girardey, has added certain obser- 
vations on the ecclesiastical vocation and on the celibacy of 
the priesthood. 

18. — One of the romances and one of the tragedies of his- 
tory is the career of the last Stuart pretender to the throne of 
England. "Prince Charlie," as they who loved him and en- 
listed themselves in his futile cause called him, offers in his 
character so much to admire and so much to detest, in his ad- 
ventures so much that is fascinating and in his end so much 
that is mournful, that few historical personages engage our 
sentiments so widely and variously, and perhaps none at all 
stand before the imagination more vivid and picturesque. An- 
drew Lang has just told us the story f of this strange child 
of misfortune. The world knows the tale, but it never grows 
old, and we are glad that a pen like Lang's has dealt with it. 
The Prince's hunted existence in Scotland after the disaster of 
Culloden is very fully described, and his later life on the Con- 
tinent is minutely set before us. The style of the book is 
hardly Lang's best, being a little too annalistic and matter-of- 
fact to suit the romantic subject ; still it is good and eminently 
readable. How Stevenson would have made the narrative 
glow! Mr. Lang dismisses as unworthy of consideration the 

^ Discourses on Priesthood; with Panegyric of St. Patrich, By W. J. Madden. Edited, 
with additions, by Rev. Ferreol Girardey, C.SS.R. St. Louis: B. Herder. 

i Prince Charles Edward Stuart, By Andrew Lang. New York: Longmans, Green 
& Co. 



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548 Views and Reviews. [July* 

story that Prince Charles left any legitimate issue, and • treats 
^s utterly baseless the claims put forward for a supposed 
Stuart heir in the middle of the last century. 

19. — A very beautiful book* comes to us from Longmans 
on the extant busts and statues of Julius Caesar. The author, 
Mr. Scott, has visited nearly all the great museums of Europe 
and America in search of material, and has probably acquired 
more data for his monograph than have ever before been pub- 
lished on this subject. Antiquarians, art-students, and histori- 
ans will find in the book a great deal to interest them. We 
regret to say that the English is in critical need of revision. 
Sentences like the following take from the value of the 
work decidedly : " A man who made so great a mark upon 
ages far remote that the recorded facts of his career still rever- 
berate through the halls of knowledge, and take on greater 
sound and significance the more they are known, is the man 
we may be sure is worth studying." And another specimen : 
" The constant misconception of him which his rivals, and beaten 
enemies, the Senate party in Rome, infused into Roman litera- 
ture, reverberate through the sonorous speeches or the light 
innuendo of the Shaksperian dramatis persona.'* 



THE NEW INTERNATIONAL ENCYCLOPAEDIA.! 

The ninth volume of the International comprises titles from the 
word Hall to the title Infant Phenomenon. There will be 
probably as many volumes more. • As the volumes have come 
to our table, as far as is possible we have looked them through, 
and we marvel at the extent of this monumental work. It 
treats of a wonderful variety of topics, and treats them all in- 
telligently and most of them comprehensively. An encyclo- 
paedia writer needs the faculty of condensation in a marked 
degree. Where it is not the policy of the management to 
assign topics to noted experts or specialists, the writer must 
consult other books of reference, assimilate all the knowledge 
on the topic in question, and present his statement The /»- 
ternational does this in as concise and yet as satisfactory man- 

^ Portraitures of Julius Casar, By Frank J. Scott. New York : Longmans. Green & Co. 

t The New International Encyclopedia, Editors, Daniel Coit Gilman, LL.D.. President 
of Johns Hopkins 1876-1901, President of Carnegie Institution; Harry Thurston Peck, 
Ph.D., L.H.D., Professor in Columbia University; Frank Moore Colby, M. A., late Pro- 
fessor of Economics in the New York University. Vol. ix. New York : Dodd, Mead & Co. 



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1903.] Views and Reviews,, 549 

ner as it seems to be possible, and finally concludes each well- 
chiselled article with an extensive bibliography. As an exam- 
ple of the clearness, conciseness, and comprehensiveness of the 
work done is, among many others, the article on *' Heresy." 
In about a thousand words there is given a remarkably well- 
balanced historical and theological statement of what is com- 
prised within the meaning of the word heresy, with a dozen 
or more cross references and a bibliography of seven works of 
standing. 

In the next article, on " Heretic," however, we do not 
relish the placing of Savonarola in the list of heretics. Sav- 
onarola was granted permission by the Pope to say Mass on 
the day of his execution, and he never asked to be released 
from censures, for he never considered he was under censure. 
He said of himself in his statement : " I have never been dis- 
obedient to the Roman Church, nor to the Pope, nor to any 
of my superiors up to the present hour," and St. Philip Neri, 
who lived amidst the traditions of Rome, had a devotion 
amounting almost to a veneration for him. All this is incon- 
sistent with the fact of his being really a heretic. 

In this volume also are found such up-to-date titles as 
Hecker (though an inaccuracy of date has crept in; Father 
Hecker was received into the church in 1844 and ordained 
five years later), Hefele, Heiss, Hellmuth (1820-1901), Henty 

(1832-1902), Herreshoff (1848 ), Hewit (1820-1897), and 

others equally modern. These biographies of noted contem- 
poraries make the Encyclopaedia valuable as a work of bio- 
graphical reference. We note also that articles pertaining to 
medical science get a very adequate treatment, nor are any of 
the other sciences overlooked. There is an extensive article 
on Home Rule, of 2,000 words; a good One on Homestead 
Laws; on- Homoeopathy ; on the Horse, with illustrations; on 
Humidity, with accurate tables and good maps; on Huxley, 
with a portrait by Legros; on Ignatius Loyola, with a full- 
page picture after a painting by Rubens. These designations 
may give one some idea of the comprehensiveness as well as 
the accuracy of the International, The article on Indulgences 
is of special note. The International has not followed the tra- 
ditional statements of worn-out books of reference, but has 
gone to original sources, and as a consequence presents not 
garbled and inaccurate statements, but the truth. 



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9(9(91 Xtbrat^ XTable. » » » 



The Tablet (2 May): Correspondence on the practice of the 
" Nine Fridays " continued. Father Thurston, S.J., con- 
firms Fr. McNabb's statement as to the very late 
development of this practice among the faithful at large, 
and shows that it is not identified with the organization 
of the Apostleship of Prayer. He takes exception, how- 
ever, to the epithet *' scandalous " as used by Fr. McNabb, 
and promises an article on the whole ■ matter in the June 
number of The Month, C. C. Fernensis fears that the 
printing and circulating of the "Twelfth Promise" with- 
out any explanation is likely to lead to grave abuse of 
the Blessed Sacrament. 

(9 May) : Concerning the genuineness of the " Twelfth 
Promise" Fr. McNabb, O.P., says that Beatification or 
Canonization would not necessarily guarantee the truth of 
every statement of a saint or blessed. He also gives an 
instance where the *' Twelfth Promise " is entirely omitted. 
Evangelist testifies that '* on his own experience and 
that of many others an incalculable amount of good " is 
being done by the practice of the "Nine Fridays." S. 
T. D. writes that Theology can say nothing either for 
or against the truth of the " Twelfth Promise," which he 
says is the only point at issue. 

(16 May): Fr. Thurston, S.J., shows that the "Twelfth 
Promise " was undoubtedly submitted to the Congrega- 
tion of Rites. He says that while reflective and educated 
Catholics would recognize the contingent character of 
the promise, yet he for one should be sorry to see the 
"Twelfth Promise" much insisted upon in an absolutely 
unqualified form. A Graduate of Edinburgh contributes 
an article in favor of vivisection, in which he says its 
value is practically that of modern medical and surgical 
science. 

(23 May): In an article entitled "A Cyprianic Riddle 
and its Solution " Rev. P. St. John, S.J., calls attention 
to some literary research work of Dom Chapman, prov- 
ing that the famous interpolation in St. Cyprian's " De 



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1903.] Library Table. 551 

Unitate" was made by St. Cyprian himself. The writer 
quotes Dr. Harnack as accepting the fact as proven. 
The Roman Correspondent gives a synopsis of the con- 
stitutions and rules of the Biblical commission. 
(30 May): In a leader on "Creative Power" the editor 
reviews some points raised in the controversy over Lord 
Kelvin's recent dictum that modern science proves the 
existence of Creative Power. 

The Month (May) : Fr. Thurston reviews Bcgley's Is it Shake- 
spear? and criticises adversely many of the arguments 
advanced by that writer in favor of the claim for the 
Baconian authorship. Fr. Sydney F. Smith, continuing 
his articles on the dissolution of the Society of Jesus, 
treats of the execution of the brief of suppression and 
discusses some of the complicated questions to which it 
gave rise. 

The Church Quarterly Review (April) : In an article on the 
structure and composition of the Synoptic Gospels the 
attempt is made to show that while there is no proof of 
any written sources behind our Gospel, yet it is possible 
to determine the different sources from which the 
materials were drawn. In the Gospel of St. Matthew, it 
is claimed, three distinct strata of material can be dis- 
tinguished, namely, ".(^) The matter borrowed from St. 
Mark; {b) The matter common to St. Matthew and St. 
Luke, taken possibly from a Greek translation of a col- 
lection of Christ's sayings composed in Aramaic by the 
Apostle Matthew ; {c) The matter peculiar to the Gos- 
pel of St. Matthew." 

£tudes (5 May) : P. Bremond writes a most interesting analysis of 
Huysmann's L'Oblat, saying "how unjust to weigh in the 
traditional balance these pages so glowing with originality 
and possessed of a flavor which our masters the classics 
never dreamed of." The reviewer makes a mild protest 
against some pages "a little hard on the Jesuits," and 
asks: "Is he quite sure that the passion for devotion- 
alities comes from the Jesuits, and that they can be re- 
proached with a milk-and -sugar spirituality?" 
(20 May) : P. Boubee discusses the arguments for the 
Baconian authorship of Shakspere's plays. P. Brucker 
congratulates Mgr. Turinaz on his letter against the pro- 



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552 Library Table. [J«ly» 

posed reorganization of ecclesiastical studies in the 
seminary^ of Le Rochelle, drawing attention to the fact 
that Mgr. Turinaz has reiterated his warning against 
" the abuse made by many innovators of certain unsure 
passages in the Essay on Development written by New- 
man before his conversion." 

Science Catholique (May): Writing on the historical method in 
the study of Scripture, P. Fontaine rejects the plea for 
new departure from customary methods made by P. 
Lemounyer in the, Revue du Clerge Fran fats. Dr. 
Surbled writes to prove that the therapeutic value of 
hypnotism is much less than some have imagined. 

Revue du Monde Invisible (March): Dr. Ignotus presents a 
detailed report of the happenings in a haunted house. 
Abb^ T. relates "a case of complicated diabolical pos- 
session in Auvergne," declaring that he is quite ready to 
accept a better explanation of the facts if it can be found. 
(April): Dom Marechaux assails the positions assumed 
by Dr. Felix Regnault, who, resuming his course at the 
School of Psychology, has published in the Revue de 
VHypnotisme a series of articles which explain the Gospel 
miracles as hypnotic phenomena. F. de Loubens dis- 
cusses the bearing on prophecy of certain attempts to ex- 
plain presentiments and premonitions as due to a magnetic 
influence. 

(May) : Publishes the report of Dr. Berillon (medical 
inspector of public lunatic asylums and editor of the 
Revue de r Hypnotisme) on the pedagogical uses of 
hypnotism, which declares that the hypno-pedagogical 
method must now be considered as truly scientific. 

L*Ame Frangaise (May) : The opening number of a new maga- 
zine, published in the French language, by a Boston firm ; 
it aims at making Americans acquainted with a France 
and a French soul that until now have been hidden under 
deceptive appearances. Among other contributions it 
contains a reprint of the French translation of My New 
Curate, 

Echo Religieux de Belgique (April): Discussing the social ideas 
of Paul Bourget, M. de Froidmont gives as the synthesiz- 
ing idea of his work these words, written in 1889 ^t the 
commencement of the first critical volume : " For my part, 



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1903.] Library Table. 553 

long investigation of the moral maladies of present-day 
France has forced me to recognize in my own turn the 
truth proclaimed by masters of an authority far beyond 
mine, to understand, like Balzac, Le Play, and Taine, 
that for individuals as for society, Christianity is at this 
hour the sole and necessary condition of cure." 

Revue Apologetique (May) : In this new magazine (the successor 
to Echo Religieux) P. Halflants reviews L^Oblat — Huys- 
mann's sequel to En Route-^-zxA says that this story of Dur- 
tal's sojourn at Val-des-Saints is a bold apology for the 
religious, artistic, and scientific influence of the Benedic- 
tines ; fortunately Durtal's " temptations " are no longer 
obtruded offensively on the reader; he seems firm in 
well-doing. 

Dimocratie Chritienne (April): Abb^ Charles Calippe closes, in 
this number, his series of very interesting letters. The 
abb^ believes that, as far as the workingmen in France 
are concerned, he has a solution for the social question ; 
the plan which he advocates, and which he has actually 
tried, is for the priest to go into the factory and to work 
there together with the men ; he says that many become 
socialists because they do not understand the true atti- 
tude of the church toward the workingman. Holzheim 
gives an account of the work being done by the Catholic 
social party to spread the Volksverein throughout Ger- 
many and Poland. 

Annates de Philosophie Chritienne (Feb.) : Apropos of the 
recent publication of a series of apologetic conferences, 
by the Abb^ Charles Denis, the Abb^ Martin com- 
mences an historical examination of the methods em- 
ployed by Christian apologists since the days of St. 
Justin, Martyr. Mgr. Blumpignon contributes a very 
interesting article on the '* Genius and Madness of John 
Jacques Rousseau," making an effectual, though not for- 
mal, apology for the vagaries of that famous unfortu- 
nate, on the ground of his actual insanity. Fr. Hogan's 
Clerical Studies^ translated into French, receives an en- 
thusiastic synopsis and critique at the hands of the 
Abb^ Mano. 

(March) : M. G. Roger Charbonnel presents a group of 
striking apothegms from a posthumous work of Victor 



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554 LIBRARY Table, [July» 

Hugo — Postscriptum de ma Vie, The editor prims a 
correspondence between himself and the Abbe Dabry 
on the question of the actual condition of the clergy in 
France in regard to its present political and religious 
condition. 

(April) : The Abbe Mano having, in the February num- 
ber, expressed the gist of the thoughts of Fr. Hogan's 
£tudes du Clerge^ continues the subject by contributing 
a paper on the " Formation of Priests at the Seminary." 
The Abbe Martin continues his outline of the history 
of Christian apologetic, aiming to make clear, more by 
implicit suggestion than by explicit comparison, the 
similarity between the earliest and the latest objections 
to the faith, and-^likewise implicitly — counselling a re- 
vival of the early methods of Justin, Origen, Tatian, 
et al. The editor expressly invites the readers of the 
Annates to exchange opinions on the best manner of 
dealing with the problems suggested to the intelligent 
laity by the demands of dogma. The controversy is 
opened with a vigorous address of M. G. Dusart to all 
who are interested in the problem proposed. 

Revue du Monde Catholique (15 May): Canon Beaurredon dis- 
cusses the legitimacy of biblical criticism, evidently aim- 
ing at an elementary and popular description of what 
criticism of the Bible is and should be. 

Le Correspondant (10 May): In an admirably clear and inter- 
esting article, " La Faillite de la Greve G^nerale," M. 
Fernand Engerrand describes the complex causes and the 
far-reaching social and political results of strikes local, 
national, and international. M. Pierre de la Gorge in 
his graphic sketch of the days immediately preceding 
the Franco- Prussian war, paints to the life the attitude 
of sovereigns and statesmen on both sides of the Rhine. 
M. Dumand makes an eloquent appeal for the publica- 
tion of the first real history of Joan of Arc, still lying 
in manuscript in the National Library. There are several 
other valuable articles; but, in the face of the present 
crisis, it is particularly good to read of the splendid or- 
ganization and chivalrous devotion of the Associations 
de Jeunes Catholiques. 
(25 May) : M. le Vicomte de Meaux contributes an 



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1903.] Library Table. 555 

article on the "Fall of the Broglie Ministry in 1874," 
calling attention to a striking passage in the " Strenuous 
Life" where President Roosevelt explains the greater 
success of republican government in America than in 
France. Some " Letters and Fragments " of Mgr. Dar- 
boy, hitherto unpublished, are calculated not only to 
throw additional light on the personal character of the 
great archbishop, but also to serve as a timely warning 
to all true lovers of France. Continuing his study of 
the war of 1870, M. Lamy gives a detailed account of 
the heroic defence of Strasbourg, and compares the 
methods of the first Napoleon with those of the Prussian 
generals. Among the other interesting articles is one on 
Victor Hugo and his literary friendships, by M. F. 
Loliee. 

La Quinzaine (16 May): In " Sainte-Beuve et Michiels," con- 
tinued by M. Michaut, there is more than one useful 
maxim, not only for critics in general, but for all those 
who prize the possession of the divine faculty of seeing 
" good in everything." M. Emmanuel des Essarts, how- 
ever, seems to perceive super- excellence where it will 
hardly be allowed to reside by some who, like that gen- 
tleman, are ready to say with Bersot : *' Soyons modestes 
chacun pour nous, ne le soyons pas pour notre nation." 

Razon y Fe (June) : P. Murillo discusses the canons of a new 
exegetical school which maintains that there are no purely 
scientific passages in the Bible so unmistakably formu- 
lated that their meaning is clear without the intervention 
of the church. After quoting from Lomely and Franze- 
lin, he concludes : " It is impossible to abandon or to 
modify the rule of interpretation traditional since St. 
Augustine, according to which, if the Scripture with suf- 
ficient clearness states anything pertaining to the profane 
sciences, these statements must be taken as definitive and 
not only in a provisional and hypothetical sense, so long 
as science does not demonstrate the contrary. 

Rassegna Nazionale (i May): A. Armauni gives an appreciative 
summary of the Vita Intensa of Teodoro Roosevelt, a 
man with whom individual energy is not an end in itself, 
nor a mere instrument of material progress, but a means 
of moral elevation. 

VOL. LXXVII.— 36 



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The most alarming aspect of the Servian 
The Servian atrocities is the easy way in which pardon 
A roci y Yisis been extended to the perpetrators and 

the complacent way in which they have been viewed by the 
press of the world. There must be something wrong with the 
moral sense of a nation when it can witness the deliberate 
murder of its king and queen and their court, even though 
they were by some considered as usurpers/ and see a few hand- 
fuls of sand thrown over the blood that drenched the royal 
apartments, and then go about the ordinary routine of daily 
life as though a commendable deed had been done and not a 
national outrage perpetrated. 

In all reports there does not appear a single protest from 
the teachers of morality who represent eternal justice and who 
should stand for law and order. On the contrary, apparently 
well-founded reports inform us that after the regicide was 
committed the Skupshtina, or national assembly, met, adjourned 
to the cathedral, where a solemn Mass was sung, followed by 
a Te Deum. The Metropolitan addressing the throng, made 
up of civil and military officers in full uniform, congratulated 
the nation on the restoration of the Karageorgevitch dynasty. 
While deploring the necessity for recent events, he thanked 
the army for what it had done and praised its behavior. The 
officers audibly expressed their pleasure at these remarks from 
the prelate. There stands out in this story all the lineaments 
of the time-serving prelate of a National Church. It cannot 
well be otherwise. When a churchman is the creature of the 
state he must serve the state, even to the smothering of his 
principles and the blunting of his moral sensibilities. There is 
no more lamentable spectacle of the decadence that comes over 
a religious body when it is affiliated with the state than that 
which is presented by the Greek Metropolitan of Belgrade in 
his own cathedral condoning the horrid butchery of the reign- 
ing family of Servia. 

The Catholic University at Washington has 

The Scholastio Year just finished a most prosperous scholastic 

at the University. ^^^^ j^ j^ ij^portant that every Catholic 

in America, clerical and lay, should understand the share of 



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1903.] Comment on Current Topics. 557 

the Catholic University in the achievements and in the hopes 
of the Church in the United States. Learning is to dominate, 
ideas are to lead the race in all future history ; and every 
worthy home of scholarship, every fit fostering- place of thought, , 
is to have a greater share in fashioning the destinies of men 
than ever war and conquest had in ages past. The religion of 
the future, like everything else, must be sustained by learning. 
Zeal in these days must lead men to the study as well as to 
the pulpit. Catholicity, if it is to thrive, must possess the 
prestige of deep and varied culture. If it possesses it not, it 
will languish and decay. The University at Washington says 
that the church shall possess it. This noble school has for its 
very reason of existence the pursuit of all departments of 
science, new as well as old, in order that its graduates may 
themselves perceive and declare throughout their lives to others 
that Catholicity not only is not displaced by modern knowl- 
edge, but is supported by it, and is necessary to it. This is 
what the University is and aims at. No other of our higher 
schools is doing or can possibly do its work. We might dis- 
pense with any one or any ten of our academies and colleges, 
and we should still be equipped to meet the deficiency. 
But take away the University, and instantly our hope of 
marching abreast with the highest scholarship of the age is 
vitally weakened if not quite destroyed — for we could not re- 
place the splendid institution which years of toil and enthusi- 
asm, of self-sacrifice and single-minded purpose, of trial and 
misunderstanding, have erected for the glory of God and the 
good of men. 

There is every reason to hope that the University will ful- 
fil its mission. Its brilliant rector, lately appointed by Leo 
XIII., was greeted on the first Commencement-day of his 
regime by the largest graduating class in the .history of the 
institution. He was welcomed by a united, zealous, and dis- 
tinguished faculty; by Paulists, Marists, members of the Holy 
Cross Congregation, Sulpicians, Franciscans, and Dominicans, 
all of whom have established houses of study at the Univer- 
sity, in order to give the great venture their sympathy and 
support, and in order to procure for their young subjects 
its advanced courses, its honors and its degrees. The laity 
too was there, for the University brings priest, religious, 
and layman together within its lecture- halls in the most friend- 



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558 Comment on Current Topics. [July* 

ly, fraternal, and helpful association. Unquestionably this in- 
stitution is the best possession of the church in America. God 
speed it ! is our prayer ; and that the Catholics of this country 
shall not let it fail for Jack of generous means, is our devout- 
est hope. 

"Think strongly enough and you will be 

^Be^^on^^ forced by science to the belief in God"— 
these are the bold and emphatic words of 
the greatest of living scientists, Lord Kelvin. They will hap- 
pily go a long ways towards disabusing many minds of the 
impression that science is opposed to religion. The noted 
physicist makes it a positive ally instead of an enemy, and his 
words will do much to hush the cries of the ignorant atheists 
and sophomoric sciolists. 

The quotation marks something of a change for Lord Kel- 
vin himself. Many years ago he suggested, as a theory, that 
the first living matter had been brought to this earth by some 
comet coming from another world. Of course this only put 
the problem back a little further and made no step towards its 
solution. Now as the result of some thought, he asserts, will 
come necessarily the recognition of God's existence. 

After all, have we not allowed science too much power and 
accredited it with too great authority ? It deals with the 
material. The spiritual and the metaphysical are entirely be- 
yond its range. As Professor Huxley wrote : " Science starts 
with matter and with force; back of these it does not go, 
more than these it does not require. To account for them is 
unscientific, for the simple reason that no such accounting can 
be verified." 

In fact, science must postulate fundamental truths before it 
can make the least progress. And therefore it should acknowl- 
edge its dependence, at least not make itself the judge and 
arbiter of all the great questions that trouble the soul of man. 

To quote Professor Huxley again, it must take for granted 
" the objective existence of a material world, the universality 
of the law of causation," the so-called "laws of nature, by 
which the relation of phenomena is truly defined, is true for 
all time." Hence there is the widest and most important field 
for man which scientists as scientists cannot touch. Every 
theory that science, so called, has put forth to explain life 
without a Creator, including the latest — Haeckel's carbon the- 



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1903.] Comment on Current Topics, 559 

ory — has but proved its utter inability and unfitness to treat 
the problem. We must remember, however, that the Haeckel 
theory has not been received by the scientific world. 

But as every mind is more or less philosophical, and must 
seek out the ultimate causes of things, as it was made for a 
personal union with God, we are glad and thankful for the 
remarks of Lord Kelvin, and we append his exact words, taken 
from the Nineteenth Century^ in which he speaks of the origin 
of life: 

"Just think of a number of atoms falling together of their 
own accord and making a crystal, a sprig of moss, a microbe, 
a living animal. Cicero's expression ' fortuitous concurrence of 
atoms ' is certainly not wholly inappropriate for the growth of 
a crystal. But modern scientific men are in agreement with 
him in condemning it as utterly absurd in respect to the com- 
ing into existence, or the growth, or the continuation of the 
molecular combinations presented in the bodies of living things. 
Here scientific thought is compelled to accept the idea of 
created power. Forty years ago I asked Liebig, walking 
somewhere in the country, if he believed that the grass and 
flowers that we saw around us grew by mere chemical forces. 
He answered, ' No ; no more than I could believe that a book 
of botany describing them could grow by mere chemical forces.' 
Every action of free will is a miracle to physical and chemical 
and mathematical science. 

"I admire the healthy, breezy atmosphere of free thought 
throughout Professor Henslow's lecture. Do not be afraid of 
being free thinkers ! If you think strongly enough you will 
be forced by science to the belief in God, which is the founda- 
tion of all religion. You will find science not antagonistic hut 
helpful to religion." 

The enforcement of the French Associations 
The Persecutions l^w has, in many instances been attended 
m France. , , . ,. j .t_ 

by scenes that m cruelty and pathos savor 

of the tales of the Revolution. It is more evident every day 
that the present ministry is really carrying on a persecution of 
Christians in as far as modern civilization will permit it 

For example, M. Pelletan, the Minister of Marine, ordered 
that every chapel in the seaport towns where the workmen of 
the French navy were accustomed to attend Mass, be forcibly 



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56o Comment on Current Topics. [July, 

closed, and that young Catholic students in the naval colleges 
be not allowed to go into the towns on Sunday until after one 
o'clock P. M. 

The government is extending its notorious work beyond 
France itself to the colonies, where her Catholic missionaries, 
her religious, have been her most valuable support, and have 
contributed more than anything else to her dominion abroad 
and her prosperity at home. The French Chamber has passed 
the following resolutfon : " The Chamber requests the Minister 
of the Colonies to secularize all public establishments, and also to 
remove religious pictures and emblems from the institutions de- 
pendent upon them." 

The minister sent that resolution to the governor- general of 
Indo- China with the following words : " I reckon upon you 
for the execution of this measure, to which I have pledged 
myself. You will therefore make arrangements for replacing 
the religious by lay persons as quickly as possible." 

And now the government is to make active war on the re- 
ligious orders of women. The Socialists, who possess the 
greatest power in the ministerial majority in the French Chamber, 
have interviewed Premier Combes on the subject of the Asso- 
ciations Law with regard to congregations for women. The 
Socialists have ever been ready to help the premier in any of 
his anti-religious schemes, and perhaps have led him farther 
than he at first intended to go. In all there have been three 
hundred and ninety applications for authorization from these 
congregations. They are of four classes — teaching, nursing, 
contemplative, and mixed, ;. ^., engaged in two or all of these 
works. About eighty of the three hundred and ninety are 
mainly educational, and the premier decides that they with their 
three hundred and fifty establishments must be banished. The 
hospitals of the congregations will be authorized ; their schools, 
numbering nine thousand and eight hundred, will be closed. 

Thus does the war go on, and from the active opposition 

of Catholics and the increasing and bold manifestations of the 

Reds it looks very much as if revolution would be the end of 

it all. 

The Constitutions and Rules of the Biblical 

The Biblical Com- Commission have recently been published, 
mission. 

They explain its purpose, the duties of the 

cardinal members and its consulters, and fix certain regulations 



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1903] Comment on Current Topics. 561 

concerning the periodical which is to be the official organ of 
the Commission. 

The Commission will defend absolutely the integrity of 
Catholic faith in biblical matters; ably and zealously further 
the progress of exegetical studies in line with all recent scien- 
tific research and discovery ; judge controverted questions, when 
necessary, among Catholics, and give answers to Catholics 
throughout the world who may consult the inquisition. The 
Commission also is to do its best towards the establishment in 
Rome of a school for higher Biblical Studies. 

The cardinals are to meet twice a month to receive a re- 
port from the consulters, and have the right to send back such 
report for further study. The Recording Secretary of the 
Commission lays the report of the Cardinals before the Pope, 
and again in turn brings to them the Holy Father's decision. 
The Cardinals will have full charge of the- publication. 

The consulters who reside in Rome will also meet twice a 
month. The others will share in the work by answering ques- 
tions submitted to them. It is quite certain that the organ of 
the Commission will be the well-known Revue Biblique^ whose 
editor heretofore has been the scholarly Pere Legrange, O.P. 

The researches and conclusions of the cele- 

The Cyprian boated student, Dom Chapman, wiU neces- 
Question. ., a i. , , . 

sarily cause Anglicans to look in a somewhat 

different light upon him whom they have heretofore in a measure 
made their champion. All references to the primacy of St. Peter 
in early patristic writings have been stamped by them as forgeries, 
interpolations, etc. Particularly was this true of the clear, re- 
markable passages in the ** De Unitate Ecclesiae " pf St. 
Cyprian. The late Dr. Benson attempted to show this in the 
Dictionary of Christian Biography, and in his thoughtful "Life 
of St. Cyprian," and in these he expressed the general consensus 
of Anglican defence and opinion. 

We quote a few examples of these so-called interpolations, 
enclosed in parentheses : ** Upon Peter (alone) he builds his 
Church " ** . . . in order to make the unity manifest (He 
established one chair), . . . " " . . . but the beginning 
starts from unity (and the primacy is given to Peter)," whoso 
strives against the Church and resists (whoso- abandons the 
Chair of Peter, upon whom the Church is founded), does he 



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562 Comment on Current Topics. [July, 

flatter himself he is in the Church? Dom Chapman argued 
that these were later additions of St. Cyprian himself; and 
with such success that Dr. Harnack, the greatest non- Catho- 
lic scholar of this early period, not only supports him, but 
supports him enthusiastically: 

"In my judgment the. author (Dom Chapman) is right: the 
conclusion forces itself upon the critic verily as the most 
probable solution. One may not only say that it is unim- 
peachably certain, but one is justified in maintaining that it 
rests on the soundest proof." 

" The interpolation " (Dr. Harnack logically speaks of them 
in the singular), he continues, " is the alteration or rather the 
rendering more definite, the line of thought expressed in chap- 
ter four of the treatise, which greater definiteness was made 
necessary by the influence of the Novatian controversy." 

The criticism of Dr. Harnack should be weighty enough at 
least to lead those who have heretofore shielded themselves 
behind so-called *' historical claims " to think again and think 
more seriously. 

The lack of logical principles in the Protest- 
Changes of Faith ant creeds, dwelt upon so often as to be- 
come trite, is manifesting itself more em- 
phatically day by day. The movements of certain Ritualists in 
the denominations, particularly among the Anglicans, are not 
gathering great numbers to themselves — they are too shallow 
for that — but are causing the element of opposition to declare 
itself in no mistakable terms. The English Church Discipline 
Bill is a distinct move towards the secularization of the Christian 
religion, a move away from ecclesiastical authority and teaching. 
The proposed change in the name of the Protestant Episcopal 
Church in the United States is opposed most strongly and 
most successfully by the lay members, though favored by a 
number of the clergy. 

It is known that no general convention can draw strict 
moral Christian rules regarding the sacrament of matrimony 
because of the many influential lay members who have taken 
advantage of the privilege of divorce and of remarriage. 

The Presbyterian Church in its late General Assembly turns 
an about-face concerning its teaching for centuries and declares, 
against its notorious doctrine of predestination, " that Christ 



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1903.] Comment on Current Topics, 563 

died for all men" and that "no man is condemned except for 
sin." Dr. Van Dyke, the moderator, in his opening sermon 
made a strong exposition of the necessity of Christian dogma 
if the Christian faith is to live. And this in the face of a con- 
vention that was to make false teachers out of the founders of 
their faith and its interpreters, that was to give the lie to that 
sentence, rehearsed in children's ears for centuries, *' God having 
out of his mere good pleasure from all eternity elected some to 
everlasting life and others preordained to everlasting death." 
Yet this church still claims to stand as the representative on 
earth of Jesus Christ, the Immortal Son of Truth. 

In like manner, the General Assembly of Scotland — where 
Presbyterianism has had its strongest hold — lately discussed the 
Confession of Faith. One of the presbyters had asked for an 
explanation of the sense which the Church ascribed to the 
subscription to the Confession. After much debate, it was 
voted by a vast majority that the Confession of Faith should 
be regarded as an infallible rule of faith and worship only in 
so far as it accorded with Holy Scripture, as interpreted 
through the Holy Spirit. 

The Scotsman^ dealing with this most convenient teaching, 
"in which the spiritual provender of scores of generations of 
our forefathers " was denounced as " mere hell-broth brewed in 
the dark ages," continues, " the highest authority now assures 
us that the theologjy the Church has taught for centuries and 
excommunicated men for not accepting in all its integrity, is 
dishonoring to God and hateful to man. This right- about- face 
on the part of the Church of Scotland is enough to dumb- 
founder the poor man in the street. If they are right, then it 
is not disestablishing that the Church needs, but abolition. It 
should be swept off the fair face of creation." 

And many of the poor men of the street are thinking, very 
logically, even as the writer in the Scotsman. 



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564 [July. 



CarMnal IDaugban. 

The death of his Eminence Herbert Cardinal Vaughan marks 
the passing of one who for many years occupied with dignity 
and with honor a most prominent and important position in 
the English Catholic Church. 

Cardinal Vaughan was born in April, 1832, and received his 
early education at Stonyhurst. His life as a priest was always 
one of active labor. During its first years he worked among 
the slums of London; later for some time among our own 
negroes in the South, until he was recalled; and it is known 
that he actually went about London with a basket on his arm 
begging bread for the students^ of Mill Hill when that institution 
was destitute of funds. In 1893 ^^ founded the Social Union, 
out of which grew the Catholic settlements now established in 
various parts of London. He established several colleges for 
foreign and home missions, and the commercial college of St. 
Bede in Manchester. He worked energetically for the com- 
pletion of the new Westminster Cathedral, started by Cardinal 
Manning, and laid its first stone in June, 1895. 

He did not possess the intellectual acumen of either of his 
predecessors, but still he has left a number ^of noteworthy pub- 
lications in the form of pamphlets and letters concerning edu- 
cational, social, and religious questions. In 1898 he gave pub- 
lic expression to his desire for an Anglo-American Union. 

There was not a political, or social, or religious question 
in which he was not energetically active. His life, holy and 
pure, inspired by Catholic faith and sanctified by whole-souled 
charity, may be termed an unceasing service to his fellow-man, 
and we trust that as its reward he has received the blessing of 
eternal peace. 



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1903.] The Columbian Reading Union. 565 



THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION. 

LORD KELVIN'S protest against scientific atheism is a sign that religion 
' has recovered its lost ground among the educated classes in England. 
Thirty years ago Darwin, Huxley, Tyndall, and Herbert Spencer were the 
leaders of an intellectual revolt against religion, and their followers were pro- 
claiming war upon all creeds as mouldy relics of superstitious ages. A new 
millennium of free thought and agnosticism was heralded by these scientific 
leaders, who concealed with difficulty their contempt and pity for the childish 
beliefs of credulous humanity. The pendulum, having reached Scientific 
atheism, has been swinging back in the arc of intellectual movement toward 
religious belief more rapidly than good people slumbering peacefully in church 
pews under dull mechanical preaching are aware. An aggressive opponent 
of the Higher Critics, Sir Robert Anderson, after an extended cross-examina- 
tion of extremists like Professor Driver and moderate rationalists like Professor 
Cheyne, is moved to repeat Dr. Pusey's words : *' I know not whether the open 
blasphemy of the eighteenth century is more offensive than the cold-blooded, 
patronizing ways of the nineteenth." Whatever may be the trend of religious 
polemics at Oxford and Cambridge, the antagonism of scientific investigators to 
the traditional beliefs of humanity is not what it was when Professor Tyndall 
proposed a prayer- gauge and Professor Huxley took up the cudgels against 
Mr. Gladstone and attempted to discredit the creation story in Genesis. The 
foremost man in British science now dissents strongly when agnostic views of 
the origin pf life are expressed. 

This protest was made at the close of a lecture on ** Present Day Rational- 
ism," delivered by Professor Henslow. It was subsequently emphasized in a 
short letter to The Ti^s, Professor Henslow had stated that modern science 
neither affirms nor denies creative power in the origin of life. Lord Kelvin 
replied that science positively affirms creative power and makes every one feel a 
miracle in himself. It was not in dead matter, he added, that men lived, moved, 
and had their being, but in a creative and directive power, which science com- 
pelled them to accept as an article of belief. Modern biologists were coming 
once more to a firm acceptance of something, and that was a vital principle. 
Agnostics they might be in science, but they only knew the Creator in his 
works and were absolutely forced by science to admit and to believe with absolute 
confidence in a directive power. Lord Kelvin made a rigorous application of 
the logical law of excluded middle, and contended that there must either be 
scientific belief in creative power or acceptance of the Ciceronian theory of a 
fortuitous concourse of atoms. Because biologists could not escape from the con- 
clusion that there was original creative power when they studied the physics 
and dynamics of living and dead matter, science was not antagonistic to re- 
ligion, but a help to it. <' A million of millions of millions of years would 
not give them a beautiful world like ours." 



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566 THE Columbian Reading Union, [July, 

Lord Kelvin had put this incisive inquiry: " Is there anything so absurd 
as to believe that a number of atoms by falling together of their own accord 
could make a crystal, a sprig of moss, a microbe, or a living animal ? " On 
reflection he perceived that a crystal was an unfortunate illustration, since in 
structure it differed from the cellular formation of which plants and animals 
were made. He accordingly hastened to admit that a crystal might result 
from a fortuitous concourse of atoms, but contended anew that a similar ex- 
planation could not be offered for the origin, existence, and growth of plants 
and living beings, for which scientific thought was compelled to accept the 
idea of creative power. Lord Kelvin closed his brief but weighty confession 
of faith with this striking passage : '* Forty years ago I asked Liebig, walking 
somewhere in the country, if he believed that the grass and flowers which we 
saw around us grew by mere chemical force. He answered : * No ; no more 
than I could believe that a ^ook of botany describing them could grow by 
mere chemical forces.' Every action of a human free will is a miracle to phy- 
sical and chemical and mathematical science." This is emphatic testimony 
from the foremost man of science in England respecting the creative mind as 
the only possible source of life. It differs widely from the scientific atheism of 
Darwin, Tyndall, Huxley, and Spencer, which was accepted a quarter of a 
century ago as the highest wisdom of the educated world. 

Mr. Spencer, who was content with describing the mystery of life as " the 
unknowable," is now a silent figure looking out with dreamy eyes upon the 
sea at Brighton. Professor Darwin's theories of natural selection and the 
survival of the fittest are accepted without reserve by religious teachers who 
look upon evolution in the natural world as the parable of evolution in the 
spiritual world. Professor Tyndall's Belfast address lies neglected on the top 
shelf of the modern library ; and Professor Huxley's bout with Mr. Gladstone 
over the Mosaic cosmogony is forgotten, like his earlier plea for the substitu- 
tion of a pair of chimpanzees for Adam and Eve. The higher critics now 
excite the ire of orthodox controversialists as English apostates masquerading 
in the rags and tatters of German rationalists and converting the Christian 
gospels into romance pure and simple. The agnosftK^ are now within the 
household of faith, editing encyclopaedias of Biblical lore, explaining away 
miracles, and reducing the Scriptures to merely human documents. The 
attack by scientific writers has been suspended. Atom& and ether, which 
once left no room for ghosts, now exclude the creation of a world by fortuitous 
combinations. The origin of life without the impulses and resources of a 
creative mind is now regarded by the Nestor of the British Association not as 
a profound mystery, but as an unscientific and impossible hypothesis. Mira- 
cles are not only in the Bible, but also in every plant with the vital principle 
of growth — in every human creature swayed by a free will. 

Lord Kelvin, who has summed up in a few lucid sentences the new atti- 
tude of science to religion, has been conspicuous for the wide range of his 
intellectual activities and for his practical ability as an inventor. He has been 
an all-round man of science ; pre-eminent alike as a mathematician and an 
electrician ; ministering to the requirements of submarine telegraphy, electric 
lighting, and the art of navigation ; devoting an arduous lifetime to exhaustive 
study of the laws of electricity, heat, magnetism, and tidal action, and think- 



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1903.] The Columbian Reading Union. 567 

ing deeply on the mysteries of the universe. Those who know him well de- 
scribe him as the most modest and unassuming among men, recording his own 
failures in mastering the secrets of electric and magnetic force, or of chemical 
affinity, or of the relations between ether, electricity and ponderable matter, 
yet forecasting with a glow of enthusiasm triumphs of science which he will 
not live to witness. He has faith in his craft requisite for removing mountains, 
for he believes that the world is on the verge of great discoveries, by which 
the hidden laws of matter and energy will be revealed ; yet he has also the 
humility of a child, and bows in reverence before the creative mind of the 
physical universe with its continuous record of miracle-working in every leaf 
that grows, in every human being that wills. 

Dr. Arnold once said that whoever began by believing in morals must end 
with believing in God. The saying may be paraphrased from Lord Kelvin's 
testimony to the mystery of life so as to read : Whoso begins by admitting 
that the origin of life without creative power is scientifically impossible must 
inevitably end by becoming profoundly and reverently religious. When such 
testimony as this is supplied by the greatest scientific thinker in England, who 
has put behind him the agnosticism prevailing during the last generation, it 
does not matter whether higher critics are making up expurgated editions of 
the Gospels with everything which sceptics regard as suspicious carefully 
eliminated, or explaining away the Mosaic narrative as either an allegory or 
a fable, or dismissing Abraham as a ** lunar hero*' compatible with recent 
discoveries of archaeology. Science with its positive declaration that creative 
power is the only possible explanation of the origin of life, and that every one 
may feel in himself the evidence of miracle reinforces religion with the highest 
intelligence of the times. — /. N, F, in the New York Tribune, 
» « » 

The learned critic of books, Camillus, in the Catholic News has cleverly 
exposed the vulgarity and offensive sectarianism of a book found in a Public 
School Library, which is entitled Black Rock : a Tale of the Selkirks^ by Ralph 
Connor, better known among his friends as the Rev. Charles W. Gordon. It 
seems that the school yiPustees at Saratoga Springs, N. Y., are much in love 
with this book, since a prominent taxpayer was refused a hearing when he 
appeared to protest against its admission to any public library. Strange to 
relate, the chairman of the board declared the meeting adjourned while the 
taxpayer was presenting his argument. In the hope of curbing such inso- 
lence in the future the manager of the Columbian Reading Union has secured 
the following account of the objectionable book under discussion : 

Black Rock is very much criticised by educators abroad as well as by the 
local taxpayers. It was introduced into the Grammar School as a text-book 
for reading. It is haltingly told in faulty English and simply cannot be classed 
as literature. Its introduction is based on the assumption that it is a good 
temperance sermon ; but one chapter is devoted to a ball in a bar-room, and 
the chapter following to a bar-room brawl, the logical sequence of the ball. 
When we had finished reading we were quite overcome by the fumes of the 
whisky which had flowed freely through two long chapters, and almost deaf- 
ened by the swearing, which to be sure was put down as "blankety — blank — 
blanks," but was further described as "a roll of curses possible to no one but 



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568 THE Columbian Reading Union [July, 

a mountain stage-driver.'' On finishing this harrowing account we had the 
idea somehow that Idaho Jack and Slavin the Saloon-Keeper were the only 
temperates present at the ball, and came out on top of the heap in the brawl 
ensuing. 

** There's going to be something of a time, so just keep your eyes 
skinned.". 

'* What are you going to do? " I asked. 

" Do ? Just keep myself beautifully out of trouble," he replied. 

" In a few moments the crowds came surging back, headed by Nixon, 
who was waving a whisky bottle and yelling like one possessed. Nixon was in 
his glory. It was his night. Every man was to get drunk at his expense. 
* Hello ! ' he called to Graeme. * Here you are ! You *re a knocker, a 
double-handed front-door knocker. You polished off old whisky-soak ! Here, 
old demijohn * — pointing to Slavin. * And I '11 lay five to one we can lick any 
blankety-blank thieves in the crowd.'" 

Think of this being read by our seventh year children, when school edi- 
tions of Hawthorne, Irving, Goldsmith, and the rest may be purchased for a 
trifle. 

Here is an extract from the opening chapter, entitled Christmas Eve in a 
Lumber Camp : 

" Big Sandy McNaughton, a Canadian Highlander from Glengarry, rose 
up in wrath. 

** * Bill Keefe,' said he with deliberate emphasis 'you'll just keep your 
dirty tongue off the minister ; and as for your pay, it's little he sees of it, or 
any one else, except Mike Slavin, when you's too dry to wait for some one to 
treat you, or perhaps Father Ryan, when the fear of hell-fire is on you.' 

*'It was not simply that the Presbyterian blood carried with it reverence 
for the minister and contempt for Papists and FenianSy but he had a vivid 
remembrance of how, only a month ago, the minister had got him out of Mike 
Slavin's saloon, and out of the clutches of Keefe and Slavin and their gang of 
blood-suckers,^^ 

This next is from a description of a fist-to-fist -^ncounter given with 
details. 

"What's up?" I cried. 

"Mr. Connor," said Sandy solemnly, "it is a gentleman you are, though 
your name is against you, and I am a good Presbyterian, and I can give you 
the Commandments and Reasons annexed to them ; but yon 's a Papist thief 
and I am justified in getting my money out of his soul." 

Then ensues a game in which these gentlemen from Scotland and Ireland 
exchange muscular and verbal compliments; then "Slavin met him with a 
straight left-hander and laid him flat." 

"Hooray!" yelled Blaney, "Ireland for ever! Back, or by the Holy 
Moses I '11 kill the first man that interferes wid the game." 

Later on, in a chapter entitled What Came to Slavin, we read of how 
Slavin's baby falls ill, and we wander through a badly-spelled attempt at ren- 
dering the patois of his French-Canadian wife. 

"You must pray for him," said Mrs. Mavor, the pretty widow who is 
worshipped by the bad men of the camp. 



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1903.] The Columbian Reading Union. 569 

Then from Mrs. Slavin: "Ah ! madam, every day, every day I pray la 
sainte Viergc et tous les saints for him." 

Mrs. Mavor: "You must pray to your Father in heaven for him." 

When later the baby is dying from an over-dose of medicine, prescribed 
by a drunken physician, "A new terror seized the mother. My baby is not — 
what you call it ? " going through the form of baptism ; ** an' he will not come 
to la sainte Vierge," she said, crossing herself." 

The minister, Craig, volunteers to send some one for the priest, and then 
adds : "I wonder if they would not like me to baptize their little one ? Father 
Goulet and I have exchanged offices before now. He is a good soul and has 
no nonsense about him. Send for me if you think there is need. // will 
make no difference to the baby^ but it will comfort the mother.*^ As the priest 
fails to arrive in time the minister is called upon. Mrs. Mavor asks him if he 
objects to using holy water. 

" To me it is the same as any other," he replied gravely. "An* will he 
make the good sig^ ? " asked the mother timidly. And so the child was bap- 
tized by the Presbyterian minister with holy water and with the sign of the 
cross. 

The taxpayers of several denominations feel their rights are being set 
aside when the sacrament of baptism and the belief in infant baptism are 
heavily discounted if not openly denied. 

To speak with extreme moderation, it is injudicious to place in the hands 
of children of the public schools a text-book which from its very nature is 
objectionable to many from the religious, social, and literary stand-points, and 
which, considered in its most favorable light as a mining-camp love-story, is 
unsuitable and profitless to the boys and girls who are daily called upon to 
read aloud and then discuss its pugilistic or preaching pages. 



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V 



'©OKlfORlD 





^ 



The Wew Century for Christ. (Poem.) leo xiii. 
Leo Xlll^f the Great Leader, i mv, a. p. doyle. 
The Papacy never Diet. 
Prayera, Old and New. 

Louii Veuillot. (Illustrated,) 

K MYERS, B ^ . 

Lives Hallowed by Faith. \ na clipfoJv-j 

David and Goliath* (Poem.) n. j. bei.' . 

An American GirFB Visit to Valparaiso. (Illus.) 

^. MacMAHC - 

Eastern Churches in Communion with Rome. 

(Illustrated,) r i' h^nzo O'ROUBk::. 

Queen Beauty of Garmel, (Poem ) 

Joyce Joiselya, Sinner, 

The Historical Revival in Slenese Treasures. 

(Illustrated.) f. w. p.a >'feoi.s. 

The Perils of Unauthorized Dogmatism. 

S M. WE:- -COT? 

John Graham Brooks ou Social Unrest. 

One Use of Death. (Poem.) james bu- j ham. 



Prloe, fl5 Cento % #3 per Y 



THE OFFICE OF THE CATHOLIC WORLD, NEW YORK. 

p. O. Box s, Station M. gitizedbyGoOgle 



m AID BOOK OOMPIIT, 22 



Row, 



B.a 




Sweet, Cleadv aivd PMre- 
everytKixvg cleaivsed 

witK 

Better tKaiv the best Soap for all 
purposes where soap co\]ld be \ised 

^ Sek.fe for tKeSkiiv 

^ Necessary for delicate 

fabrics which ccuuvot stand 

/ _^ destructive mbbiivg and 

" for the wonveiv 

who do it 

ve saves botK 



TRISCUIT is unexceUed 
as a food for children, be- 
cause it contains all the 
elements of Whole Wheat, 
which go to properly nour- 
ish the whole body. Wheat 
contains the properties to 
make bone, teeth, muscle, 
in fact every part of the 
body. 

TRISCUIT 

IS 

NATURE'S FOOD 
BY 

NATURE'S PROCESS 




TRISCUIT, the highest 
achievement known to the 
science of food production, 
is made possible by that 
other great achievement, 
the application of electric- 
ity; for Triscuit is made 
and baked by electricity. 





WITH COCOA OR OTHKB DRINK 



AS A BRKA1» OR TOAST 

TRISCUIT is a neat 
compact form of fila- 
mented wheat, its shape 
and size making it con- 
venient to be carried 
wherever you may go, 
and to be used at any 
time. Triscuit is an 
all-day food for every- 
body, and contains the 
properties for sound 
teeth, perfect digestion, 
and an entirely healthy 
body in accord w^ith 
Nature's laws. 



WITH CHIXSE OR VRIIT PRKSKRTK 



Composed of the whole wheat 
berry, God's perfect grift to man. 

Not touched by human hands 
durinsr the process of manufacture. 

Cleaned, fi lamented, formed and 
baked by electricity. 

Triscuit can be used as a Bread,Toast, Wafer or Cracker. 
Deiicious witii Ciieese, Fruit, Preserves, etc. 

Placinfir Triscuit in warming oven a 
few moments will renew crispness. 

SEND FOR DESCRIPTIVE BOOKLET (FREE.) 

TKe Natural Food CompaAS^ 
Niagara Falls* N. Y. 



f^ The rai K0 need on tbim puhlieMtion mre mmnnfaetured hy 



Xeo 1111/0 nDcssage to tbc ^wcntlctb Century? : 

Ctoc greatest tnisrortunc is never to Dave known 3esu$ 
Cbrlst. CDrist is Ibe rountain^Deaa or all good, mankind 
can no more De saved witDout l>is DOwer tban it can be re° 
deemed wilbout Bis mercp. 

Wben Jesus Cbrlst is absent buman reason fails, being bc= 
reft or Its cbier protection and ligbt : and tbe perp end is 
lost sigbt or ror tPbicb. under 6od's propidence, buman so=^ 
cietp bas been built up. 

Co reject Dogma is simpip to denp Cbristianitp. It is 
epident tbat tbep wbose intellects reject tbe poke of Cbrist 
are obstinatelp striping against 6od. leaping sbaken off 
6od's autborltp. tbep are bp no means rreer» ror tbep will 
rail beneatb some buman swap. 

6od alone is life, illl otber beings partake or life, but 
are not life. Cbrist. rrom all eternitp and bp Bis perp na* 
ture. Is "tbe Cife," just as Be is "tbe Crutb." because Re 
Is 6od or 6od. ir anp one abide not in me. be sball be 
cast rortb as a brancb, and sball tpitber. and tbep sball 
gatber bim up and cast bim into tbe nre, and be burnetb 
(3obn xp. 6). 

Once remope all impediments and allow tbe spirit of 
Cbrist to repipe and grow in a nation, and tbat nation sball 
be beaied. 

Cbe world bas beard enougb or tbe so-called "rigbts or 
man." £et It bear sometbing or tbe rigbts or 6od. 

Cbe common welfare urgentip demands a return to Bim 
rrom wbom we sbouid neper bape gone astrap : to Bim wbo 
Is tbe Wap. tbe Crutb. and tbe £ire.— and tbis on tbe part 
not onip of indipiduais but of societp as a wbole. 



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My course Vve run of ninety lengthening years. 

From Thee the gift. Crown them with endless bliss. 
O hearken to Thy Leo^s prayers and tears^ 

Lest useless they should prove^ O grant him this. 



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THE 

CATHOLIC WORLD. 

Vol. LXXVII. AUGUST, 1903. No. 461. 

She Hew ^entup^y pop^ (©hp^isip. 

BY LEO XIH. 



HE noble age that fostered art is dead. 

Who thirsts for poet's fame let him in song 
The ease of life extol, the praises spread, 
Of Nature's vast resources, hid so long! 

II. 

Thy crimes, O age now gone, have filled my soul 
With deepest woe; I've trembled and I've wept; 

And as with backward glance I read thy scroll 
I see what evil tides have o'er thee swept. 

III. 

Which of thy deeds claims largest dole of tears: 
Thy slaughtered dead or fall of scepter'd kings? 

Or rampant vice ? or dual war, with fears 
Which to our fortressed Vatican it brings? 

IV. 

O Rome ! thdu chiefest city of this earth. 
That ne'er did shackled hands in suppliance raise. 

Lo ! long ancestral lines of noblest birth 

Have hailed thee — "Pontiff's throne" — since Peter's days. 

Thb Missionakt Society op St. Paul the Apostlb in the Statb 

OP New York, 1903. 
VOL, LXXVII.— 37 



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572 THE New Century for Christ [Aug., 



Woe to the state whose laws their God ignore ; 

What honor and what trust in man abide? 
His rights fall with his altars — justice o*er, 

We weep its wreck, the ruined fanes beside. 

VI. 

Heed not th* insensate herd of falsely wise, 
That conscious of their crime, with labor sore 

Lead men to lift their earth-dimmed eyes 
Toward Nature's soulless forms, and there adore. 

vn. 

Of false philosophers the heartless throng 

Scorn our immortal birth and teach, forsooth. 

That from like germ spring beast and man, and wrong 
Thee, Lord, with empty dreams, replacing truth. 

VIII. 
How vile alas! the seething pools where pride. 

With fury impotent, would lead our race! 
Attend and learn, O man, whate'er betide, 

God's laws endure in every time and place. 

IX. 

Tis Christ alone is life and truth and way 
That leadeth ever upward toward the goal. 

The fleeting years His voice alone obey, 

He crowns with youth renewed each righteous soul. 

X. 

His spirit lately led the pious throng 

That flocked as pilgrims filled with faith and love 
To kneel where Peter's dust has slept so long. 

False, empty rites no more their hearts can move. 

XI. 
P Jesus, Master of our future days, 

Rule Thou life's surging tides in coming years. 
Compel rebellious minds to seek thy ways, 

And cleanse their past by penitential tears. 



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I903.] 



THE New Century for Christ. 



S73 



XIL 
Cast wide abroad the seed of heavenly peace; 

Quell tumults, wars and wrath — ^hell's triple brood; 
Drive them to sulphurous depths, and g^ant us ease 

From fraud a^ti4 vice and all that hinders good. 

XIII. 
May kings, Thou leading, o'er their people hold 

Just sway, and bend them to' Thy law, for then 
.Shall we stand as one shepherd with one fold. 

One faith uniting all the hearts of men. 

XIV. 
My course I've run of ninety lengthening years. 

From Thee the gift. Crown them with endless bliss. 
O hearken to Thy Leo's prayeris and tears. 

Lest useless they should prove, O grant him this. 




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574 Leo XilL, THE Great Leader. [Aug., 




LEO XIII., THE GREAT LEADER. 

BY REV. A. P. DOYLE. 

[HE aged Pontiff breathed his last at 4 P. M. on July 
20. Because he had lived for over ninety years, 
and not for any other immediate reason, the end 
came. Though there was an apparent dissolu- 
tion of his body under the devastating hand of 
time, still the mind is as keen and the heart as full of zeal, 
and the spirit as eager for work, as though the years of his 
glorious pontificate were before him. 

During the last fortnight the gaze of all the world has 
been eagerly fixed on the death-bed of the expiring Pope, 
and under the white light of the public gaze he has loomed 
up, the great man he is, in all his gigantic proportions. The 
world saw the corporal feebleness of age and the ravag^ing 
hand of disease, but it saw also the conquering and uncon- 
quered spirit of the greatest man of his age — the noblest 
Roman of them all. 

It is not time as yet to write his eulogy. We are too 
near the massive proportions of a great life to give a proper 
estimate of its greatness. It will be necessary to stand off 
from it at some distance in order to get the proper perspec- 
tive. Still there are, however, some things that havfe impressed 
the world, and from these we cannot get away. 

During these days of his mortal sickness, when the strug* 
gle with the grim monster became the keenest, Leo never is 
anything but the Christian gentleman. Men of dominating 
minds and inflexible wills, especially if they have been .accus- 
tomed to rule, are sometimes thoughtless of others who are 
about them. They have been so accustomed to brush away 
obstacles that the directness and force of their determination 
seem to know no fear or favor in dealing with things that 
surround them. Leo never forgets the chivalry of Christian 
gentleness. When the cardinals come in to see him, though 
he 4s as near prostrate in body as he -may be, still he rises 
from his bed to meet^them, and asks them to be seated. 



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1903.] Leo XIIL, the Great Leader, .575 

When Dr. Lapponi asks to be relieved for a short while to 
visit the sick bed of his daughter, Leo apologizes for the 
trouble he is giving to every one around him, and says that 
they have all become martyrs for his sake. When one of the 
Vatican pigeons lights on his window-sill and gently taps at 
the window, he awakes out of his weakness and asks that the 
window be raised and the bird admitted, and he feeds the 
pigeon as it lights on his bed, gently stroking its feathers. 
When every one is anticipating his speedy dissolution, he rises 
from his bed, goes over to his writing desk, and puts into 
poetry some beautiful thought that fills his mind. And in the 
midst of all his suffering he is full of devotion. He prays in- 
cessantly to the Mother of God. St. Leo's day comes, and 
ever since his childhood he has not failed to be present at 
Holy Mass on that day particularly; he directs that Mass be 
said in the adjoining room, and he devoutly follows it. He 
was a member of the Third Order of Franciscans, and in order 
to receive all the wonderful privileges that are granted to the 
faithful who are identified with that Third Order, he sends for 
the Capuchin cardinal to give him the last blessing. His faith 
is strong and tender. In the visions that pass before his mind 
the joys of paradise are vividly depicted. He would stay to 
give his last breath for the Church, but the alluring vision of 
heaven beckons him away. And in the midst of it all nothing 
can quench his unconquerable desire for work. There are 
some things that are unfinished ; he calls Cardinal RamppUa 
and directs their execution. The Biblical Commission is very 
close to his heart, and he gives an admonition to his secretary 
that its work be prosecuted to a speedy end. These and 
many other little touches of character coming from the death 
chamber do not fail to paint the portrait of one of the great- 
est Popes the world has ever known. 

Leo has been a providential man in the fullest sense of thq 
word. He has been a Moses who has led the hosts of the 
Lord from a captivity that was more galling than the slavery 
of Egypt of old through the desert of suffering into the 
promised land. The forty years that have elapsed since the 
breach of Porta Pia have brought untold victories to the churchy 
The Robber King battering at the gates of Rome is readily 
offset in the eyes of discerning readers by the eager visits of 
the Kaiser, the head of the Lutheran Church, and the English 



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576 LEO XIIL, THE Great Leader. [Aug., 

King, the head of the Episcopal Church, to pay reverence and 
homage to the head of the great Mother Church of Christendom, 
and everywhere throughout the world, people who are outside the 
fold have been devoutly praying that he might be spared to the 
world for many years to come. One cannot help* contrasting 
the feelings of non- Catholic people to-day towards the Church 
of Rome with the sentiments of antagonism that were expressed 
but a generation ago. Not a little of this is due to the com- 
manding, and at the same time attractive, figure of the great 
White Shepherd of Christendom. There have been popes who 
have emphasized certain characteristics, and they stand out in 
history as striking types of these special characteristics. 
Innocent HI. was a great reformer; Sixtus V. a great states- 
man ; Pius V. was crowned with the aureole of sanctity ; 
Gregory VI. was a man of great learning; but Leo seems to 
have united in his own person in a very marked degree all 
these great qualities. His gifts were of so universal a nature 
that it is difficult to say which one. belongs to him ii^ the more 
pre-eminent degree. His genius has illuminated every depart- 
ment of religious activity, be it statecraft or be it letters ; be it 
the devotional side of the church, or the philosophical, or the 
diplomatic^ or the purely religious. 

As a statesman he has rallied to the support of the church 
the influences of the great civil powers. When he began his 
pontifical career England was the enemy of the Papacy ; 
Germany was persecuting the Catholics of the Empire; the 
United States of America had established no definite relations 
with the Holy See; while Spain, and France, and Austria, 
Catholic at heart, were too much worried over internal difficul- 
ties to be the earnest supporters of the Papacy that they 
should be. After twenty- five years there is no stronger friend 
of the dying Pope than the Emperor of Germany. The 
antagonisms that were openly enunciated in the German 
Empire against Catholics have been replaced by expressions of 
fealty. The Emperor has come to look upon the moral power 
of the Papacy as one of the most potent supporters of the 
throne. Leo has so stood for the authority of constituted 
governments, and the Catholic religion has had such influence 
in inculcating reverence and submission among the people, that 
were there no force of this nature, it would be necessary to 
create one in order that its work may be done. In Germany 



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^903.] Leo XIIL, the Great Leader. 577 

the people to-day are about equally divided between the Catho- 
lics as loyal supporters of the throne and the socialists/ who, 
if thek" programme were carried out in its entirety, would sweep 
the throne away and abolish the authority that it stands for. 
In England the same is true, though perhaps not to as large 
an extent as it is elsewhere. In Spain Leo has upheld the throne 
that was tottering to a disastrous fall. If it were not for his 
influence, Spain would to-day be in the grasp of the revolu- 
tion or broken up into a number of smaller states. 

In the United States the devotion of twelve million Catho- 
lics has done not a little to cement together the stones of our 
social fabric by infusing the spirit of religion into the edu- 
cational life of the country, and by standing for the permanency 
of the family and the integrity of the home. 

Here is a sheaf of victories in the diplomatic world that 
would make any man's life a blessing to the world. Of course 
it is a profound pity that more has not been done in France. 
That it has not been done is no fault of Leo's. If his advice 
had been taken, and if the Catholics of France had rallied to 
the support of the existing government, it may well be supposed 
that the present deplorable condition of religious affairs would 
not have come to pass. Instead of witnessing the religious or- 
ders persecuted by an infidel government, there would probably 
have been a change of heart in the civil authorities, and as of 
yore France would be the eldest daughter of the church. The 
same may be said in Italy. The Italian people are more loyal 
to the Holy See to-day than ever. The sympathy that has 
gone out to the prisoner of the Vatican, as well as a certain 
sentiment of co-suffering that the people, ground down by heavy 
taxation, have felt with the Pope, have made them more loyal 
in their fealty to the head of the church. 

Not only in statecraft has Leo proved himself an adept, but 
as a scholar he has elevated the standards of literary taste and 
of ecclesiastical studies. In calling the professors of the Catho- 
lic world back to the scholastic philosophy he has laid the 
foundations deep and' strong for theological science, and he has 
pointed out the way back to the great truths of the supernatural 
order for much of the rationalistic and scientific knowledge of 
the ag-e. During the last half of the nineteenth century agnos- 
tic science triumphed in most of the universities of the world; 
but the human mind could not be content with its barrenness 



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57« Leo XIIL, the Great Leader. [Aug^ 

and its negations, and in reaching out for something more posi- 
tive, as well as for a solution of the religrious problems that al- 
ways perplex human hearts, the old philosophy of Aristotle con- 
stituted the best vantage ground, and with this solid basis to 
stand on the scholars of the day can much more readily reach 
out for that amalgamation between the modern and ancient 
schools. Historical science owes not a little to the man who 
threw open the archives of the Vatican,, and who wanted the 
truth to be told, no matter who was injured thereby, and not 
a few scholars have profited by the initiative of Leo, with the 
result that a good deal of the history that was written in Ger- 
man and English under the influence of the fierce antagonisms 
of the Protestant revolt will have to, and is now being rewritten. 
In Biblical science the rationalizing Higher Critics were having 
a free hand and a wide field, with the result that the sacred 
books were torn into tatters and the old reverence for the 
Scriptures as the word of God was dying out among non- 
Catholic people. The Bible was all they had to depend upon, 
and when it was gone there came a decadence of the religious 
spirit. Leo came to the rescue, and there was nothing closer 
to his heart than the outcome of the Biblical Commission he 
established, and amidst the suffering of his last sickness one of 
his admonitions was to see that these investigations were 
brought to a speedy and wholesome issue. So too in social 
studies, which are now vexing the nations, Leo has given a 
Magna Charta in his Encyclical on the '^ Condition of Labor." 
He has affirmed principles there that seemed radical in their 
enunciation, but now that they are being applied to practical 
difficulties, are doing not a little to bring about the harmoniza- 
tion of Labor >yith Capital. The Catholic University of Ameri- 
ca was born of his inspiration; the universities in France and 
Germany and among the Slavonic peoples were started through 
his initiative. Seminaries in Rome for the education of the 
students of the Oriental rites owe their existence to his generous 
gifts and derive their permanency from his largesses. 

All these and many more great things that he has done for 
the intellectual, make him the very prince among scholars. 

In the midst of his many labors with governments and 
among scholars he has not forgotten the devotional life of the 
people. His own spirit of prayer has been imparted to the 
multitudes, so that there has been a distinct revival in the 



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1903.] Leo XIIL, the Great Leader. 579 

devotional life of the church. The devotion to the Sacred 
Heart, with its first Friday throngs, has received a distinct 
impetus from his instructions. The time-honored Rosary has 
become a more favorite devotion among all classes, and the 
October devotions, as well as the prayers after daily Mass, have 
become distinctive features of the devotional life of the church 
through his directions. The same may be said of the devotion 
to the Holy Spirit with its annual Pentecostal novena. He 
has not only known what to suggest, but his practical sense 
has so arranged that his suggestions were not mere ephemeral 
directions but were soon incorporated into the very soul-life of 
the people. No one can look back over the last generation 
and make any contrasts without saying that Leo has done as 
much for the religious spirit of the world as any of his pre- 
decessors. 

All these considerations convince us that Leo has been an 
all-round great Pope. He has been a Leader among men. He 
has left the impress of his spirit on his age. His life has 
spanned one of the most critical periods of human activity. 
When the old order had been completely changed, in the 
rearranging of the new elements, and in the re-establishing 
of new forces there was need of one with more than human 
wisdom to guide our ways and to direct our feet. If ever 
in the world there was need of a providential man ; of one 
whose feet, while planted on the earth, yet whose head was 
above the clouds, and whose heart was in touch with divine 
things, it was during this marvellous age of ours ; and Leo has 
been such an interpreter of divine wisdom to the children of 
men. His long life has covered the nineteenth century; there 
were wrapped up in him the experiences of men and things 
through this most fateful of all eras ; and it has been per- 
mitted to lap over into the twentieth century, so that with the 
wisdom of the past he may point out*the ways to greater 
triumphs in the years to come. 

His Message to the Twentieth Century is one of the most 
thrilling documents that have been sent out to the world. It 
ranks with the Magna Charta of English history or the Decla- 
ration of Independence of our own, and in the years to come 
it will be enshrined as they are in the hearts of multitudes of 
people : 

"To reject dogma is simply to deny Christianity. It is 



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58o Leo XIIL, the Great Leader. [Aug., 

evident that they whose intellects reject the yoke of Christ are 
obstinately striving against God. Having shaken off God's 
authority, they arc by no means freer, for they will fall be- 
neath some human sway. 

'-God alone is life. All other beings partake of Ufe, but 
are not life. Christ, from all eternity and by his 'very nature, 
is 'the Life,' just as he is 'the Truth,' because he is God of 
God. If any one abide not in Me, he shall be cast forth as a 
branch, and shall wither, and they shall gather him up and 
cast him into the fire, and he burneth (John xv. 6). 

" Once remove all impediments and allow the spirit of Christ 
to revive and grow in a nation, and that nation shall be 
healed. 

"The world has heard enough of the so-called 'rights of 
man.' Let it hear something of the rights of God. 

"The common welfare urgently demands a return to him 
from whom we should never have gone astray ; to him who is 
the Way, the Truth, and the Life, — and this on the part not 
only of individuals but of society as a whole." 

Leo, Great Pontiff of the age, thou mayest well lay down 
the burden of thy four score years and ten ! Thou deservest 
well of humanity. You have been a great leader in the 
Church of God. The weary pilgrimage of a desert land is 
over, and from Nebo's height there stretches before you the 
Promised Land of rest and joy and everlasting bliss. 

" Hail, Champion of the Faith ! whose beacon light, 
Held high in trembling hands, illum'ned the world 
With such a blaze as ne'er before hath shone. 
E'en from the torch that Gregory upheld 
Or Pius kindled. Hark, the swelling sound 
From many million throats ! Thy children see 
The Signal, an(l in serried legions stand 
Before the grateful world, and with one voice 
Demand for thee. Great Father and Great Friend, 
The joy and peace that is thy due." 



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1 903.] The Papacy never Dies. 581 



THE PAPACY NEVER DIES. 

the present writing the question of choosing a 
successor to Leo XIII. in the pontifical chair is 
of paramount importance. For this reason the 
traditional method of selecting a Pope is a topic 
of more than ordinary interest. 
Popes may die, but the Papacy lives for ever. With tem- 
poral princes their succession may come to an end. Reigning 
families may become exhausted ; dynasties have come and 
gone; but by divine right the line of the Popes will last till 
the end of the world. The methods of electing the successor 
of St. Peter have changed in the nineteen centuries that the 
Popes have reigned, but as soon as one is canonically elected 
he assumes unto himself all the prerogatives of the Papal 
Chair. There is no prince in all Christendom whose power is 
greater. The influence of the Vicar of Christ is not confined 
to any race or people. It is not exercised by force of arms, 
nor is it maintained through the civil power. His jurisdiction 
is over the hearts of 260,000,000, and his word is obeyed with 
far more alacrity and submission than is accorded to any other 
ruler in the world. He is the successor of the Prince of the 
Apostles. He holds to all the faithful the place of the Vicar 
of Christ, and they acknowledge his infallibility in matters of 
faith and morals. These facts alone give to the election of the 
Pope an importance that is not attributable to any other event 
in history. 

In the first place, it is a condemned proposition to main- 
tain that the laity have any strict right of suffrage in the 
election of the Pope. In ancient times the vote of the Roman 
clergy, cast in the presence of the faithful, was the elective 
power; but as the papal dignity increased in wealth and 
splendor of temporal authority it often became an object of 
human ambition. For this reason it was deemed necessary to 
enact laws that definitely settled the mode of election. This 
was done by Symmachus in the year 499. 

The history of the interference of civil princes in the elec- 
tion of the Popes fills many a dark chapter in the papal 



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58a The Papacy never Dies. [Aug<, 

records. It is the old story of the state, with its stronger 
power, laying its blighting hand on the liberties of the church. 
It was not till 1059, under Nicholas II., that the Papacy was 
completely emancipated from any subjection to the Empires 
and his successor, Gregory VII., the glorious Hildebrand, was 
the last Pope who ever informed the emperor of his .election 
before proceeding to be consecrated and enthroned. The Third 
General Council of the Lateran (11 79) confined the right to 
elect to the cardinals without reference to the rest of the 
Roman clergy or of the people, and required a two-thirds vote 
for a valid election. 

The word conclave is of a little later origin. It originated 
in the custom of selecting a hall whose door could be securely 
fastened (cum clavi — with a key) behind the voting cardinals 
until they agreed by a two-thirds majority on a candidate. In 
some instances, where the stubborn electors held out, a dimin- 
ishing quantity of food was served so as to hasten an agree- 
ment, and in one instance, where a year and one- half elapsed 
before a definite result was obtained, l^e roof was removed 
and the venerable fathers were left to the inclemencies of the 
weather until they came to a conclusion. 

Any one may theoretically be elected Pope. He need not 
be a cardinal, nor even a priest. He need not be an Italian. 
Not a few persons of ignoble birth and of mean antecedents 
have been elected to the Papacy, which they have illustrated 
by their virtues or their learning. Sixtus V., 1 585-1 595, was 
a swineherd in his youth, and he repeatedly affirmed the fact 
when he was Pope. It was Sixtus V. of whom Queen Eliza- 
beth of England said, when asked to marry, that she would 
offer her hand in marriage to no one but Sixtus, and he would 
not accept it. The present Cardinal Gotti's father was a ste- 
vedore. Almost every nationality has had a representative in 
the chair of Peter, but for several centuries tho^ Italians have 
kept the accession within their own nation, for the reason that 
the popedom has been a civil principality. 

As soon as the Pope breathes his last the Cardinal Chamber- 
lain takes possession of the Apostolic palace. He proceeds to 
the death chamber, assures himself of, and instructs a notary 
to certify to, the fact that the Pope is really dead. Then the 
ring of the Fisherman is broken and the seal destroyed. The 
body is embalmed and carried in procession to the Chapel of 



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iQOSO THE PAPACY NEVER DIES. 583 

the Blessed Sacf anient in the Vatican basilica, where it remains^ 
for three days, the feet protruding a little through an opening 
in the iron railing which encloses the chapel, that the faithful 
may approach and kiss the embroidered slipper. The nine days 
of funeral services are gone through with. During the last 
three days the services are performed about an elevated and 
magnificent catafalque. On each of these days five cardinals in 
turn grive the absolution, and on the ninth day a funeral oration 
is pronounced. The body is reverently put into a cyprus-wood 
coffin. This is put into a leaden case properly inscribed, and 
then all is placed in a wooden box covered with a red pall, 
and in this condition it is carried to the last resting-place, pre- 
viously selected by the deceased. 

On the tenth day the cardinals assemble in the forenoon, 
and the preparations are made for the Conclave. AH the per- 
sons who are to remain in the Conclave — as prelates, custodians, 
attendants on the cardinals, physicians, barbers, masons — are 
passed in review and take an oath not to speak even among 
themselves of matters concerning the election. Every avenue 
leading to the Conclave, except the eight loopholes, is walled 
up by the masons ; but one door is left so that it may be 
opened by the late coming cardinals or to let out any one who 
may be expelled, or who for any good reason may be obliged to 
go out Any one who leaves cannot return. This only door has 
a combination lock, to be opened by the key of the prince 
marshal outside and of the cardinal chamberlain inside. 

The food for the cardinals is introduced' by a turn, so well 
known in convents of cloistered communities. 

The next day, after Mass of the Holy Ghost, the balloting 
begins, and continues until some one receives the necessary 
two-thirds. The ballots are cast into a chalice on the altar. 

There are now 63 cardinals in the Sacred College. Some 
may, on account of distance — as Cardinal Moran of Australia — 
or on account of age or infirmities, be prevented from being 
present If they were all present it would require 42 votes to 
elect It would seem from the present aspect of the Sacred 
College that a good many ballots may be taken before the 
requisite number is secured. 

In the last Conclave Cardinal Pecci was so pre-eminently a 
leader that it took but one ballot practically to settle the 
question of his election. In all probability it will take more 



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584 THE PAPACY NEVER DIES. [Aug., 

than one to settle the choice in the present Conclave. It is 
ordinarily very foolish to prpphe&y, but it is especially so when 
the subject matter of the prophecy is the outcome of the 
Conclave. There is an old Roman proverb which says, ''He 
who enters the Conclave as Pope comes out of it as Cardinal." 
It does not always happen that the verdict of the Cardinals 
ratifies that of public opinion or of the public press. In 
fact the more prominent cardinals, who are well known to the 
world at large, are generally the leaders of parties, and are for 
that very reason the less likely to draw unto themselves the 
suffrages ol two-thirds of the Sacred College. They are the 
ones who have positive characteristics and practically stand for 
definite policies, and for that reason they have awakened op- 
position to themselves. Moreover leaders are not always neces- 
sary in the Papal Chair. Leo XIII. has been so pre-eminently 
an aggressive character, and his brilliant mind has illuminated 
so many departments of church- work, and his organizing hand 
has co-ordinated so many church activities, that a quiet, placid, 
conservative man might easily maintain the status quo for many 
years to come. The meek and humble Cardinal Chiaramonti, 
who became Pius VII., was far better fitted to withstand the 
eagle-like aggressiveness of Napoleon the First than Cardinal 
Consalvi would have been, or a dominating spirit like Sixtus 
the Fifth would have been. If the latter were pitted against a 
Napoleon, there would have been wreck and ruin throughout 
the Church. 

Moreover, in discussing the papabile^ one is often deceived 
in the qualities of a cardinal's character. Cardinal Pecci was 
ranked among, the liberals, and it was expected that he would 
establish a policy of agreement with the Italian government ; 
but the very first act of Leo XIII. was to affirm irrevocably 
the attitude of protest against the usurper who ruled in the 
civil principality of the church. There is always a reserve in 
the ecclesiastical world in Rome that the outside world rarely 
penetrates, and consequently it knows little of the great moving 
forces in the Sacred College. 

These things have been said in order that too much weight 
may not be placed on any conjectural list of would-be popes. 
Still it is allowable to discuss the chances various candidates 
may have and the characteristics that would seem best fitted to 
the times and the difficulties before the churchi 



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1903] . The Papacy never Dies. 585 

The question of the Christian Democracy is one of thiP^ 
great burning prottlems. Socialism is a growing quantify in 
Germany and elsewhere. It can be met in the best way by 
diffusing a deep and wide- spread knowledge of the truest 
socialistic principles among the people. Hence the propaganda 
of Christian Democracy was instituted by Leo XIII. The next 
Pope must carry this work to its - fullest perfection. The next 
Pope must be one who will extend a warm hand of greeting 
to the throngs who have been born amidst Protestantism and 
who now are as sheep without a shepherd. Organized Prot- 
estantism is fast going to pieces, and unless the next Pope 
opens wide the door of the church to the wandering flocks 
they will be led away into poisonous pastures. The next Pope 
should have an intimate knowledge of the great English-speak- 
ing races, where the church is as strong as it is anywhere else in 
the world. Leo frequently recognized the strength of Catholi- 
cism among the English-speaking people, and frequently 
affirmed that " America is the future." A mere nationalistic 
Pope, who would not be able to rise above the provincialism 
of his own race, would be, humanly speaking, a disaster. The 
next Pope should be one who would be able to open out the 
resources of truth and the wealth of religion that there is in 
the bosom of the church, and bid all nations come unto her, es-^ 
pecially those who are without a knowledge of God, to drink of 
, the living fountains. 

The names of Rampblla and Gotti and Serafino Vanutelli 
and Satolii and Sarto and Ferrara are most frequently men- 
tioned. 

Cardinal Rampolla, the present Secretary of State, has been 
an alter ego of Leo, is in touch with his ideas, and is intimately 
acquainted with his most secret policies. He is, moreover, a 
man of profound piety and deep religious spirit. He may be 
depended on to carry out the projects of Leo XIII. in all their 
detail. Were he elected his reign would be in touch with 
progress. 

Cardinal Gotti is a Carmelite, a man who has been trained 
to the religious life. All his life he has been a close student 
and a man of prayerful and devout spirit. He has held many 
high and responsible positions. In the pursuit of duty he has 
visited our western world; at one time was Delegate Apostolic 
to Brazil. Though he has not been in touch with high poll- 



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586 THE PAPACY NEVER DIES. . [Aug., 

tics as some of his confreres in the College of Cardinals have 
been, still it is said that the Kaiser has expressed the greatest 
admiration for him and has given it oat that he would be 
pleased if Cardinal Gotti was the one selected. Gotti has 
come from the very loins of the people, and if he were the 
next Pope it would be altogether likely that strong sympathies 
would be established between him and the common people. 
The many social questions that need the bold hand of religious 
leadership for their solution may find such vigorous treatment 
in Cardinal Gotti. 

Cardinal SatoUi is a profound theologian, having been 
most of his life a professor. He has, moreover, been in touch 
with life other than Italian, and he professes to love America 
very much. It is quite certain that his residence in this coun- 
try has given him larger knowledge of the great races of the 
world. Moreover he has been a close student of Leo, and he 
has absorbed not a little of his broad and comprehensive 
spirit. 

But a truce to all these vain prognostications. When the 
door of the Conclave shuts behind the last cardinal, the in- 
trigues of the world are shut out. There will be no vetos 
from the civil power, for more than ever is the Church sepa- 
rated from the civil power, and more than ever is she in touch 
with the people. The Catholics of the world are able to con- 
template the future with greater equanimity and with a larger 
hope than ever in the history of the church. In some few 
places the church may be in sore straits, but never before has 
there been such world-wide loyalty to the See of Rome, or 
such profound enthusiasm for the advancement of religion. 
They who have assisted during the last few years at the great 
ceremonies of the Pontifical Jubilee, and have seen the multi- 
tudes from every race and country, and have realized that sen- 
sation of greatness and strength and energy that seemed latent 
in the throngs that filled the grandest basilica on earth, and 
have witnessed the deep feeling of world-power and universal 
supremacy that possessed the hearts of the people, as the 
white phantom of the Pope passed along like an apparition, 
have no element in their vision of the future that proclaims 
anything but glorious success and increasing greatness for the 
Church of Christ. 



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1903.] Prayers, Old and New. 587 



PRAYERS. OLD AND NEW. 

BY REV. LUCIAN JOHNSTON. 

^H£ Bishop of Arras, when congratulating M. 
L^on Gautier on the appearance of the latter*s 
Choix de prieres d'apres Us MSS, du IXe au 
XVIIe siicle, remarked that these old prayers 
had a "precision and firmness which are rarely 
met with in modern books of devotion." This sentiment is likely 
to meet considerable approval from those Catholics who cannot 
avoid being struck with the hazy sentimentality, lack of virility, 
of true inspiration, of naturalness, marring so many of the 
prayers in our manuals of devotion. Perhaps nothing indicates 
more sharply the difference between the spirit of modern and 
that of mediaeval piety than a comparison between the prayers 
of each. To the reflecting mind such a comparison will not 
seem altogether useless if it result in injecting into our prayers 
some of the old-time virility. The present writer has such an ob- 
ject in view — to call attention to the long- forgotten but none the 
less beautiful prayers of Catholics who, though less highly civilized 
than we of to-day, yet possessed a faith more healthy in many re- 
spects. I mean the prayers of Chivalry — chiefly the real Catholic 
Chivalry of the days of Hildebrand and Godfrey de Bouillon* 

A separate essay would be required to describe adequately 
the piety of that age. Suffice here to state in general that its 
distinguishing characteristic was simplicity, almost child-like. 
The knight, despite his many faults, was deeply religious; 
hearing Mass every morning, reciting when possible parts of 
the Divine Office, going to confession when needful, and so on. 
But in all this his devotion was inexpressibly naive, objective, 
undoubting. The saints — Martin, Gabriel, Michael — were con- 
crete realities. They fought by his side in battle. God was a 
real father in whom he had a child's trust. For instance, what 
a typical picture is that of the old knight who, when sending 
forth into the world his young son, with no equipment but 
four sous, a horse and rusty armor, said simply by way of 
encouragement, " God is in heaven " ; to which the younger 
replied with equal faith, "Though you have nothing, God has 

VOL, LXXYII. — 38 



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S88 PRAYERS, Old and New. [Aug., 

enough." Or note the quaint names for God, who is the 
" God who makes the heavens and the morning dew, who never 
lies, who makes the rose in May, who makes all the knights, 
who is the Beau Sire," and so on; likewise for the Blessed 
Virgin, the " pucelle sans peci^. Dame belle." These and a 
thousand more instances indicate unmistakably how their piety 
was ever natural, unaffected, trustful, the piety almost of chil- 
dren, inexpressibly sweet and musical in the old Langue d'Oil, 
and in its successor, the later French. 

Hence their prayers breathe the same spirit of naivet^. But, 
to be clear, we should distinguish between prayers and prayers. 
Here there is little reference to the official prayers of the church, 
although a study of even them would show how much more 
natural they are than some of the newer ones in the latest 
offices of recently canonized saints. Here, then, we are speak- 
ing of the prayers of the people. These are of two classes. 
Some were read from prayer-books; the others were com- 
posed by the Trouveres and are to be found only in their 
poetry — i. e,, the Chansons de Geste. 

First of the latter kind, composed for the most part during 
the eleventh and twelfth centuries — the best before c. 1250. 

Now, it may seem strange to go to poetry for prayer^ 
But remember that'^in those days poetry was not so divorced 
from religion as it is now. As M. Gautier says, the author of 
the Chanson on Roland (the strongest of them all) " prays in 
his verse as he prays in real life." He carries into poetry the 
customs, the faith, the very language of his daily intercourse 
with men. He had not two religions — one for poetry, another 
for his meditation. He did not derogate from the beauty of 
Christianity by kneeling before truth. He was not double, 
but simple in all the innate beauty of the word.* Moreover 
he was a man of the people, not a literary dilettante writing 
for the cultured few. He wrote for the people, sang to them, 
and therefore logically echoed their thoughts. Hence when he 
put prayers into the mouths of his heroes — Charlemagne, 
Roland, Oliver, William au Court- nez — he composed them in 
the same spirit and often in the same words as the real men 
of his day would have composed them and did compose them. 
We are, therefore, justified in taking them as a faithful picture 
of the prayers in actual use despite their poetical form. 

* Lldit Religieuse dans la Poisie £pigue du Moym Age, p. 34. 



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1903.] Prayers, Old and New. 589 

Now, what are their characteristics ? Naivet^, objectivity, 
virility, naturalness, simple beauty. The best prayer, said one 
of the Trouv^res, is that which the " heart puts in the 
mouth." But the hearts of these crusaders were the hearts of 
children — simple and child-like. Hence the striking objectivity 
of their prayers. In vain we search for introspective mysticism, 
minute analysis of virtue or vice, scholastic laboring after 
theological terms and distinctions. But everywhere facts — i. /., 
events of the Old and New Testaments — ^Jonas and the whale, 
^ Daniel amidst the lions, Lazarus raised from the dead, Peter 
delivered from prison, Mary Magdalen washing the feet of 
Christ, all the better if they be miraculous — such are the. things 
our overgrown mediaeval children think about and talk about 
in their prayers, preludes of course to the usual petition for 
forgiveness and grace.* 

Here is a specimen of how one of them — say, Godfrey or Tan- 
cred — would have prayed if he composed the prayer. Like us, 
he might have knelt down with joined hands. More often he is 
represented in old paintings and sculpturings as standing erect 
with outstretched arms, or lying prostrate on the ground face 
downward and turned to the East — ^toward the tomb of Him 
for whom he was to leave home and family, and shed his 
blood or die of disease and thirst on some arid plain in Syria 
or some mountain fastness of Cappadocia. Then he prays thus : 

First he salutes the glorious Father who made the world 
and Adam out of slime "avec sa pair" Eve. Then follows in 
succession a rapid r^sum^ of the first fall, of the murder of 
Abel, of the wanderings of the "baron Abraham," of the sav- 
ing of Jonas from the deep, of the salvation of Daniel from 
the lions. Then with a bound he is in the New Testament — 
the Annunciation, the Birth, with all the pretty little legends, 
such as that of the animals adoring the Babe ; the three kings ; 
Anastasia, the wpman without hands who assisted the Virgin in 
her delivery (a touch of delicacy worthy of a more cultured 
age), and for which service God miraculously restored to her 
the " plus beles mains que seraine ne f£e " ; Lazarus resusci- 
tated ; Peter delivered ; above all, the story of the Magdalen, 
type of penitents of whom he says so naively that " elle 
s'approcha de toi, tout doucement, a la cel^e; la fontaine du 
coeur lui monta aux yeux et, a defaut d'autre ros^e, elle te 

• La Chivalerii, by Ldon Gautier, pp. 99-40 ; 539-40. 



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590 Prayeks, Old and New, [Aug.^ 

lava les pieds de ses larmes " ; then the story of the crucifixion. 
Finally, the conclusion from all this narration : ** I trust in 
Thee, O God: I trust in my stout heart which you gave, in 
my good sword, in my swift horse, but above all in Thee."^ 
Then follows the universal formula which gives a meaning ta 
these facts : " If all I have narrated be true " (and he never 
djubts), "if it be true, Seigneur, that I believe it true, listen to 
the prayers offered to you for me by the Lady of Paradise. 
Glorieus sire P^re." 

Such in a few lines is a r^sum^ of at least a hundred 
prayers in these old poems. Note the objective, historical 
quality.. Of course not all were as long as this, though some 
actually were so. But in all we notice the utter absence of 
introspection. There is no self-analysis, no torturing vivisec- 
tion of the heart, no theological precision of dogmatical ex- 
pression. We are listening to a great, overgrown boy who is 
going through what he learned at his mother's knee, or seen 
in the mellow light of the glorious windows in the near-by 
cathedral, or perhaps spelled painfully out of some precious 
manuscript taken out of its iron-bound chest on great feast 
days. He sees these facts and so believes them. And because 
they are true, because God has in times past saved Jonas and 
Lazarus and Peter, so he trusts God will save him also from 
that terrible Hell of actual fire which ever flares up in his 
imagination. Thus prayed the great knight Roland, as he lay 
dying at Roncevaux : 

" O notre vrai P^re, dit-il, qui jamais ne. mentis 
Qui ressucitas saint Lazare d'entre les morts, 
Et defendis Daniel contre les lions, 
Sauve, sauve mon ame et defends-la contre tous perils 
A cause des p^ches que j*ai faits en ma vie." 

Saying which he holds up to God his gauntlet as a token of 
his feudal submission to the eternal Seigneur, and Gabriel 
receives it, together with Michael and all the other angels who 
carry his soul to " the holy flowers of Paradise." 

Could anything be more child-like ? And how different from 
a modern prayer! 

Let the reader, however, not misunderstand me as insinuat- 
ing that these poetical 'effusions actually occurred. No. They 
are the outcome of the poet's imagination. All I maintain is 



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1903.] Prayers, Old and New. 591 

that the eleventh' and twelfth century knight prayed like this 
when he composed his ow^ prayers, as he frequently did, be- 
cause the mediaeval Trouvere always portrayed things as he 
saw them. He dressed up ancient people in his own habili- 
ments. Alexander he armed as he saw Godfrey armed. And 
so he made the mythical Roland pray as he himself prayed, 
and all other brave knights of his day. 

Besides these impromptu prayers there were, of course, 
others in the numerous books of devotion. A study of these 
is more practical because they are within easy reach of the 
modern reader. 

With them comes a slight change. There is less superstition 
and more of precise theology, less of fact and more of doctrine, 
less of legend and more of self-analysis. In a word, less 
objectivity, naivete, naturalness, childishness. The head now is 
beginning to suggest the words in place of the heart. We are 
nearer to our own prayers. 

Take, for instance, the favorite prayer to be found in every 
manual, the "Obsessio," or night-prayer to the Blessed Virgin, 
who is asked for the gift of "this divine grace which will be 
the protectress and mistress of my five senses, which will make 
me perform the seven works of mercy, believe in the twelve 
articles of faith ani practise the ten commandments, and which 
in fine will deliver me from the seven capital sins even to the 
last day of my life'* {ib. 545). How different? We seem to 
be reading a St. Vincent's manual of the eleventh century. 

Yet withal these prayers retained much of the freshness 
described above; a further proof, by the way, that the prayers 
of the Trouveres rested upon an historical basis. Take up now 
the prayers culled by M. Gautier from the ancient MSS. from 
the ninth to the seventeenth centuries printed in the book 
mentioned in the beginning of this paper. 

The very first — a morning, or rather a dawn prayer — is as 
fresh as the very morning when it is to be recited : " See how 
the dawn heralds the day. See how the earth is drunk with 
dew. May God penetrate us with the dew of his grace. The 
day ! Behold the day ! O Jesus, eternal sun ! dart upon us thy 
rays. To you. Light of Light, to you we call with all our 
strength. In the transports of our joy we sing Thy praises; 
though our tongue can never tell all that the heart feels." In 
the old French this is inexpressibly sweet. Even in this literal 



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592 PRAYERS, Old and New. [Aug., 

translation enough remains of the naivet^, it is hoped, to give 
some idea of the original's beauty. In the "Light of Light" 
there is just a suspicion of refined intellectuality, but the rest is 
natural, as fresh as the morning air, sweet like an old rose- 
vine climbing up to greet one at day-break, bright and lumi- 
nous and bathed in color as th« dawn itself. Here again we 
feel the poet's delicate sense of natural beauty. He is, in fact, 
none other than one of the most musical of mediaeval poets, 
Adam of St Victor. And yet critics blandly tell us that 
nature was a sealed book to the men of the Middle Ages. 

Or take this instance from an eighth century Gothic missal — 
a prayer on the Holy Innocents : ** In the depth of the Gentile 
winter the church opens these first buds : the storm of perse- 
cution crushes them. These infants were too small to speak, 
yet by the sword they gave glory to God. Dead, they pro- 
claimed that glory which living they could not speak. They 
spoke with their blood, not being able to speak with their 
tongues." What a pretty conceit — the first buds, the first spring 
flowers of Christ's fair garden nipped by the frost of unbelief. 

Then, too, how naively patriotic is this prayer for France, 
the land "chosen by God, that it may never fail to perform 
the sublime mission entrusted to it." Our " Prayer for the 
Authorities" reads as dry as an arithmetical problem beside 
this fresh, manly appeal for a beloved country. And by the 
way, I recommend this prayer to all those who go out of their 
way to throw cold water upon everything American in con- 
Bection with the church and who are never tired of accusing 
us of conceit. We have at least not yet called ourselves God's 
" chosen " people, yet a fourteenth century Frenchman did so, 
and none thought the less of him for doing it. 

Instances could be selected indefinitely showing the freshness 
of these prayers, many of which are, it is well to keep in mind, 
taken as well from the church's liturgy as from prayer-books. 
But three merit closer attention, since their subject and style and 
spirit serve so well to illustrate the general argument of this paper. 

The first is a prayer for an artist. Now, is not this very 
thought characteristic of the Middle Ages, with their all-embrac- 
ing Catholicity — or better still, humanity ? What a sane view of 
life, what a delicate perception of the most intangible, fleeting 
wants of the human heart is this mere suggestion that an artist 
should pray as an artist ? — and so it runs, beginning " Thou 



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»903.] PRAYERS, OLD AND NEW. 593 

art beauty, O my God ! Thou dost reflect thyself in all things, 
and I labor to reflect Thee in my works " ; and concludes : 
** At the hour of my death may St. Luke, St. Lazarus, St. 
Cecily, Fra Angelico, and St. Augustine be by my pillow and 
lead me to the bosom of that light and of that beauty towards 
which, O God ! I yearn ceaselessly." Verily some of us of 
to-day have lost the art of making our faith beautiful. Some 
of us are not Catholic in the full, glorious sense, but ever the 
same, at a dead level, numbered, ticketed, labelled. The 
spontaneity, versatility, humanity of the Middle Ages have given 
place only too often to a stereotyped sameness without feeling. 

Our next illustration is a prayer for an orphan. '' I know, 
O my God ! that the word, orphan, is not Christian. There is 
no one down here who has not a father in heaven who is God, 
a mother who is the Virgin, without mentioning Holy Church, 
who is also our mother. O my God ! I am still all prostrated 
by the blow that has fallen upon me ; but I lift up my eyes to 
heaven, I resign myself, I hope. I will see again in heaven 
not only the souls but even the very faces of my father and 
mother. I will see again the dear face of my mother as she 
bent smiling over my cradle throughout my infancy," etc. 
What a charming union of faith and resignation with the more 
natural, human virtue of filial love? What a touching bit of 
poetry is the reference to the mother as she bent smiling over 
the cradle of her child ? One would read a long way in the list 
of prayers in a modern prayer-book before finding such a 
charming little pen-and-ink sketch. Then, too, so short. The 
modern orphan might sentimentalize for pages in an abstract, 
forced fashion over his dead parents. This mediaeval child tells 
all in eight or ten lines; paints his feelings with a few bold 
strokes, and there is his heart beating with warm blood. More- 
over there is a manly dignity about him. He is no snivelling 
devotee, cringing before the world because of his poverty, but 
proud as the next with the consciousness that he is a son of 
God, of Holy Mother Church, and thereby the equal of any 
one. Our last illustration is a prayer for the newly wedded. 
It is so delicate in expression that I have not attempted a 
translation : 

"Voici que nos deux mains s'el^vent a vous, unies pour la 
premiere fois, mais moins entrelac^es, moins unies que nos deux 
imes. . . . Hier encore chacun de nous vous servait dans 



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594 PRAYERS, OLD AND NEW. [Aug., 

la solitude d'une devotion facile et qui n'avait point de respon- 
sabilit^; mais aujourd'hui il faut que nous vous servions a 
deux : il faut que notre amour pour vous se double sans se 
diviser, et chacun de nous vous r^pond de salut de Tautre. 

. . . Protegez surtout cette enfant " (here the husband is 
speaking) '*que voici, qui a re^u en partage une faiblesse 
gracieuse que ma force serait insuffisante a garantir. Je le 
place sp^cialement sous votre patronage, Reine des vierges. 

. . . Mais dans cette heure auguste qui communique k 
toutes mes paroles, k toutes les siennes une touchant et ind^l^- 
ble gravity, je viens faire a vos pieds une promesse solennelle, 
vous suppliants de me rejeter de votre face si je viens jamais a 
Tenfreindre. Je vous promets de rendre heureuse cette enfant 
qui s'appuie sur moi, et particulierement je vous promets de 
respecter ce vase pudique. Je vous promets de vivre et de 
mourir pour elle." Then again together: "Nous vous promet- 
tons, Seigneur, de marcher deux a deux, la main dans la main 
et Tame dans Tame au soleil de votre foi — s'il vous plait de 
donner k notre union la couronne d'une heureuse f<6condit^, 
faisant de nos fils des hommes dans toute la force de ce mot, 
et des nos filles des anges afin que — nous arrivions enfin aux 
portes celestes, toujours inseparables," etc. 

When we read this delicate yet frank outpouring of con- 
jugal love united with faith, and then compare it with those 
only too often gross instructions for married people given in 
some of our manuals, we can easily see how much we have 
lost of the oid-time poetry and freshness and humanity which 
made the old prayers so sweet How delicate is that prayer 
of the husband, who calls his bride " cette enfant " ; verily 
enfant by his side. Rude warrior that he is, he nevertheles.<s 
speaks of her with all the grace of a finished poet. He han- 
dles tenderly this beautiful flower all in white entrusted to his 
care. But with true manly humility he mistrusts himself. He 
feels that this poor child with her slender hand trembling in 
his huge fist is somehow above him, purer, a thing of light, 
a precious thing whose very beauty abashes his strength, and 
so he asks the Queen of Virgins to turn her face from him if 
he ever dares to ill-treat, nay, even to abuse, this ''vase 
pudique" for which he swears to live and die; this "faiblesse 
gracieuse qui s'appuie sur moi." Like a bit of precious china 
this frail vase is to be handled tenderly. Keats's " Ode to a 



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1903.] Prayers, Old and New. 595 

Grecian Urn " is not more poetic, more airy, more delicate in 
thought and expression. Marriage for such a man is some- 
thing infinitely higher than a mere '' remedium concupiscen- 
tiae " ; higher yet than that loose union which tends to divorce. 
In fact he had a horror of divorce, and so he prays "our in- 
terlaced hands are not more firmly joined than our souls.'' 
He is also fully conscious of the fundamental duty of the mar- 
ried to raise up, if God so wills, children to praise Him. As 
he quaintly puts it, ** marriage is instituted above all to people 
heaven." Hence a parent's duty is to raise up his daughters 
literally as "angels"; that is, gracious and unsullied in 
womanly beauty of soul, and his sons as " men in the full 
force of that word," knights "sans peur et sans reproche," 
who will realize to the full the perfection of manly courage 
and nobility and gentleness. 

In a word, we have in this prayer the very mirror of 
chivalry at its best. Not indeed of that later fifteenth century, 
degenerate chivalry with its illicit love and silly magic, but the 
good old chivalry of Godfrey and Tancred, which was animated 
by an undoubting faith and beautified with the true love of a 
brave man for a good woman. 

Most of the other prayers have the same ring. As is evi- 
dent, it is an echo of the old Chansons de Geste of the 
Trouv^res; a striking instance of that mediaeval sense of unity 
which joined poetry and piety in one harmonious whole ; of its 
humanity; of its Catholicity, which saw God everywhere, 
whether on the altar, in the tabernacle, or, like the prophet, 
recognized him in the soft breathing of the wind, or, like an 
ancient Greek, caught fleeting glimpses of his beauty in the 
dawn, and the rose, and the morning dew glistening on leaf 
and flower and blade of grass. Yea ! which saw in a maid 
the reflex of the ineffable beauty of the Queen of Virgins, "la 
belle dame, pucelle sans peci^." 

And now, as we turn over the pages of these old manu- 
scripts, it is with a feeling of profound regret that we catch 
the faint echoes of those prayers, — regret that the old-time 
poetry and music have gone out of prayers, leaving the form 
without the soul. Many of our modern prayers are certainly 
beautiful, but the sweet music of a bygone age no longer 
sounds through them, at least for one whose ear is familiar 
with the sweet old Langue d'Oil, or even later French. Beau- 



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59^ PRAYERS, OLD AND NEW. [Aug. 

tiful as they are in some cases, thej have little of that per- . 
fume which exhales from the older as from a bank of violets. 

What is the cause of this inferiority ? They are many and 
deep- lying. Our lack of virile faith, of child-like trust in God, 
our fear of being natural in the face of relentless criticism, our 
love for the. sentimental platitudes of a diluted piety, our di- 
vorce of religion from a fine literary sense and from humanity, 
our suspicion of poetry as applied to devotion, — all these and 
a hundred other causes make us pray so differently from our 
antecessors in the dim age of the Trouv^res, and, as the in- 
scriptions on the catacombs in Rome show, equally different from 
the early Christians like Agnes and Domitilla and Pancratius. 

The remedies ? Verily that is a still more difficult ques- 
tion. However, we suggest two of a rather practical nature. 
The first would consist in translating these prayers from the 
old French, particularly those culled by M. Gautier above 
cited. It looks as if most of our prayers are translations from 
the French anyhow, so we might just as well take the transla- 
tions from a good source, at least until we acquire the ability 
and summon up enough courage to compose our own. 

The next remedy would consist in a plea for precisely those 
kind of prayers which could appeal most powerfully to an 
American. If there is any lesson to be drawn out of a study 
of these old French prayers it is surely this, namely, that they 
are so beautiful simply because they were the prayers of a 
Frenchman praying as a Frenchman. He therefore realized to 
the full the advice of the Trouvfere that the best prayer is the 
one which the heart puts in the mouth. Because he prayed 
from his heart — the gay, tender, simple, and brave heart of a 
mediaeval Frank. His prayers fitted in with his national bent; 
hence their beauty and strength and all-embracing Catholicism. 
Does it not, then, seem the merest common sense on the part 
of those who make our prayers to ever keep in mind the 
character of the people for whom they write ? to strive to keep 
these prayers attuned as far as possible to our habits of 
thought, and to clothe them in vigorous English capable of 
expressing these thoughts in the best possible manner? To 
our way of thinking only in some such way can we even hope 
to inject into our modern prayers the simple beauty and manly 
vigor of the sweet old prayers of Catholic Chivalry. 

Notre Dame College, Baltimore, Md. 



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Loiis Veuillot. 



LOUIS VEUILLOT. 

BY THE REV. E. MYERS. B.A. (Cantab.) 

NCE more the Catholics of France would seem to 
be on the eve of a desperate struggle for the 
freedom of religious education. It cannot (ail to 
be helpful to understand the present state of 
affairs in France to recall the life of one who 
took a prominent part in the last great struggle for religious 
education in France, in 1848. The life of a prominent Catholic 
journalist, such as was Louis Veuillot, must be considered in 




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598 LOUIS VEUILLOT. [Aug., 

the circumstances in which it was lived, and the actual circum- 
stances themselves would be difficult to understand unless we 
made ourselves acquainted with the causes which led up to 
them. Contemporary French politics are almost unintelligible 
to the outsider; the French politics of several generations 
ago need even more explanation to be at all intelligible. 

To understand, then, the social conditions in which Veuillot 
lived and fought, we must recall some of the consequences of 
the great Revolution of '93. Religion was indeed at a very low 
ebb in France after the revolutionary storm had passed, up- 
rooting, for good or for evil, old traditions and old beliefs, over- 
turning alike throne and altar. On their ruins was established 
a form of government for the maintenance of order, in which 
religion, an essential element, was wanting. For years churches 
were put to profane uses ; priests scattered all over Europe ; a 
few faithful ones in hiding braved numberless dangers ior 
the saike of those who sought their ministry; children were 
growing up without any religious teaching; practical atheism 
and free-thought were everywhere the rule. The church as 
represented by her clergy was in disrepute ; it was too much 
identified with the old regime, and with the old regime it was 
cast off. France had apparently forsaken Christianity. The 
Napoleonic Concordat came as a great surprise. It aroused 
the fury alike of Republicans, of Royalists (who thereby lost a 
grievance), of philosophers, and of the Constitutional clergy. It 
also aroused the well-founded mistrust of the few faithful ones. 

Henceforth the clergy were state functionaries; petty des- 
potism was exercised over priests and bishops alike ; after the 
many sad years they had passed through, the clergy were used 
to suffering — not to fighting, and this latter characteristic they 
have retained to the present day. 

Both the Revolution and the Consulate had respected the 
rights of parents to the extent that they were free to send their 
children to whatever schools they liked — religious or secular ; 
the Empire swept this away. 

Education became a state monopoly, and henceforth masters 
were selected without any regard to their religious opinions. 
Moreover no ecclesiastical rank could be obtained by any who 
had not passed through the Imperial University and been 
moulded by its professors. 

Napoleon's fall and the return of the Bourbons was the sig- 



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1903.] 



Louis Veuillot. 



599 




\ 



V" 



Lacordaire as a Young Man. 



nal for Catholic rejoicing — the reign of Faith seemed to have 
returned. Religion was free, and patronized. But the Revolu- 
tion had done its work but too well ; it had succeeded in 
crushing the faith out of the country, a generation of atheism 
and scepticism was not to be Christianized by Louis XVIII. 
calling France ** a Catholic Kingdom " ; on the contrary it 
merely provoked derisive laughter, and government religious 
action produced a spirit of antagonism knd aggravated the evil 
it sought to cure. Schools, it is true, were everywhere re- 
opened. Christian teachers were found, but pupils were wanting. 
Then burst forth the Revolution of 1830, and once more 



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6oo LOUIS Veuillot. [Aug., 

France found herself without a system of religious education; 
a remarkable spirit of apathy pervaded all classes after this 
last outburst; the country seemed worn out by the excesses 
of past years. Still there were some restless spirits who chafed 
at the inaction ; of the number was De Lamennais, the great 
prophet of the period. 

Until [828 the Catholic press did not exist in France. In 
that year " Pfere " BaiUy, as the old man was called by his 
young friends, started the Correspondant, It appeared three 
times a week, and was distributed free to those who could be 
got to take it. The Correspondant was killed by De Lamennais' 
short-lived UAvenir in 1830; but Pere Bailly, seeing the dan- 
ger of UAvenir, founded the Tribune Catholique^ giving it away, 
every second day, to any who would read it. 

It was in the office of the Tribune Catholique that, in 1833, 
Ozanam founded the "Society of St. Vincent of Paul." The 
care of the printer's devils was the first " Patronage Work." 

The fight around De Lamennais was waxing fierce; his 
wounded pride embittered his mind and warped his judgment. 
He was the first to inaugurate in Catholic controversy that en- 
venomed, violent, and aggressive style which has since become 
an institution in France, and has done so much harm to charity 
even when accompanied by well-meaning zeal and undeniable 
talent. 

The need of a Catholic daily paper was making itself felt; 
the Abbe Migne came from the country to Paris, a friend loaned 
him ;^i,400, Bailly gave up the Tribune Catholique and found 
writers, and on November i, 1833. the Univers was founded. 

The fall of De Lamennais scattered his friends; but ever 
since the Avenir had been given up, in 1832, Montalembert 
and Lacordaire had never ceased to carry on a vigorous cam- 
paign for the freedom of education; their efforts culminated in 
1842 in the formation of a "Catholic Party" under the presi- 
dency of Montalembert ; Louis Veuillot was an ardent member. 
"Ce Veuillot m'a ravi," wrote Montalembert in 1842, "voili 
un homme scion mon coeur." 

This is practically Veuillot*s first public appearance as a 
Catholic ; he was then about thirty years of ago. 

Born in 181 3, the son of a poor cooper who had lost his 
savings, he came to Paris with his parents. There he went to 
school under a drunken schoolmaster, who used the boys as 



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t903.] 



LOUIS VEUILLOT. 



60 1 



messengers to carry round the volumes of his not very savory 
lending-library — which the boys took good care to read on the 
way. 

At the age of thirteen he was a clerk in a solicitor's office, 
at twenty francs a month ; he was free and independent, with- 
out any religious education. The office of his master, Fortune 




PfeRE Gratry, of the Fkench Oratory. 
de la Vigne. was the business place of many men of letters 
and dramatists. The clerks were occasionally called upon to 
give a clap on first nights ; they lived in a more or less literary 
atmosphere, talked of the men they met, read their works, imi- 
tated their style. 

In 183 1 one of his fellow-clerks became a journalist. Veuil- 
lot, without any further preparation, followed him, and soon 
found himself on the staff of an opposition paper at Rouen, for 
which he had to produce the gossip column. The result was 
at least two duels. In 1832 he left Rouen for Perigieux, where 
his violent polemics involved him in a third duel. 



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6o2 Louis Veujllot, [Aug., 

It was in 1837 that Veuillot returned to Paris, and under 
Guizot, and later under Thiers, took an active part in political 
journalism of the aggressive type. 

In 1839 he set out for Constantinople, but got no further 
than Rome. There he found the faith, and returned to Paris a 
Catholic. 

The fiery energy he had displayed in his irreligious political 
journalism he now devoted to furthering the Catholic cause, and 
soon made his way to the front rank of Catholic writers; at- 
tached to the staff of the Univers, his cutting articles spared 
neither friend nor foe. 

Montalembert, as we have seen, had for years been fighting 
with all comers for the cause of educational liberty, when Veuil- 
lot joined the ranks of his followers. As long as the question 
was the broad one dealing with the vindication of Catholic 
rights there was general agreement. 

On February 24, 1848, the Revolution broke out. Louis 
Napoleon was elected President, and as he felt under some ob- 
ligation to the Catholic Party, Montalembert's friend De Falloux 
was appointed minister of education. This brought the ques- 
tion of '* Freedom of Education " into the range of practical 
politics. 

De Falloux's position as a minister was a very delicate one : 
he was pledged to do what he could for the insignificant 
Catholic minority; on the other hand, he was confronted by a 
compact irreligious majority. After much discussion a compro- 
mise was arrived at, and it was resolved that the state should 
have the monopoly of conferring university degrees ; the rest of 
the educational field was to be free. 

Considering the circumstances, it seems almost incredible 
that there should have been any hesitation in the Catholic ranks 
as to the course to be pursued ; Montalembert, Dupanloup, 
Lacordaire, the men who had fought the good fight when the 
future seemed so dark, were overjoyed. They eagerly seized 
the offered concessions as the very best they could ever hope 
to obtain. It was never the church's position in dealing 
with civil societies to insist upon everything or nothing. 

Yet it was on this question that the Catholic Party split — 
never more to be reunited. 

Veuillot, with the fiery ardor of the new convert, would 
have no half measures; he would have full Catholic rights or 



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Lacordaire, with his lofty Ideals, drew others with him. 

nothing at all ; he would accept nothing which did not include 
the power of conferring degrees. 

Using the Univers as his mouthpiece, he fiercely attacked 
his former leader, and accused Montalembert of being false to 
his previous convictions. His opponent's position he stigma- 
tized as un-Catholic, and claimed for himself the character of 
exclusive orthodoxy. 

But Rome did not identify itself with this uncompromising 
champion ; on the contrary, the Pope, through the nuncio, 
expressed his gratitude for the part taken by Montalembert in 
the passing of the Education Law. 

A measure of religious liberty had been gained, but the 
Catholic Party was now hopelessly divided against itself, and 
clergy and laity took sides in the struggle which was to en- 

VOL. LXXVIl.— 39 

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604 LOUIS VEUILLOT. [Aug.^ 

tirely neutralize Catholic influence in the councils of the 
nation. 

From education the quarrel spread to " Modern Ideas " in 
general, and all along the line Veuillot took up the position 
of aggressive opposition, insisting upon the absolute rights of 
the church. He would accept from his adversaries nothing 
less than humble submission ; there could be nothing in com- 
mon between the children of light and the children of dark- 
ness ; no good could come from without the church ; all that 
was good must be sought within. Catholics, then, must keep 
from contact with the wicked world — for there was no good in 
modern progress. 

On the other hand, Montalembert and Lacordaire saw that 
no good would come out of such antagonism ; they sought a 
modus Vivendi, and a place for Catholics in the national life. 
In opposition to the Univers, the Correspondant expounded the 
moderate view, that after all not everything in the modem 
spirit was bad. Its aim was, as its promoters said, " to entertain 
no feeling for any one but good will and tender compassion." 

For some years the Abbe Gaume had been carrying on 
an obscurantist campaign against the teaching of the pagan 
classics in Catholic seminaries, and in favor of substituting the 
Fathers. To the use of the classics of pagan times, to the 
influence of Plato and Aristotle, Gaume ascribed all the evils 
that had ever come upon Christendom. Veuillot took up the 
matter with his customary vigor, and in unmeasured terms 
attacked the defenders of the classics — of course, it may be 
noted by the way he himself had never read them. 

The Correspondant urged the common sense view of com* 
bining the study of the pagan and Christian classics, a solu- 
tion of the question afterwards given by Pius IX. in his en- 
cyclical published in 1853. 

Before Rome condemned this revolutionary proposal Veuillot 
came into conflict with Mgr. Dupanloup, the learned Bishop of 
Orleans, who in a pastoral had set before his clergy the Catho- 
lic tradition as to the use of the classics. Veuillot criticised 
the pastoral in his usual personal and vigorous manner, and 
was quickly met by an episcopal condemnation, and the clergy 
of the diocese were forbidden to read the Univers. 

Immediately following on the classics question came the 
(Jelation of the Univers to the Archbishop of Paris, for holding 



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Louis Veuillot, 



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P£:re Ravignan, SJ. 

numerous philosophical errors. Veuillot was accused of hold- 
ing amongst other errors tri-theism, Baianism, fatalism, and 
pseudo-traditionalism. The Archbishop of Paris examined the 
charges, and condemned the Univers in severe terms. This 
condemnation was the signal for five or six bishops to join in 
the attack. All this time Veuillot, was in Rome ; there his 
loyalty to Rome was well known. The Pope stood too much 
in need of defenders in France to care much for the technical 
charges brought against Veuillot; after all he was not a 
philosopher, and knew but little of the subtleties men read 
into his writings. The Holy Father sent a letter to the Arch- 
bishop of Paris recommending the religious press and its lay 
writers to his kind protection, and the Archbishop withdrew 
the censure. 



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6o6 LOUIS VEUILLOT, [Aug., 

This same year, 1853. Montalembert made a last effort to 
reunite the Catholic Party ; but without success, and so he 
retired from the struggle. His failure to regain the leadership 
of the party left Veuillot and his followers unopposed. 

We have already noted the influence De Lamennais had 
had on the French Catholic press as a whole ; some of the 
most brilliant of his followers were on the staff of the Univers^ 
and their influence on its editor soon became apparent There 
was the constant denunciation of the " errors of the day " ; 
there was that bitter hatred of compromise of any kind, and, 
Anally, that fierce aggressiveness which marred alike the best 
work of De Lamennais and Veuillot. All this time the Italian 
question had been very much to the fore. As long as Louis 
Napoleon was true to the Pope Veuillot supported him; when 
it became apparent that the Pope was to be sacrificed to 
Piedmont, when Pius IX. launched forth his eloquent denun- 
ciations of those who were wronging him, Veuillot was not 
the man to stand by and look on. In the thick of the fray 
he dealt hard blows at the government; and, in spite of all 
Napoleon's efforts, published the Papal encyclical denouncing 
him. The result was that the Univers was suppressed by im- 
perial decree in January, i860. It was almost immediately 
replaced by the Monde, and in it Veuillot continued his cam- 
paign with more moderation where the government was con- 
cerned, but with the same bitterness against his Catholic op- 
ponents. 

In 1 86 1 the party of which he was the mouthpiece were 
active in Rome urging on the Holy Father to some stringent 
condemnation of modern errors — and they succeeded. Its com- 
ing was an open secret; its publication as eagerly longed for 
by one section as it was dreaded by the other; again and 
again the Pope was requested to refrain from publishing it. 
But it was not to be so, and on December 8, 1864, the Sylla- 
bus appeared. 

Of course the Monde gloried in it, and interpreted it in its 
own way — without any theological reservations or explanations 
whatever. It was assumed that the condemnations were all 
directed against the Catholics who did not agree with Veuillot ; 
it was hailed as the death blow of Montalembert and the Cor- 
respondant : Louis Veuillot himself put it forward as a triumph 
for his own particular views regardless of the fact that the 



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technical language of the document ought to be interpreted in 
the light of theological traditions. 

The result was disastrous. The church was made to appear 
to have declared war upon modern civilization and modern 
ideas as a whole. 

To unreflecting men it seemed that Veuillot and Gaume had 




Cardinal Perraud. 

persuaded the Pope to fulminate eighty propositions against 
the " errors of the age " ; in other words, against the common- 
places of modern life. Dupanloup as a trained theologian was 
up in arms at once and protested vigorously against Veuillot's 
exaggerations ; and then it was that began the last stage of 
the struggle which culminated in the Vatican's decree of 1870. 
Devotion to Rome through thick and thin was the passion 
of Veuillot's life; and one cannot help admiring him for it, 



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6o8 Louis Veuillot. [Aug., 

however much one may condemn his exaggerations, and detest 
his methods. 

But, as has already been said, Veuillot was in no sense of 
the word a philosophic thinker; Rome was his guiding star, 
his last argument in every case. His share in the great cen- 
tralizing movement which took place from 1860-70 was a 
great one. 

The movement had been begun by De Lamennais, whose 
watchword had been "freedom'' as against Gallican tyranny, 
and " the Papacy " as the protector of religious freedom. 

But Veuillot's advocacy of centralization and direct appeals 
to Rome had led to disparagement of episcopal authority. 

As early as 1844 Mgr. Affre had deplored the tone of the 
Univers as /'most offensive," as "intolerably arrogant." 

His successor confessed the Univers had more authority 
over his clergy than he had himself. Archbishop Sibour pro- 
tested that '' bishops and priests are being insulted under pre- 
tence of avenging the Holy See." But in spite of all, the 
Univers successfully defied the bishops — and not all had the 
courage or the ability of a Dupanloup to defend themselves. 

In 1869 Mgr. Dupanloup thought the episcopate had stood 
his insults, end taunts, and personalities long enough, and pub- 
licly attacked Veuillot. 

" The time has come," he wrote, " to defend ourselves 
against you. I raise then, in my turn, my voice. ... I 
charge you with usurpations on the episcopate, with perpetual 
intrusions in the most delicate matters ; I charge you above all 
with your excesses in doctrine, your deplorable taste for irri- 
tating questions, and for violent and dangerous solutions ; I 
charge you with accusing, insulting, and calumniating your 
brethren in the faith. None have merited more than you that 
severe word of the Sacred Books, * accusator fratrum.* Above 
all, I reproach you with making the church participate in your 
violences, by giving as its doctrines, with a rare audacity, your 
own personal ideas." 

Following the Vatican Council came the year of disasters 
for France. Under the ruins of the Empire were buried the 
remains of the brilliant Catholic Party of the middle of the 
century; there was no longer a place in the politics of France 
for a Catholic like Veuillot; there was no longer need for 
urging ultramontane ideas — for submission had followed the 



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LOUIS Veuillot. 



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Charles Forbes db Montalembert. 

Defiaition of Infallibility, and the centralizing party triumphed. 
Catholicism once more seemed destined to be stamped out of 
France, anti- Catholic laws followed fast the one on the other; 
and one cannot wonder that the former Catholic leaders lost 
heart : they were so few, their enemies so numerous, so aggres- 
sive, so tyrannical, and moreover they were supported by the 
majority of the nation. 

Veuillot's activity was but slight after 1870, and his closing 
years were not destined to be cheered by signs of the Catholic 
Revival which has characterized French history for the past 
twelve years. He died in 1884. 

His abilities none will deny ; it was as a journalist his best 



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6io Louis Veuillot, [Aug., 

efforts were put forth, and all his writings are stamped with a 
journalistic character; they were polemical works written to 
meet the needs of the hour, and as such they should be judged. 

His want of early training is conspicuous throughout his 
career; he rushes in where angels would fear to tread ; give him 
an idea and he would write a volume of vigorous and frequently 
eloquent prose, but lacking alike in moderation and prudence. 

His ideas rarely rise beyond France and her relations with 
the Holy See. He satirizes and gossips about Renan ; he 
abuses Montalembert and Dupanloup ; his books on Paris, on 
Free-thinkers, are choke-full of proper names. And yet at times 
his writings have a touching beauty quite their own; as, for 
instance, his description of the Sisters of Charity, of the leave- 
taking of the missionaries, and especially his simple letter to 
his nephew on his First Communion. 

Occasionally he rises to higher moods, as when in 1870, at 
the time of the Commune, he wrote : 

'' Material civilization is, after all, infinitely petty and 
infinitely sad. because it touches only the crust of things, 
and leaves the heart of man unchanged. The Revolution has 
. . . brought a new gospel of liberty, equality, and 
fraternity for the healing of nations, and has preached the 
message by the lips of such a John the Baptist as Rousseau, 
and such a Messias as Napoleon. But the result is pitiole. 
The Commune is the heaven to which the Revolution has led 
poor France. She must learn, says Louis Veuillot, that she has 
been going, not towards heaven but towards hell; she must 
wearily go back to the old guidance of the church if she would 
escape a destruction infinitely worse than Sedan or Paris in 
flames. She must learn once more the simple duty of obedience 
to an inscrutable will, and of faith in an unseen Redeemer. 
Her hope lies in the Vatican. . . ." 

His lot was cast in difficult days, but he ever did his duty 
as it appeared to him ; and what greater praise can any man 
deserve ? His personal devotion to Pius IX., and the enthusias- 
tic admiration with which the Holy Father inspired him, led 
him to write many bitter things which had better have been 
left unwritten, led him to utter insults against men who had 
never deserved them. In this he erred, and erred grievously ; 
we condemn his errors of judgment, his want of prudence, his 
lack of moderation ; and we deplore his want of charity. 



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1903] Lives Hallowed by Faith. 611 




LIVES HALLOWED BY FAITH. 

BY MINNA CLIFFORD. 

fHEY were such friends those four — the tiny Eng- 
lish boy and girl, the old Breton man and wo- 
man. How distinctly the day comes back to 
me which saw the beginning of that quaint 
friendship. A ball tossed high in the children's 
garden flew over the wall, bounced across the narrow lane, and 
rolled through the open door of the little cottage into the dark 
room where Rene lay. Then came an eager rush out of the 
front door of the big white house, a patter of tiny feet, the ex- 
cited tones of childish voices and a pair of small, flushed, bare- 
headed, breathless figures tore round the corner and up the 
muddy lane in search of their lost treasure. 

Oh the delight and relief when old Alexina appeared in the 
doorway with the ball in her hands ! How the babies thanked 
and questioned her; what interest they showed in the exact 
point at which it had bounced through the door ; how fast they 
chattered in their pretty childish French ! 

" It jumped on to Rene's bed ? Oh, how funny ! " '* Who 
was Ren^ ? Might they see him ? " " Was he ill ? " '* They 
would like to thank him too I " 

At first Alexina resisted their entreaties. " Had they not 
better ask ' Madame voire mere ' ? " " What would maman 
say ? " 

"Oh, maman would like us to say 'Thank you.' Please let 
us come in," pleaded the children ; so down the low mud steps 
walked the old woman, the small figures following her. 

Such a dark little room they came into. After the bright 
sunshine without everything was dim and blurred, and only by 
degrees, as their eyes became accustomed to the gloom, did 
things become clearer to the children. Alexina volubly ex- 
plained their presence to her husband, and the little ones moved 
to his bedside and gazed at Rene with big, wondering eyes. 
Such an old, old man, and such a big bed I How pale he was, 
and so thin ; and he wore such a funny old night-cap I So 



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6i2 Lives Hallowed by Faith. [Aug., 

strange he looked that the childten forgot their ball in the in- 
terest and pity which he excited in their little minds. 

" How do you do ? " said the small boy, standing on tip- 
toe, and holding out a tiny brown hand to the occupant of the 
bed. " Are you very ill ? We are so sorry. Will you soon be 
well?" 

" Yes, tnon petit monsieur^ I am very ill. I have been here 
in bed so many, many years. But, que voulez vousf It is the 
will of le ban Dieu ; and Alexina is very good to me." 

" And what do you do all day ? " questioned the child. 
" Cest bien triste, n'est-ce pas f " And so they talked till the 
elder child's conscience began to prick her as she remembered 
the open front door round the corner; and thus, with many 
promises to come again very soon, the pair trotted off, and in 
this manner, as I have said, the friendship began. 

It is good to think of the difference those two bright little 
faces made in the life of the childless old couple. Alexina, on 
toiling back from her poor little marketings, would catch the 
sound of a child's voice in the dark room, and her weary old 
face would break into a smile as her eyes rested lovingly on a 
small, bright-headed figure, perched high upon a gaunt, straw- 
bottomed chair, reading diligently from a gaily-bound fairy-tale 
book to the old invalid, while the hours, which of old had been 
so long and lonely for Ren^, were blessed and gladdened by the 
constant visits of the little ones. 

The children had talked eagerly at home of their new 
friends, and had enlisted the sympathies of older and wiser 
heads, so it came to pass that, by their aid, an easier, brighter 
era opened for the old people. Rene was paralyzed. He had 
been lying there for over twenty years in that little dark room ; 
for more that a score of years had Alexina nursed and tended 
him with loving, gentle care; and now old age was pressing 
heavily upon them both, and Alexina*s failing strength was be- 
ginning to find the struggle to keep the wolf from the door 
almost more than she could manage. How she had worked 
and struggled she alone knew ; many a time the fight had 
been nearly too much for her ; yet the thought of R6n^ sick 
and suffering, needing sorely the help that she alone could 
give, had nerved her to fresh efforts, and once more the vic- 
tory had been won, the dreaded break-down averted. 

Ever since her husband was first stricken, her daily prayer 



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1903.] Lives Hallowed by Faith. 613 

had been that God in his loving mercy should take him before 
her; her one terror lest the strain which she had endured so 
long should prove too severe for further resistance. But both 
R^n^ and Alexina were filled with the sweet, child-like faith of 
the Breton folk, and at the back of all the wife's fears she 
cherished deep down in her heart a feeling of certainty that le 
Son Dieu would never suffer her husband to die alone and 
neglected. And how good God had been to them, she thought, 
for now he had sent his own angels, in the persons of the two 
little innocent children, to bring them help and comfort. Daily 
the blessing brought by these tiny messengers grew to be a 
thing more evident, for as the facts in the two old lives gra- 
dually became known, the extremity of their poverty could no 
longer be hidden, and a dainty meal found its way very often 
from the big white house to the little cottage. Sometimes its 
approach was heralded by shrill childish voices, for the little 
ones' great delight was to bring the food themselves, and as 
the two small figures appeared in the doorway, it was to old 
R^n^ as if a ray of sunlight had somehow slipped down through 
the high, narrow lane into flie dark room. 

One day the children find a grand commotion going on in 
the cottage. Ren6 is hardly to be seen, for all the furniture 
in the tiny place is piled on his bed. Alexina, a large duster 
tied over her white coif, and her rough skirts pinned up round 
her knees, is wielding a broom with feverish energy. The 
panes in the one window are dripping with water. Every- 
where are signs of soap-suds and scrubbing, and in the midst 
of all the confusion Ren^*s old head with its inevitable night- 
cap lies on the pillow, and his voice urges Alexina to even 
greater exertions. The little boy and girl, whose previous im- 
pression of the cottage has been one of drowsy, rather grimy 
tranquillity, stand amazed. Even as they look one of R^n^'s 
cronies, the familiar hens one or other of which is always to 
be seen pecking about the mud floor or hopping on to the bed, 
scuttles gaily in, only to be routed by the most tremendous 
" shooings " from Alexina. What has happened ? Why this 
topsy-turvydom ? And then, as the old woman aided by the 
willing, childish hands begins to restore the room to order, the 
reason for this grand turn-out appears. To-morrow is the first 
Wednesday in the month, and that is the day, says Rene, on 
which *'/f bon Dieu comes to visit me"! Once a month 



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6i4 Lives Hallowed by Faith. [Aug . 

Monsieur T Abbe brings him Holy Communion. " And one must 
do what one can/' says the old man, " to make this poor place 
ready against the coming of the good God." 

" Ah, if Mademoiselle Marie could beg a few flowers for the 
little altar ! " chimes in Alexina, " then she and Monsieur 
Francis could make it all so pretty for le Petit Jesus f " 

'* Oh yes/* cry the children, for as chance will have it they, 
though English, belong to the same faith as their friends, " we 
can make you an altar like the one our maman puts up in our 
nursery during the Mois de Marie^ 

Then away patter the little feet for a willing raid on house 
and garden, and the old couple are presently beaming with 
delight as they see the table which the children have arranged 
for the coming of their dear Lord. 

And what a solemn coming that is which takes place upon 
the following morning! Monsieur TAbbe paces gravely, with 
his eyes bent upon the veiled chalice which contains his Sacred 
Burden, an acolyte in scarlet cassock and white surplice walk- 
ing ahead of him with a swinging lamp and a tinkling bell to 
warn the people that their God is passing by. Through the 
old and crumbling streets the priest passes, and as he goes men 
and women fall upon their knees in silent adoration to let their 
Saviour by. Those who can spare the time from their other 
duties rise when the priest has passed them, and walk rever- 
ently behind him in a tiny procession, and thus le ban Dieu^ 
in even humbler state than that which he assumed that day 
long ago when entering Jerusalem, passes to bring hope and 
comfort to the sick peasant. 

The children are waiting in the little room, kneeling on the 
mud floor, and the boy's pure treble recites the Confiteor. The 
old man lifts his head from the pillow and receives the Body 
of his Lord, and then closes his eyes, lapped in a great con- 
tent. The one event of his life has happened, the wonderful 
miracle which twelve times a year brings peace and comfort 
and courage to the paralytic in his dark cottage. 

It is very touching the simple, firm, unquestioning faith of 
these poor folk. Try for a moment to see with their eyes, to 
understand all that this wonderful thing means to them. God 
Himself has stepped out of heaven, has come in his marvellous 
pity and tenderness to bring solace to one old and stricken 
and forgotten. He has himself been bodily present in the tiny 



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1903.] Lives Hallowed by Faith, 615 

room! It is awful, mysterious, splendid with a splendor that 
is superhuman ! Ye who have it not may well envy the 
wonderful faith that brings such a wealth of poetry into the 
sombre lives of these poor cottagers! 

Time goes on, and ever the friendship between the four cements 
and grows steadfast. Never a toy is given to the children but 
it must be brought round for Ren^ to see ; never a flower 
comes out in the two little round beds of the garden on the 
other side of the lane but Alexina must be dragged off to look 
at the wonderful sight. Day in and day out, while the summer 
months and short winter days go by, Rene lies and listens to 
the clear voices and peals of merry laughter that reach him 
from the children's playground, praying, as the beads of his 
chaplet slip through his wasted old fingers, for ces deux petits 
anges, who have come to brighten these last hours of his life. 

But at last a day comes on which the children bring sad 
news to their old friends. Father and mother are going back 
to England, and very soon the big white house will be empty 
and the bright garden deserted. 

*' But we will come back," say the children, — " we will 
come back soon, so soon, and we shall bring you some cadeaux 
from our pays,** Rene is to have a new night- cap of lovely 
bright colors — blue and red stripes, they think — and Alexina, 
she must have a new shawl for the Nouvel An, But even the 
bright prospect of presently possessing these magnificent things 
fails to bring comfort to the old people when, one lovely sunny 
morning, Alexina stands at the bottom of the little lane watch- 
ing with dim eyes and aching heart the carriage that is carry- 
ing out of their lives the two little figures that she and Rene 
have learned to love so well. 

Other friends came forward with loving care to tend and 
look after the old couple, but the weeks and months slip by 
and drift into years, yet the little English children do not re- 
turn. They send messages and gifts to their old friends, and 
maman has arranged that a regular sum should be paid month- 
ly for Rene's use and comfort; but all the while he grows 
slowly feebler and he suffers more. Always the same sweet 
smile plays on the old face, always there is the same gentle 
gratitude for all that is done for him, yet those who watch see 
that the end is coming very near. At last a morning dawns 
when Alexina, rising early to start off to her daily Mass, finds 



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6i6 Lives Hallowed by Faith. [Aug., 

that God has taken her dear one peacefully and quietly to 
himself. Her prayers are answered, and never again need she 
be possessed by that haunting fear that R^n^ will die alone 
and neglected ; yet as the first keen sorrow of that separation 
from one who has been her timid young lover, then her brave 
young husband, later her dear tried companion, and lastly her 
baby — her helpless child for whom she has cared so tenderly, — 
stabs Alexina's weary old heart, she falls upon her knees by 
the bed, shaken for the moment by a passion of grief, and 
fondling the cold, thin hands, cowed by her own utter loneliness. 

With the great motive of her life thus taken suddenly away 
from her, Alexina's own health begins to break down. She is 
a very old woman, and it is only her love and devotion to 
Ren^ that have kept her from long ago giving in to the 
weight of her years. Gradually she grows feebler and weaker, 
till the day comes when she too is unable to leave her bed. 
So those other friends of hers take her in and care for her. 
The old cottage stands empty now, and the white house 
echoes to the sound of other voices than those which rang 
through it in bygone days. Now and then news reaches 
Alexina of her child friends, and often, as she lies on her bed 
of sickness, she thinks of the little pair who came to brighten 
R^n^'s last days. She wishes that U bon Dieu would let her 
see them once more, and still in the old mind there dwells a 
vivid picture of the two little sunny-faced, bright- haired chil- 
dren. Always she thinks of them as she knew them, — tiny 
mites together, bringing the joy and brightness of their happy 
little lives with them wherever they came and went. And 
thus it happens that when the story comes from across the sea 
to the old woman that one of her "little angels," as she 
fondly calls them, has flown back to the God who sent him, 
Alexina, growing dreamy in her old age, hardly realizes the 
possibility that one should be taken and the other left. More- 
over her own end is, she feels, so near that she turns her 
mind contentedly to the heaven where her R^n^ waits her, 
and where she knows that she will again see her deux petits 
anges. Therefore, when one day the door opens to admit the 
slight, black-robed figure of a girl, Alexina stares in wonder, 
and marvels as to who can be the jeune demoiselle who has 
come to pay her a visit. 

The girl stands there a trim English figure, with the bright 



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1903.] LIVES Hallowed by Faith. 617 

hair, soft, delicately hued cheeks, and graceful carriage that 
belongs to youth. Her little teeth show ever so slightly below 
her short upper lip. Her eyes under their high-arched brows 
are pure and tender, yet have a sadness in them little in keep- 
ing with her age, as she rests them for a moment on the old, 
withered creature in the bed. Then she comes forward smiling. 

** Alexina cherie, dost thou not know me ? *' and, in a 
moment, the old woman understands. How the old face lights 
up ; what a world of love and tenderness is in her cry of 
" Mam'selle Marie"! How eagerly the time-dimmed eyes scan 
the young face ; how tenderly the feeble, withered hands fon- 
dle the soft one clasped in them! And the two sit and talk 
as they talked in the old days; they speak softly of those 
now missing from their number ; and the old woman's love and 
faith comfort the aching, empty heart of the girl, while her 
tender, loving talk of ** noire cher petit ange " soothes her bitter 
grief. 

'' I shall so soon be with them both, Mam'selle Marie," she 
says, " and," she continues, with the trustful simplicity of the 
Breton peasant, '' I shall tell them th^ I have seen you, and we 
shall pray so for you who must stay behind, and then some 
day the good God will bring you to us, and all the sadness 
and sorrow will be gone for ever ! " 

Alexina and her friend, who is still to her the little child 
of the old days, never meet again. The girl, who was only 
passing through Brittany on her way to England, goes back 
to her home, and very soon a letter comes to tell her that 
Alexina's patient, suffering life is over. " She talked of you to 
the end," says the message. " Tell Mademoiselle Marie that 
we shall watch for her coming, and le ton Dieu will surely do 
for her all that we ask of him, when he has loved us so much, 
and has taken three of us to be with him for ever. Be sure 
he will also have a care for the one that is left behind ! " 




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David and Goliajph. 

BY N. J. BELL. 

HE Philistine host lay encamped on the hills, 
And their shields in the sun shone like thousands of 

rills, 
And their battle songs burst from the voices of all, 
For beyond them were waiting the armies of Saul. 

The serfs of the despot glanced down on the morn. 
Where the valleys were fat with the harvests of corn, 
Where the fleece on the fields was as foam on the brine, 
And the vineyards were reeling with rivers of wine. 

They thrilled for the combat, they claimed the command. 
When their fury would leap like a storm on the land; 
Then Israel's hopes, full of terror, took wing. 
And sorrow sat heavy on Israel's king. 

The pride of their legions, Goliath, then came. 
And the troops of the Lord shrank at sound of his name ; 
To the combat he challenged, but vain was his cry. 
For the soul that would meet him was fated to die. 

Behold! from the wilderness David appears, 

The darling of Jesse, the joy of his years; 

He is far from his flocks, and moves wistfully now. 

With the bloom and the beauty of youth on his brow. 

And thus while he strayed along Israel's line. 
Ambition embraced him, and called him divine ; 
In that moment of glory Goliath drew near. 
With haughty bravado, with scowl, and with jeer. 

O'er his ponderous frame brazen armor was spread, 
And a huge, heaving helmet shone high on his head. 
And the blood-seeking spear that he waved at the foe 
Hurled them back by its gleam, without darting a blow. 

Then forward flew David with flowing bright hair. 
And swift as a lion that springs from the lair; 
To the skies rang his voice, and this message of wrath 
Run wild on the winds to the monster of Gath: 



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1903.] Pavid and Goliath. ^ 619 

•' Oh, bane of the righteous ! oh, curse of the just ! 
Think not that all Israel lies in the dust ; 
Think not that all Israel's power has fled. 
That her valor is lost, and her glory is dead ! 

" I come, her defender ; thy boasts I defy ; 
I am come to the combat to conquer or die ; 
Though alone, and unarmored, I haste o'er the spd 
As the page of the king, and the soldier of God. 

" Lo ! Heaven smiles on me, and what can avail 
With the God of the Thunder and Lord of the Gale? 
At His word haughty cities are swept from the land, 
' And the mountains will melt at the touch of His hand! 

" Then rush to thy doom, for thy fate is to fall 
By the Heaven-led blow of the servant of Saul; 
' Like a cedar struck down, thou shalt lunge to the earth. 
And thy severed head clang on the soil of my birth." ? 

The terror^ chilled armies looked on from the green, i 
And the hills in amazement inclined to the scene. 
While the sky-wheeling songsters seemed bushed at a breath, 
: And . the winds moved as still as the angels of death. 

: From the sling of the hero a rugged rojck sped. 
And it leaped for the foe, and it crashed on his head; 

' To the dust he sank reeling, empurpled in gore. 
And he fell 'mid the din of wild Israel's roar. 

His swprd'ljy the victor was wrenched from its place. 
And it sang through the air at a swift, blinding pace^ 
To the throat of the monster unswerving it broke,.. 
And the head from his body was hewn at a stroke. 

With the blood-dripping trophy tossed upward on show, 
All Israel poured on :the fast-fleeing foe, . 
And they crushed them . to earth, and they swept them away. 
For the.great: God of battles was with them that day. 



YOU LXXVII. — 40 

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620 An American GirVs Visit to Valparaiso. [Aug., 




AN AMERICAN GIRL'S VISIT TO VALPARAISO. 

BY M. MacMAHON. 

JT is impossible for one who has never had the 
-; experience to realize the sensations forced upon 
one who sets foot for the first time upon a land 
so far removed from home as distant Chili; 
to find one's self in the midst of a strange peo- 
ple, talking together a language unfamiliar to one's ears, to see 
manners and customs so different £rom-ottrs. Yet glad indeed 
were we to be again on shore. 

Only a few weeks before we had left the sunny slopes^ of 
Peru. Our journey down the coast had been uneventful until 
within a short distance from Valparaiso, when we were over- 
taken by a "norther." For three days within sight of the 
port, but unable to enter, our great vessel tossed like a cockle- 
shell in the power of the tempest. It was an exceptional 
storm, so we were told — that weather which always comes to 
welcome strangers. 

We found Valparaiso almost a ruined city: trains had been 
derailed, houses destroyed, whole families swept down the hills 
and drowned, the streets were flooded in water. Boats were 
used in crossing, or men barelegged and dressed in oil skin 
bore upon their shoulders those brave enough or hardy enough 
to venture out. My first impression of the city was, as may 
be imagined, not too favorable; it improved, however, upon 
acquaintance. This storm was the last of the season, and soon 
the bright summer days drove from our memories every 
thought of the winter and its tempests. 

The name Valparaiso signifies " vale of paradise." The 
long, narrow city extends bow-like around the bay. At its 
feet roll the waters of the broad Pacific, behind it rise the 
rocky cliffs of the Cordilleras. Upon the sandy soil which 
borders the sea and upon this almost perpendicular mountain 
ridge the city is built. I could not but admire the power of 
human enterprise which has made of this place, so little aided 
by nature, a city of importance ; the headquarters of South 



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,3] AN AMERICAN GIRVS VISIT TO VALPARAISOr 621 

American commerce. In the bay, drawn up in lines like men- 
jf-war for review^ are hundreds of vessels bearing the flags of 
every nation on earth; even our own starry banner waves often 
in the breeze. Seen at night from the sea Valparaiso presents 
a most singular appearance. This city of hills, its houses rest- 




Thb Long Branch of Chili. 

ing tier upon tier with their myriad of sparkling lights, reminds 
one of the fa9ade of some immense public building with its 
gala-day illuminations. 

As the city has grown the rocky cliffs have been terraced, 
irregular rows of houses of different shapes and sizes rise up 
against the precipices. It would seem as if a convulsion of 
nature had placed them there, and that a volcanic eruption 
would send them tumbling into the sea. These are reached by 
winding roads which tradition says were laid out by the goats 
that in the early days fed upon thcf mountain sides. I could 
easily credit this, once having climbed these steep ascents, such 
sure-footed agility was needed to gain in safety their rocky 
heights. But once upon them I felt repaid for my trouble. 
The city lay a beautiful panorama below me washed by the 
blue waters of the bay, upon whose bosom rode myriads of 
boats; to my ears faintly came the murmur of its distant 



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622 AN American Girl's Visit to Valparaiso, [Aug., 

noises; far toward the east rose the snow- crowned peak of 
Aconcagua, marking the boundary between Chili and Argen- 
tine, and I felt as Christian, having climbed the hill of Diffi- 
culty, sees before him the white gates of the City Beautiful. 

When on Sunday morning, standing on one of the level 
streets below, one looks up this sharp incline and sees the 
manto-draped figures as they move in solemn procession to 
early Mass, one is reminded of the pilgrims of early times in 
their toilsome journeys to some favorite shrine. The churches, 
most of them, are poor and bare ; in many of them there are 
no chairs, no seats; a straw matting covers the brick floor; 
upon this the people kneel during the services. One cannot 
but remark the absence of men from these functions. 

The civilization of the old and the new world is here seen. 
Progress as denoted by the many beautiful houses, architectu- 
rally as fine as any in the world with their handsomely carved 
facades, their palatial proportions, their every evidence that 
millions of money is represented under their roof. Electric 
lights are placed upon the crests of the cliffs, a street- car line 
encircles the city, and the large and commodious shops contain 
luxurious and costly articles. 

It is said that what can be found in Paris or London can as 
easily be purchased here. French styles are affected and Eng- 
lish tailors patronized. Yet their methods of working seem 
primitive in the extreme. Four- teamed carts drawn by oxen 
do the heavy hauling. Garden produce, bread, milk, fowls, etc., 
are peddled from house to house by men and women mounted 
generally on donkeys, their baskets of merchandise suspended 
from their sides. Droves of donkeys loaded with fagots or 
bearing bags of coal deliver fuel to the would-be purchasers. 

A great oddity is the milk station. Every few blocks, in 
all but the principal business streets, is a platform upon which 
stands a cow tied and milked to order by a dairymaid in 
neat cap and apron. On a table near by are measures, cans, 
glasses, and a bottle of brandy, so that a thirsty man can 
make his milk punch as he likes. In the early morning these 
stands are surrounded by servants from the aristocratic houses, 
women and children with their caps and buckets awaiting their 
turn. As fast as one cow is exhausted another is driven upon 
the platform ; the cows seem even to anticipate their turn, and 
as one steps off the other moves up. 



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1903.] AN AMERICAN GIRL'S VISIT TO VALPARAISO, 623 

The climate of Valparaiso is as cold as that of Richmond, 
Va., but the people have an idea that fires are unhealthful, 
and except in houses built by English, Germans, or Americans, 
residences are without grate, stove, or chimney. Great- coats 
and furs are worn in the dining-rooms of the most fashionable 
hotels; at evening parties and receptions the heavy wraps are 
not discarded, and often at large dinners foot* warmers of llama 
wool are placed under each guest's chair. During the winter 
season every lady attending church carries her ** prayer rug *' — 
some being handsomely embroidered — upon which she kneels 
to protect her limbs from the damp, cold stone. 

The " manto *' is universally worn by the Chilian women of 
every rank. It is an artistic covering, and like charity's mantle 
covers a multitude of sins. It makes old women appear young, 
stout women slight; even a skeleton would be graceful draped 
in its soft folds. Black is the color generally worn, but white 
is used by the Penitents — those who by their special prayers 
and acts of mortification hope to obtain some signal favor from 
Heaven, or those who having obtained a grace desire to show 
their gratification. Ladies of high social position and wealth, 
as well as young girls of beauty and winning grace, are com- 
monly found among them ; clad in their snowy garments, they 
may be seen with arms outstretched in the form of a cross 
praying in the churches, before the image of some favorite 
saint. It is said they scourge their bodies with whips, wear 
sack cloth garments, sleep upon stone floors, and practise many 
acts of mortification. 

The men of the lower classes wear the "poncho," a small 
blanket with a hole cut in the middle through which the head 
passes. It is a picturesque-looking garment, is warm and con- 
venient, and with the broad Panama hat, the usual head- cover- 
ing, with small effort one can imaginjs one's self in the midst 
of the heroes of mediaeval romance ; the more so as descen- 
dants of those Indians of whom the early Spaniards wrote, 
" their armies appear like the moving forests " ; they are men 
of more than the average height and build. 

While not a believer in " women's rights," the Chilian girl 
is as far removed as her Spanish ancestor was from the life of 
freedom and independence enjoyed by her American sister, 
another occupation is here open to her. She acts as street-car 
conductor, and very satisfactorily she performs her task. She 



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624 An American GirVs Visit to Valparaiso. [Aug., 

wears a uniform of dark flannel, white apron, and sailor hat, 
and so charming does she appear that at times she finds difficulty 
in restraining the admiration of the young gallant of the town, 
who is called in vulgar parlance " Mosquito " because, as ex- 
plained to me, he is quite as persistent and troublesome. It is 
said that the experiment was first tried during the war between 
Chili and Peru, when all the able-bodied men were in the 
army. It proved advantageous to the companies and public 
generally, and so became permanent. 

The Chilian woman is handsome, but of a rather coarse type 
of beauty, very unlike the supple grace of the dusky Lima 
bsUe. The children of the lower classes are beautiful ; the 
English and German types predominate. In character it is 
said that the Chilian resembles closely the Irish; there is the 
same quickness of wit, the same reckless courage, the same 
pride and love of country. But here the resemblance ceases. 
Quick as the Irish to resent an injury, there is none of the 
Irishman's generosity of pardon. Revengeful and cruel, there is 
no quarter given to their enemies. The history of their war 
with Peru aflfords examples of brutality without parallel in 
modern warfare. Upon the battle-field nine-tenths of the 
bodies of the dead were found with their throats cut; no 
prisoners were taken except where whole armies surrendered ; 
throughout Peru fields were laid waste, churches pillaged and 
burned, towns destroyed with a ferocity which recalls the days 
when savage hordes ran the country. Not even were the weak 
and helpless, the women and children, spared. At Arica, a 
small port a few days' ride froni Valparaiso, is still shown the 
rocky precipice over which the Peruvian soldiers were driven, 
to be dashed to pieces on the rocky crags below or drowned 
in the seething waters ; yet this they preferred to falling into 
the hands of their cruel ^conquerors. It has even been said a 
band of sisters whose gentle administrations alleviated the 
horrors of war met with the same fate. 

Farming in Chili is conducted on the old feudal system. 
The land is divided into great estates, owned by people who 
live in the cities and seldom visit their " haciendas," as they are 
called. The tenants are permanent; they have little cottages 
and gardens for which they pay no rent. When their services 
are required by their landlords they are subject to his call, and 
they are paid generally in orders on the supply store, which is 



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1903.] . An American GirVs Visit to Valparaiso. 625 




The City Custom-Housb at Valparaiso. 

a commissary of the estate and supplies clothing, groceries, and 
other articles, especially rum. They are given a small credit in 
these stores, and the law prohibits a tenant from leaving a 
landlord until the last farthing is paid, so the poor, patient 
peon never gets ahead. He lives and dies in the same cabins 
on the same estates where his father and grandfather lived and 
died. Born to a heritage of toil, he never succeeds in setting 
himself free from his "house of bondage," and is altogether 
ignorant of the great world outside of his little realm, where 
the conditions under which he labors would not be tolerated. 

During my stay in Chili the Christmas-tide approached 
and, accompanied by my friends, I determined to assist at the 
midnight service in the little church near by, ''La Misa de 
gallas " — Mass of the Cocks, as it is called. The last time I 
had attended midnight Mass was at the Madeleine, and I well 
remembered the walk in fast- falling snow through the silent 
streets of Paris, the solemn hush over the noisy city, the rever- 
ent warting in the darkened church, and then the burst of 
music and light that welcomed the Birthday of the Child-God. 



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626 AN AMERICAN GIRVS VISIT TO VALPARAISO. [Aug. 

Here what a contrast! Summer roses filled the iair with fra- 
grance, summer breezes blew softly upon us, the night was 
brilliant as day with its countless stars; sounds of laughter, 
song, and dance greeted us as we wended our way to '* El 
Espiritu Santo." Mass commenced, a well-trained choir chanted 
the services, when in the hush following the Elevation our 
iears were assailed by the loud crowing of cocks, the braying 
of donkeys, the bleating of lambs ; in fact the whole animal 
kingdom seemed suddenly let loose among us. We looked up 
in surprise; perched aloft in the choir were a group of smil- 
ing boys^it was they who, by their uncouth noises, tried to 
represent the rejoicing of nature at the coming of its King. 

Easter in Chili, as in Peru, is observed with special cere- 
monies. From Holy Thursday to Holy Saturday no bells are 
^rung, no carriages or cabs are driven, even the street- cars are 
isilent. Only black-robed figures are seen in the streets, and 
over the city hangs a pall of silence and mourning. Our visit 
was drawing to a close, but we were loath to leave before 
Race day, the great holiday of Chili. This day is the event 
of the season ; on it ail business is suspended, banks are closed, 
and " the world and his wife," dressed in gala finery, assemble 
in the place appointed. And what an ideal spot it is ! A 
sunny valley encircled by green hills, upon whose grassy slopes* 
are erected booths rising tier upon tier, gay with flags, gar- 
landed with flowers and vines — bowers of beauty, forming a 
fitting frame for the grace and loveliness that smilingly greets 
friend-s behind their leafy screen. During the pauses between 
the races we made a visit to the peasants, whose less fortu- 
nate purses debarred them from entering our charmed enclo- 
sure. But they too were enjoying themselves : dancing the 
" cuaker " — the minuet of Chili — bodies swaying, handkerchiefs 
waving, feet keeping time to weird, rhythmic music, thumped 
out by one of their number on a banjo. 

This day ended our holiday ; and soon embarked upon our 
homeward way, we looked our last upon the white cliffs of 
Valparaiso. 



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An Armenian Patriarch in full Vestments. 



EASTERN CHURCHES IN COMMUNION WITH ROME. 

BY LORENZO O'ROURKE. 

[URING the dawning years of the new century the 
aged eyes of the Great White Pope have beheld 
the coming of the glory of the Lord in many 
guises, and under beautiful auspices. Even in 
America, personally unknown to him, though dear 
to the liberal Pontiff in love with the future, the opening years 
of the century have been marked by jubilee celebrations which 
have awakened wide interest, and are the faint counterpart of 
the popular celebrations held in Rome. 

But it is only in the Eternal City and in the shadow of the 
Vatican that the real significance of the sublime honors paid by 
the world to the Pontiflf can be adequately appreciated. 




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628 



Eastern Churches in 



[Aug., 



" From the four corners of the earth they come 
To kiss this shrine, this mortal — breathing saint. '' 

Probably the most striking, the most frequent of all the 
tributes laid at the feet of the " Lion couchant at the throne of 
God," were those of the different Oriental Rites in communion 
with Rome. 

The unity and universality of the church have been strik- 
ingly illustrated in a recent series of ceremonials in the beauti- 
ful and classic Church of Sant' Andrea della Valle, Rome. The 
venerable Vincenzo Pallotti, wishing to give a visible and elo- 
quent lesson of this genuine unity in variety that exists in the 
Catholic Church, arranged a series of religious celebrations to 
be held serially in the same church by the various rites in 
communion with the Roman See. 

Latins, Greeks, Maronites, Chaldeans, Slavs, Syrians, and 
Armenians celebrated in harmony the same sacrifice at the same 

altar. Italian, French, English, German, 
Spanish, and Polish priests preached in 
their several languages from the same 
pulpit. This remarkable picture of unity 
of creed in variety of custom and Ian- 
guage was regarded by those who wit- 
nessed it as one of the most striking 
omens of the eventual realization of Pope 
Leo's dream — the unification of the 
separated churches of the East under 
the authority of the Roman See. 

It is of great interest to note that 
all these Oriental liturgies, varying in 
their ceremonies, language, and vest- 
ments, conform absolutely in essentials 
to the Roman Church, with which they 
are in perfect agreement. 

THE FAMOUS MARONITE RITE. 

When the invading hordes of Per- 
sians and Mussulmans poured into the 
Right Rev. P. L. kazen, East, overwhelming the Catholic settle- 

Abbot of the syro-maro- ments, a little colony of Syrians, escap- 
NiTE Monks, celebrating . ^ * . ^ 

Pontifical Mass. mg the general torrent, fled into the 




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1903] 



Communion with Rome. 



629 



caverns of Mount Libanus, and there in secret preserved the 
ancient faith. From time to time they received accessions, and 
in the course of years this indomitable little tribe formed a 
powerful people, who later 
on became the scourge 
of the Saracens in Syria. 
Such is the hardy people 
who are to-day in full 
communion with the Ro- 
man Catholic Church, 
and who are known as 
Maronites from one of 
their celebrated leaders, 
St. John Maro. 

The Maronites now 
number nearly 3CX),ooo, 
and are settled for the 
most part in the region of 
Mount Libanus. Renan, 
the famous Frenchman 
who delivered such sturdy 
blows to the Church, met 
them and was royally en- 
tertained by them in the 

course of his journey through Syria during the latter part of 
his life. He pays this hardy Christian race some notable com- 
pliments. Their simple lives and pure, naive faith evidently made 
a great impression upon him and inspired some of the most 
beautiful pages of his later unpublished correspondence. 

The liturgy of the Maronites is somewhat different in form 
from that with which most Catholics are familiar. It is that 
attributed to St. James the Apostle, with some modifications, 
taken from the Latin Church. This liturgy is the Syro-Chaldaic 
with the exception of a few details. Even as early as the thir- 
teenth century the Maronites, in order to approach still nearer 
to the Roman Church, began to adopt the rich vestments in 
vogue among the Latins. The popes, in recognition of their no- 
table adhesion to the Holy See, have been accustomed, in con- 
firming their patriarchate, to present to them a costly set of 
vestments. An incident of this kind happened recently when 
Leo XI H. confirmed the present patriarch, Elias Pietro Huayek. 




Type of a Prblate «op the Greco-Bulgarian 
Rite. 



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630 



Eastern Churches in 



[Aug., 



The Patriarch of the Maronites has his titular see in An- 
tioch and resides in Libanus. He has jurisdiction over eight 
dioceses, containing five seminaries. There is an international 
college at Beyrouth, and another college at Kaffarai ; there are, 
besides, three monastic congregations approved by the Holy 
See which observe the rule of St. Antony. Finally, there are 
about two hundred monasteries. 

The Maronites founded a college in Rome and placed it un- 
der the charge of the Jesuits. It was suppressed during the 
occupation of Napoleon I. Leo XHI. has throughout his pon- 
tificate distinguished this interesting nation by special marks of 
friendship. In 1892 he re-established the college of the Maro- 
nites at Rome which Napoleon had suppressed, and endowed it 
with 100,000 lire. The rector of the college is Don Elias Cury 
Scedid. 

THE BULGARIAN RITE. 



The Bulgarian rite is that of the 
Greeks, which has been translated into 
the Slav language by St. Cyril and St. 
Methodius, brothers and natives of 
Thessalonica. This liturgy, approved 
by Adrian II. and John VIII., and by 
other pontiffs, is used in Russia, 
Servia, and Montenegro. It is held 
in common by those in communion 
with Rome and those dissenting, with 
the single difference that the former 
recognize the Pope, while the latter 
hold allegiance to their synods and 
patriarchs. There are 10,000 Catholics 
under the jurisdiction of the Vicar 
Apostolic who resides in Salonica, 
and 3,000 under the Vicar Apostolic 
who resides in Adrianopolis. 

THE ARMENIAN RITE. 




Mgr. Maladinoff in the 
RoBEb OF A Greco-Bulgarian 
Bishop. 



The Armenian liturgy had its 

origin towards the end of the fourth 

century. Previous to this period the Armenian language 

had not achieved its definitive mould, and it was thus im- 



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I903.] 



Communion with Rome. 



631 



possible to adopt a characteristic 
rite earlier. The Armenians en- 
joy the distinction of having had 
their languagie perfected and re- 
duced to its present alphabetic 
and graphic form by a saint. 
This learned philologist was St. 
Misrob, and it is to his genius 
that the Armenians are indebted 
for the possession of a rare and 
vigorous instrument of expres- 
sion. 

As regards the order and 
substance of the prayers, this 
liturgy conforms to that attribut- 
ed to the celebrated St. John 
Chrysostom. But in the Mass 
there are certain unique prayers 
couched in the vigorous and dig- 
nified language peculiar to the 
Armenian style. 

The sacred robes of ceremony 
and vestments of this rite are 
bekutiful and imposing. The 
Armenian cope, thrown over the 
shoulders, is of multo-shaped 
damask, long and richly orna- 
mented. The amice, also worn over the shoulders, is of heavy 
brocaded satin. The surplice is the one familiar in Catholic 
churches the world over. The cincture is a broad band worn 
over the breast of the celebrant. The Armenian priest wears 
costly ruffled sleeves, while his stole is like the familiar one, but 
considerably longer. The ptaneta, or long robe, is like that of 
the Latins, and has its origin in the sacerdotal toga of the 
Greeks. 

While saying Mass the Armenian priest wears upon his 
head a round mitre and holds in his hand a cross to bless the 
people. The bishops wear the Latin mitre. Three different 
croziers are in use among the Armenian priesthood, one for the 
priest, one for the bishop, and one for the patriarch. Those of 
simple priests terminate in two serpent heads, in the middle of 




Mgr. Pasquale Rubian, Titular 
Archbishop of Amasia of the Ar- 
menian Church. He-is A Type OF THE 
Priesthood of that People who were 
so relentlessly Persecuted by the 
Turks a few years ago. 



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632 EASTERN Churches in [Aug., 

which is a little globe in which is inserted a small crossi^'' That 
of the bishops is like that of the Latin crozier; the patriarch's 
terminates in a globe surmounted by a small cross. > 

According to the Armenian custom, the altar is veiled from 
the eyes of the faithful during Lent, the veil being ^^emoved 
only during Mass. There is a unique and interesting ceremonial 
feature which probably had its origin in one of the rites of the 
Old Testament ; the Armenian priests have an instrument called 
the Flabella, in the form of the head of a cherubtm with three 
pairs of wings, and little bells attached, which is used in 
Masses, accompanied by the chant. It is thought that the 




Armenian Priest Rbading the Gospel. 

cymbals, in the ancient Hebrew liturgy, were used in somewhat 
the same manner. 

The Catholic Armenians have a patriarch, and organized 
dioceses in nineteen different places. The present patriarch is 
patriarch of Cilicia, and resident in Constantinople. 

It was formerly the custom for Armenian students for the 
priesthood to attend the Propaganda, but in 1883 Leo XIII. 
founded a separate college for the Armenians, giving them the 
church of San Nicolo da Tolentino and the convent attached. 

The rector of the Armenian College is Mgr. Pietro Koju- 
man. 



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1903.] 



Communion with Rome. 



633 




Armenian Pribst Officiating at Mass. 
THE CHALDAIC RITEI 

The Chaldaic nation enjoys the supreme honor of having 
first recognized the divinity of Jesus Christ, for according to 
the belief of devout Catholics the Magi who brought their 
gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh to the cradle of the in- 
fant God belonged to this people. 




Armbnian Bishop Officiating at High Mass, with two assistant Priests. 



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6j4 



EASTERN Churches in 



[Augi, 



The liturgy of this church is derived from the Apostle 
Thomas and Sts. Thaddeus and Mari, and is therefore called 
the Mass of the Apostles. Up to the nineteenth century it 
was practised in the Chaldaic Churches oif Egypt, Cyprus, Tar- 
sus, Persia, India, etc. Since the Nestorian schism this church 
has fallen off largely in numbers. The liturgical language is 
the Syro-Chaldaic. The sacred vestments used in the services 
are similar to those of the other pure Eastern rites. 

The bishop's mitre, which was at first of the Greek pattern, 
is now similar to that of the Latins. The Chaldaic Church 
US0S in its sacrifice leavened bread. There is but a slight 
difference in the form of worship between the schismatic and 
united Chaldeans. 

This church has a patriarch, resident at Babylon, and twelve 

dioceses, three* monasteries, 
and a patriarchal seniinary in 
Mossul. 

THE SYRIAN RITE. 

For the first four centuries 
the Syrian Church, founded by 
the Apostles, professed' obe- 
dience to the Holy See, and 
held the common faith of 
Rome. This church has fur- 
nished many illustrious men 
to Christianity. Finally, how- 
ever, it embraced the errors 
of Eutyches. For many cen- 
turies it was wholly separated 
from the Roman Church. 

What is at present known 
as the Syrian Catholic Church 
took form in the seventeenth 
century. Its liturgy is in the 

The Abbot Samuel Giamil. Procurator ^^^j^^j^, languaffe. and is 
OF THE Patriarch OF Babylonia, cELfi^BRAT- *• *• '^ 

iNG Pontifical Mass acgording to the thought tO be derived from 
Chaldean Rite. ^^e language spoken in the 

region known as Aram in ^the Old Testament. It is interest- 
ing to recall that this tongue was used by the infant Church 

' Christ and the Apostles. . At the present day, however, the 




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epistle, gospel, and a few other prayers of the Mass are recited 
in Arabic for the better understanding of the people, constrained 
by oppression to abandon their native tongue. 

The sacred vestments used 
by this rite are as follows: the 
alb and stole, a little different 
from the Latin ; the cincture of 
the usual satin material; the 
manual cross and the bishop's 
mitre. The sacred vessels are 
the chalice and patine used in 
communion by the priest and 
deacon, but not by the faithful, 
who communicate, as in the 
Latin rite, under one species. In 
the chanted Mass, during the 
consecration, prayers are sung 
aloud to the accompaniment of 
cymbals and the Eastern tym- 
panun. Those who are familiar 
with the act of consecration in 
the Latin churches, and re- 
call its silent character (a slight 
tinkling of a bell being all that 
is heard), will be struck with 
the difference in discipline as re- 
gards this feature of the Mass. 

• The present Patriarch of the Syrian Church is Mgr. Ignatius 
Behnani Benni, who resides at Mardin, in Mesopotamia. 




Mgr. Joseph Halra, Bishop and 
Procurator of the Syrian Patri- 
archate OF Antioch, celebrating 
Pontifical Mass according to the 
Syrian Rite. 



THE GREEK-RUTHENIAN RITE. 

The Greek Ruthenian Church, which claims to have received 
the faith from St. Andrew the Apostle, begins the record of 
its hierarchy after the conversion of Prince Vladimir, who 
married Anna, sister of Basil the Greek emperor. 

After the schism of Michael Cerulario, when the other 
Russians separated from Rome, the Ruthenians remained faith- 
ful to the Apostolic See. In 1255 Danilo I. asked and ob- 
tained from Innocent IV. the kingly crown of the Ruthenians. 
For ever after the Ruthenians remained faithful to Rome. 
After the partition of Poland, the Ruthenians of Galicia passed 
VOL. Lxxvii.^41 

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636 



Eastern Churches in 



[Aug., 



under the sceptre of the Asborgs, The others passed binder 
the dominion of the Russian Empire. Of these latter, sub- 
jected to the l\orrible religious persecption of Russia, but few 
survive to-day. The other branch of the Ruthenians, who fell 
under the dominion of Austria, wjere treated kindly by the 
Empress Maria Theresa, and the Emperor Joseph II. To- 
day they number four and a half millions, so that this branch 
of the church is about half as numerous as the Catholic 
Church in the United States. Leo XLII.- has conferred special 
honors and favors upon this heroic church. Aided by Francis 
Joseph of Austria, he has founds a college for the Ruthenians 
in Rome, and placed it under the care of the Jesuits. 



THE GREEK RITE. 

This rite, in communion with th^ Roman See, uses the 
^—^ liturgy pf St. John Chrysostom, and 

f^ J on^ certain fixed days that, of St. Basil, 

s In the Greek Church many priests 

W'^^gi^ are permitted to celebrate Mass at 

^L\ > *o.^ the same altar, using the same species 

as the principal officiant. This cus- 
tom is in a certain manner conserved 
among the Latins in the ceremony 
of the ordination of priests. 

In the Greek rite, besides the 
main altar, there is a smaller altar, 
where are prepared the leavened bread 
and wine, and where the deacon, 
when the people have communicated, 
consumes the bread and wine remain- 
ing in the chalice, and performs the 
ablutions. 
PI Mf^'i With regard to the sacred vest- 

%A. A A. -Sji^ ments used by this rite, they are 

^[^^^^P quite different both in size and pat- 

mgr. basilio lurck^. Pro- ^^^n from those of the Latins, but 
CURATOR OF THE RuTHENiAN are identical in their symbolism. The 
Church, Robed for Service ac- . , , • • j • 

CORDING TO THE greco-ruthb- pHest s cope has maintained its 
NiAN Rite. primitive shape. The Greek bishop 

wears an ornament suspended from his girdle and reaching to 
his knee. He wears over his shoulders a robe that recalls the 




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637 



antique pallium worn in the 
primitive ages of the church, f 
His headgear is the tradi- 
tional symbol of patriarchal 
majesty characteristic of the 
Eastern churches. 

The deacon wears a 
stole bearing the Greek word 
Agios, "holy/* repeated 
three times. 

During the Mass the 
Greeks, instead of the fa- 
miliar genuflections of the 
Latin Church, make the sign 
of the cross in the Greek 
fashion — that is, by revers- 
ing the usual process and 
carrying the hand from the 
right to the left shoulder. 
At the consecration, or most 
solemn part of the Mass, 
amid the most profound 
silence, the word " Agios " 
is uttered by all the offi- 
ciating priests at once. mgr. g. sahiro. titular archbishop 

At the communion the op NEo-CiSSAREA, arrayed in the magnificent 

,. , ./* . , PANOPLY OF THE Greek Hierarchy. 

bishop, pontificating, places 

in the hands of each of the celebrants and deacons a particle of 
the consecrated wafer, so that they may administer communion to 
themselves. This is, of course, a notable departure from the 
Latin custom. After the bishop has communicated under both 
species, the celebrants and deacons drink a few drops of the 
consecrated wine from the chalice. The people next receive 
the communion under both species. 

Communion over, the sacred vessels are purified by the 
deacon. 

The Greek rite is represented in Rome by an institution 
known as the Greek College. One of the most interesting 
features in its curriculum is the culture of music in connection 
with the sacred ceremonies. The maestro of music is D. Ugo 
Gaisser. The school followed is that known as the Byzantine, 




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638 Churches in Communion with Rome. [Aug., 

and the text-books are edited in Constantinople and Athens. 
It is modelled on the antique music of Greece. 

The Greek College, which was confirmed by the Pope in 
December of 1897, is under the direction of the Benedictines. 

The official report of the Propaganda gives the list of 
Eastern rites in full communion with the Holy See as follows: 
The Ethiopic or Abyssinian Rite, harking back to the Apostle 
St. Matthew; the Armenian Rite, originating with St. Gregory 
the Illuminator; the Coptic Rite, whose father is St. Mark the 
Evangelist; the Greek Rite, which is divided into various 
families, the pure Greek, the Bulgarian Greek, the Ruthenian 
Greek, the Melchite Greek, and the Roumanian Greek. Then 
there are the Syrian Rites, divided into the pure Syrian, the 
Chaldaic, the Maronite, and the Malabar. All these various rites 
accept the jurisdiction of the Roman See, and their patriarchs 
exercise no faculties until they have received the pallium from 
the Holy Father. 




In an Armenian Baptism the Godfather holds the Babe. 



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1903.] Queen Beauty of Carmel. 639 




gUBBN BBAU^tY OP (SaI^MBL. 

Mary, the Queen of the Beautiful Mountain, 

The Flower of Carmel — whose perfumes so rare 
We catch as we linger by purity's fountain, 
The heavenly sighing in whispers of pray'r; 
Madonna, all hail ! O thou worshipful Mother, 

The Word' of the bosom of God on thy breast 
Is silenced for love — little Jesus our Brother 
In virgin embraces lies tenderly press'd — 
The Joy of the angels — the King, is our Brother: 
Sweet Babe in the Mother's arras rev'rently press'd ! 

'Midst ages of longing — thy prophets foretold thee ; 

While kneeling on Carmel above the blue deep. 
Saw sea-mist in mantle of azure enfold thee. 

Saw rain from its bright folds the parching earth steep; 
Blue cloudlet — 'tis veiling thee. Mother and Maiden, 

Whose bosom Love chooses its one golden shrine 
To bear o'er the seas of thy sorrows, hope-laden. 

The Bud of the Promise, the Saviour Divine ; 
His tears rain so fast to the earth sweetly laden 

With Heaven's redemption of mercies divine. 

Our Lady Immaculate, Queen of this Nation, 

Ahl lift, we implore thee, thy Little One's hands 
New graces to shower o'er ways of salvation. 

As Heaven's dew over the world's arid lands; 
May blessings through Carmel's fair Queen ever pouring^ 

In bonds of peace binding all peoples in one. 
Their hearts with their cities through thy hands restoring, 

O Queen of the true hearts — to Jesus thy Son ; 
O brightest of Queens — through our Mother restoring 

The hearts of Earth's children to Jesus thy Son 1 

Feast of Mount Carmel^ July j6. 



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(Joyce Jossblyn, Sinnbi^. 



BY MARY SARSFIELD GILMORE. 



Part IV. 

ON THE HIGH-TIDE OF MANHOOD. 




CHAPTER III. 

'OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN." 

j-LADYS!" Joyce shuddered. "No, no, no!— O 
Gladys ! " 

Less than twenty-four hours since the lovers' 
parting yet what a piteous difference between 
the impassioned, confident Joyce of the previous 
evening, and the Joyce now repulsing Gladys' smiling welcome, 
— shrinking even from her proffered hand ! 

Exhausted by his sleepless night of racking mental agony, 

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. 

Joyce Jossel3m, born and brought up amidst all the narrowing restraints of New England 
farm-life, conceives the idea of going to college. His father Hiram considers that college wai 
intended for the sons of the rich and that no son of his should waste his youth in college, and if 
Joyce chose to sulk, a good stout horsewhip was the best cure for the youngster's stutHx>m fan- 
ties. Joyce finds a sympathizer in his desire for learning in Father Martin Carrudi. 

Chapter II. is a touching family scene between the irate Hiram and the recalcitrant Toyoe, 
which concludes in Joyce receiving a flogging with the horsewhip and leaving home. Chapter 
III. introduces Mandy Johnson as the boy s sweetheart, whom he meets as he is turning his 
back on the home of his childhood for ever, and they make promises of fidelity. 

In the first chapters of Part II. Joyce as a college student is presented to the various per- 
Bonalities who make their home in Camithdale, the mano'r-hoiise of Centreville, and there is 
given an insight into the social life of a college town. 

Joyce was graduated with highest honors. Commencement Day at college. Father 
Martin is there for the first time since his own graduation. Dr. Castleton, the president, 
awakens into the spiritual sense. Joyce having outgrown Mandy Johnson, by common con- 
sent their life-ways separate. Joyce enters the world. He accepts the offer tendered to him to 
be sub-editor on a Western paper, and in this capacity, on the morrow of his graduation, he 
enters the vigorous, bustling hfe of the energetic west. At the moment of his departure he 
calls on Mrs. Ravmond and a significant intervi%w takes place, in which the influence of a wo- 
man of the world enters his life. On the journey to the West Joyce has a long talk with Ray- 
mond, in which the latter ^ves his views on various matters, and states the terms on which ne 
engages Joyce. ' Arrived m San Francisco, Jovce sends an exuberant telegram to his mother. 
Joyce enters social life and takes part in a ball at the Golden Gate Ranch. Mina and Joyce 
are drawn unto each other, while Raymond's wife talks of divorce. Mina and Raymond, land- 
ing at Island Rock, are both drowned. Joyce endeavors to save them, and narrowly escapes 
with his own life. After Raymond's death Mrs. Raymond removes to San Francisco, pendmg 
the settlement of her husband's estate. Pearson, having assumed control of the Pioneer^ has 
a stormy interview with Joyce. Mrs. Raymond suddenly decides to sail for Europe ; Joyce, fail- 
ing to agree to her plans, decides to remain with the Pioneer. Stephen proposes to Gladys. 
Joyce meets with the great temptation. Pearl Ripley, a Comedy Girl, enters into his life, 
womanhood has lost something of its spiritual beauty as the result. Later on he is lured into 
i. scheme of stock gambling. Stephen engages in social work, and tastes some of the higher 
things of life: He meets Gladys after the promised year's delay; while Mrs. Raymond, a 
restless woman of the world, comes into Joyce's life again. Joyce is about to declare his 
love for Gladys when the news comes of a mme swindle. Joyce saves Hans from despair, but 
comes agaip under the sway of Mrs. Raymond's power. Joyce and Imogen are married. On 
returning from their honeymoon Imogen dies very suddenly. Her death is the cause of Joyce's 
spiritual regeneration. Two years pass and Pearl Ripley comes with her child to the home of 
Joyce's mother. That mother receives her and experiences her own punishment for having 
educated Joyce without religion. Joyce is again attracted to Gladys, when Pearl Ripley 
and his mother and his child find their way to San Francisco. 



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«903.] JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER, 64I 

haggard from the long-drawn-out anguish of his conflict with 
his mother, and still smarting from the fiery abuse showered 
upon him by the hoi-headed Colonel, to whom he had hastened 
to confess the revolution of circumstances now forbidding him 
to assume the Pioneer, Joyce presented a figure so incongruous 
with Gladys' natural expectation, that she stood speechless in 
her distressed surprise. His stem gravity, his agonized voice, 
his gesture arresting her gracious approach, smote the tender 
dreanis that had quickened her heart -beats, as in advance of 
Mam*setle, who was indulging in a siesta, she went down to 
greet the unexpected arrival, her little red book in her hands. 
So he had returned at once, days before she expected him, in 
his ardent impatience to end suspense, — to face his test, and 
coerce its issue ! Foolish boy, with the folly that is sweeter 
than wisdom ! But Gladys' happy illusion was short-lived. 

" No, no, no ! " he cried, rejecting all that he had solicited 
so fervently, — ^all that her smile, her little red book, now 
conceded without words. For a moment she felt wounded as 
well as bewildeVed. Then a plausible explanation suggested it- 
self. 

Recalling his recent anxiety at his dearth of home- news, 
evil tidings seemed the solution of the mysterious change in 
him. How small, how petty she was to resent his strange 
manner, when his suffering claimed all her sympathy ! 

*' O Joyce 1 have you had bad news ? " she inquired. 
*'Your father — your mother — " 

" My mother is here, Gladys ! " 

" Here ? " she echoed, glancing about her in perplexed sur- 
prise. " Your mother here, Joyce ? But where, then ? " 

"In town, I mean; at my hotel. She surprised me last 
night. Gladys, you know — you remember — all that I said to 
you,—" 

The flush on Gladys' cheek deepened; her eyes glowed 
softly. In her white gown her beauty had a bridal suggestion. 
She thought of the night's sweet wakefulness, in which she had 
lived over and over again the hour of Joyce's avowal, — seeing 
his face in the darkness, liearing his voice in the silence, 
trembling in shy, shamed happiness as his love-looks, his love- 
words, reglowed and rang in her maiden -memory. Did she 
remember? As if, to the last day of her woman-life, one 
whisper, one glance, would be forgotten. She smiled at the 



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642 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Aug., 

lovable simplicity of the masculine question. How little Joyce 
knew her heart! 

"Is it probable that I should forget, Joyce?" she asked. 
*'But yes, — I remember." She looked at him expectantly. He 
was going to repeat the sweet old story, that all women love 
to hear. 

But Gladys was doomed to disappointment Joyce's re- 
sponse was, by intention, untender. 

"You must forget my words," he said. *• Let them be as 
if they had never been spoken. I had no right to speak them, 
Gladys. They deceived you, — insulted you, — " 

" O Joyce ! " she cried, in a voice of inexpressible sorrow. 

Not for herself — though the blight of her dreams was bitter 
— ^but for him was the wound of her heart, her love-hurt. If 
he had wooed in light mood, then he was not what she had 
thought him. O Joyce, what a fall was there 1 

"Do not wrong me," he pleaded, reading her thoughts in 
her face. " My lily of women, could I wrong you intentionally ? 
I spoke in good faith, because, God knows, in ignorance — " 

He paused, so mortally pallid as he raised his hand to his 
brow, that Gladys forgot all save her impulse to comfort him. 

The day, like its predecessors, was strangely oppressive in 
atmosphere, airless even to stagnation, and at once gloomy and 
glaring, as though a fierce sun burned behind dense clouds, — a 
lurid day of yellow haze and stifling temperature. But in the 
marble-paved, lofty- domed hall of the Ranch electric fans 
effected a breezy interior. Gladys led the way to a palm- 
shaded corner. 

" Oh, I thank God that I was frank with you last night," he 
cried, passionately. "Shameful and terrible as my position is, 
you will believe that I was ignorant of it. Gladys, the sin I 
thought dead, the past I believed to be buried — rose last night 
a living thing — O my God ! " 

" Ah 1 " she moaned, hiding her pained, shamed face from 
his eyes. "Then your mothrr — your mother — " 

" Yes," he assented, with sadness. " Poor mother 1 " 

For a moment she sat in silence, strugglieg to grasp his 
full meaning. Then she rose, dignity struggling with tender- 
ness in her mien. 

" Spare us both," she entreated, " the pain of details. Your 
confession of last night, your confidence of to-day, tell me all 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 643 

the story, including its sequel. It may comfort you to know 
that I have no reproach for you. You would never have 
married Imogen, you would never have spoken of love to me, 
if you had not believed your sin to have passed beyond re- 
demption. Joyce, there is only one happiness for you now,— 
to do right! I thank God that you will have the strength to 
do it ! " 

" Right ? What is right ? " he protested on natural impulse. 
" But your verdict shall be my law, Gladys ! " 

Her hand slipped within his. Her pure, brave eyes appealed 
to him. 

"Your law is moral duty, and manly honor. You need no 
woman to tell you this, Joyce." 

" Oh, you are all against me — all ! " he cried, like a petulant 
boy. "You, and mother, and Father Martin — " 

As he uttered the name a new thought struck him. With 
one hand he groped for his letter-case, — with the other drew 
her back to her seat. 

" Read this letter from Father Martin," he said. " It will 
tell you everything. Prepare yourself for a shock, Gladys. I 
cannot spare you. Yet nothing you learn through Father Mar- 
tin can profane you ! These are father's letters, intercepted by 
mother. Read them all, and judge between them — for me. 
Right to others seems a one-sided sort of duty. Is there no 
right due to you and me ? " 

The cry was but the voice of struggling nature. She ignored 
it, taking the stamped but unmailed letters. 

" Your mother intercepted your father's letters ? Why ? " 
3he asked. " I do not understand." 

"Well, you see father raged against mother's convictions, 
and any excitement or anger revives the effects of his old 
stroke. He could write, but was house-bound ; so mother re- 
tained his letters, to deliver by hand. She and Father Martin 
thought to spare me su$pense and — 'temptation." 

"You would have conquered temptation," she said, inspir- 
ingly. 

He made an impatient gesture, yet his gloomy eyes bright- 
ened. Gladys was right. The instinct of woman- love told her 
that to stand invincibly, Joyce must stand on faith in himself. 

He sat back with closed eyes as she opened the letters. 
To watch her face as she read them would have seemed a bru- 



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644 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Aug., 

tality. Yet his life seemed to hang on her breath, her heart- 
beats. Quickening, slowing, their fluctuations recorded his des- 
tiny. One sharp sob escaped her, and for an instant she ceased 
reading. He knew at what point, and his heart sickened with 
shame. Yet no word was exchanged. Neither could have 
spoken. All great crises are solemn with silence. 

Hiram Josselyn's letters were unpleasant reading. The girl's 
sensitive spirit shuddered from their repellent soullessness. Yet 
the precepts of the sordid old man who advocated worldly ex- 
pedience at the cost of moral obligation and honor, — his rage, 
— evident in spite of inadequate and difficult expression, — 
against the nobler standards of Joyce's other advisers, — his un- 
scrupulous disregard of the wronged, in his selfish ambition 
for the wronger, — were pathetic in view of the natural affec- 
tion prompting them, — paternal love of its type, though the 
type was ignoble ; love according to Hiram Josselyn's lights ! 

But over Father Martin's letter Gladys' eyes lingered lov- 
ingly. It was a letter from the priest and friend's soul and 
heart, dictating nothing, but appealing to Joyce's best and 
highest sentiments, and taking his noble attitude in the matter 
for granted. He was reminded that little Joy was his second 
sielf, his immortal as well as human responsibility ; that Pearl, 
a pure soul in spite of her error, was at his mercy to be made 
or marred, both as woman and spirit; that even as he did by 
these, he would do by himself, since good or evil done reacts 
on the doer. Then the silence preceding Mrs. Josselyn's jour- 
ney was explained, on the ground that to write deceitfully, con- 
cealing the truth, had been impossible ; while unnecessary fore- 
warning must have protracted cruelly, — ^^and in the spiritual 
sense, perilously, — nature's struggle between inclination and duty. 
As it was. Father Martin confessed that having assumed Joyce's 
righteous view of the matter as certain, he had written in con- 
fidence to the Western diocesan Bishop, who had responded as 
capably as kindly, and enclosed directions for Joyce which 
Father Martin now forwarded. Application to the priest speci- 
fied in the Bishop's letter would find dispensation and license 
in readiness, at no risk of publicity. Finally, he begged Joyce 
to realize that even though dutiful atonement implied the sacri- 
fice of seemingly sweeter things, that sacrifice was the seed of 
a harvest with no bitter aftermath ; and that time and habitude 
sooner or later healed all wounds of humanity, save the death- 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 645 

wound of sin in the soul ! The good letter dosed with the 
priestly blessing ; and the peace of God seemed its atmos- 
phere. 

As Gladys read, almost every emotion' of which humanity 
is capable seemed to be quickened in her anguished heart. Not 
only had she idealised Joyce individually, but likewise kept her 
eyes shut to the world's flagrant evil. Now, his culpability, 
her own disillusion, seemed to surpass her credence. Yet against 
her shocked censure dnd revulsion of spirit rose the extenuat- 
ing thought that the sin of Joyce's past was not the guilt of 
his present, — that he had repented and lived nobly, — that, in 
spite of his record, Father Martin still believed in him. Should 
she, in her fallibility and inexperience, question the verdict o{ 
the priest who knew souls ? 

Yet pain was in the girl's breast, pain sharp and cruel. She 
felt the sickening physical sinking, the painful shrinking and 
compression, of the fond heart that knows its love' squandered. 
Instead of leaping young life, a dead blank stretched before 
her ; instead of love, she saw loneliness ; instead of joy, chast- 
ened sorrow. God, mankind, wealth, and duty were left her, 
indeed; but personal happiness is the human, — the woman- 
heart's desire. Yet Joyce must not realize the ill he had 
done her. To dishearten would be to weaken, just as strength 
was his need. 

"Well?" gasped Joyce, as she returned the letters she had 
read without comment. 

"There is nothing to say, Joyce. God has spoken for us. 
We owe Him thanks — that He spoke — in time!" 

" Thanks that I am parted from you ? That is asking too 
much. — Gladys, Gladys, commute my sentence ! " 

From the soul of the man it would have been a cry of 
cowardice, of dishonor; but Joyce's face contradicted his im- 
pulsive love-plea. By his suffering Gladys knew that his 
spirit was willing, and that the cry of the flesh that it was 
young and human and hungry for happiness was no selfish 
claim — not even an appeal against justice, — but only nature's 
sob for a sweetness surrendered. There was no scorn in her 
heart for him, — only infinite pity. She, too, knew the pain of 
love's loss. 

" Can I commute a sentence that I did not pass ? " she 
asked. . " Not I, Joyce, nor your mother ; not even Father 



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646 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Aug., 

Martin! You know that your sentence is that of your own 
conscience, your souL To commute it would be to defraud 
you of the divine grace granted you, — the chance to atone to 
the sinned against ! " 

** Gladys," he began, but her trembling lips, her pathetic 
eyes, appealed against further protest. Her strength was ex- 
hausted ; her composure spent She rose, and he did not deter 
her. 

" Go, now — to the priest," she said. " Mam'selle shall send 
— to your mother — " 

Her paling lips failed her. She resumed her seat weakly. 

" My angel, my dove, my white, white love," he cried, 
penitently. Then, obedient to her gesture, he left her. 

The atmosphere, meantime, had grown more breathless, the 
clouded sun-glare more lurid, the heat heavier and more devi- 
talizing, the strange silence more oppressive. On the train 
bearing Joyce back to town conversation languished, nods and 
terse greetings taking its place. Even in the sociable smoker 
discussion of the weather had died out for want of breath* 
Yet physical exhaustion was not all the secret, — the spirit had 
part in it, albeit a part unrecognized. Man and man exchanged 
glances of dread surpassing fear of body. In the face of any 
ominous phenomenon of Nature, humanity trembles — less for 
life than for the mystery beyond it! Deep thoughts mariced 
grave faces. Consciences long asleep wakened; dead remorse 
was resurrected. The worldling awed by the assertion of long- 
quiescent Omnipotence is the most helpless, the most abject of 
creatures. 

With a sigh of relief that he was spared the torture of 
social intercourse, Joyce closed his eyes, and leaned wearily 
against the window; unconsciouyly passing the Colonel who 
was speeding Ranchwards, with little Joy at his side. For the 
Pearson temper, if fierce, was likewise fleeting; and scarcely 
had Joyce retreated from his furious fire, when the penitent 
Colonel seized his hat and impetuously rushed after him, intent 
upon making amends. Between his office and Joyce's hotel he 
planned out his campaign of rescue; but Joyce already had 
started for Golden Gate Ranch, so Mrs. Josselyn faced the 
Colonel's cannon. 

"Joyce has told me the whole thing," he announced, waiv- 



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I903.] JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. 647 

ing formal preliminaries ; " and by Jove, madam, it 's the deuce 
of a hole you have put him in t Let the press scent a scandal, 
and the scamp is ruined. This encumbered descent of yours 
must be covered 1 " 

Mrs. Josselyn's wept-out looking eyes brightened with in- 
dignation. She felt heated and uncomfortable in her tight 
black alpaca, confused by her strange surroundings, and ex- 
hausted by long mental stress and unaccustomed fatigue. Yet 
her sturdy maternal spirit triumphed. 

'' I did what I thought right," she said, '' and I 'm his 
mother ! My Joyce did a wrong, and he 's got to suffer for it 
But I guess I . can visit my own son without scandal, — and 
have a little relative with me, too, if I like I " 

"Nevertheless, my dear madam, I wish to kidnap this 
youngster I He 's got to lie low at my Ranch." 

" What 's a kid-nap ? queried Joy, smiling acknowledgment 
of the Colonel's attention. He was tired of looking out of the 
window, and welcomed any distraction. " I don't want any — 
naps. I only jes' got up, an' had my bekfast I Let 's go out — 
or have dinner— or somefingt" 

" Precisely t We '11 go out first, and dine last, you rascal I 
Get his hat, Mrs. Josselyn, and his togs can follow. I '11 an- 
swer to Joyce ; and as for this Joyce in miniature, — ^what about 
the sea-shore, and a field full of ponies ? " 

"Where's my hat?" demanded Joy, jumping up and down 
in his excitement. 

"But his mother," protested Mrs. Josselyn, "expects him 
to meet her this evening — " 

" Let them meet at the Surfside, where the public can't see 
theml My son Dolly shall run you straight through on a 
special. Joyce cannot appear in this connection, — no, not if I 
jail him ! Madam, this is a question . of your son's future 
life I" 

^^ Here's my hat," triumphed Joy, who had been searching 
desperately. Jamming it on sideways in his impatience, he slid 
his hand in the Colonel's. By instinct, he knew that this big, 
bluff old gentleman with the cross voice, and the fierce eyes, 
and the tender smile, knew what little boys wanted, and gave 
it to them ! 

" Well ! " ejaculated Mrs. Josselyn, kissing her runaway 
helplessly. ** Well I I don't know what Joyce will say to me ! " 



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648 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Aug., 

In the car the popcorn boy monopolized Joy's attention; 
and as the Colonel's eagle-eyes [were on the track of any errors 
lurking in the latest edition of the Pioneer^ Joyce's train pass- 
ing before the short run was over, failed to reveal his transient 
proximity. At the station, the Colonel, hustling Joy into his 
cart, sprang to his seat behind the mare, without his usual 
caress and treat to her. 

*' Whew, but it 's hot," he puffed, gesturing his man towards 
the rear. ** If any nice little cyclone strikes us. Bob, look out 
for this little chap !. We ddn't want to kill him oflF ! " 

" Yes, sir ! No, sir ! " murmured Bob, with suppressed 
curiosity. Who was this stunning kid who had dropped from 
the heavens ? Was the Colonel, at his age, making a fool of 
fools of himself, and aspiring to become a step- father? 

As the maligned but blissfully ignorant Colonel whipped 
off with a jerk, Joy turned face-about with an air of valor. ' 

" You man back there can hold on to me^ if you 're 'fraid 
you '11 fall off ! " he said, and considerately extended his little 
hand. The correct lacky, touchii^g his hat, hid a smile by 
the gesture. But the child then and there won his heart ! 

To reach the Surfside it was necessary to pass Golden 
Gate Ranch, and the Colonel drew up, hoping to waylay Joyce 
on the premises. But a difHculty suggested itself in the per- 
son of Joy. His abrupt presentation would be an outrage to 
Gladys; yet to leave him with Bob was almost equally in- 
expedient, since his tongue was hung in the middle and bis 
nature confiding, and already he had asked the Colonel if 
** Joyce was his new papa ? " It was little Joy himself who 
solved the problem, by a dive forward at sight of the Palace. 

" O — — oh 1 " he gasped, — " a house made all of windows ! 
Who lives in it ? My new papa,— or the ponies ? " 

A happy conceit struck the perplexed Colonel. " A white 
lady lives there with her flowers and fountain. She likes little 
boys who keep clear of the water. I wonder, now, if she 
would like you ? " 

" Course she would 1 Ev'y one likes me ! " Joy asserted, 
with childish confidence. 

" Well, take a run through, then, while I make a call at 
the house there. Bob, I '11 halt the mare here, where you can 
keep your eye on him. Now, no full-dress baths in there, re- 
member, youngster." 



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IP03.] JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. 64^ 

" Nop," promised Joy, descending with gleeful alaci^ty. 

The Aphrodite was visible through the open portico. Joy's 
active little legs sped towards her. 

" Hi, there ! " warned Bob, anxiously leaning forward. A 
somersault into the fountain seemed imminent. 

" Oh, he 's all right," laughed the Colonel, looking in as, 
he passed. " Let him run riot among thq flowers, if he wants 
to!" 

He walked thoughtfully towards the Ranch, his martial 
gait slackened to the pace of .a funeral-march. If Joyce were 
not here, — had not been here already, — had he a right to be- 
tray him, to forestall his confession ?. Yet, on the other hand, 
was it not his imperative duty to Gladys to confide the state 
of affairs at least to Mam'selle? 

But the Colonel might have spared himself his pros and 
cons, for Gladys herself had anticipated his contemplated con- 
fidence. Scarcely had Joyce's rig sped from sight, when 
Mam'selle had come unawares upon the girl, shrinking from 
sight in the shadowed corner. The sound of a suppressed sob 
had stayed her. 

** Petite," she cried, ** bqt what hast thou ? Is it the heat, 
then, — the headache ? " 

" No, Mam'selle, it is heartache," admitted Gladys, reck- 
lessly. And then, with her hand clasping Mam'selle's, and 
face hidden on her shoulder, she confided her sad little love- 
story. 

Mam'selle listened in appalled and incredulous silence. At 
first she could not realize that it was Joyce Josselyn who had 
done this thing, — who had loved Gladys only to hurt her, — 
wooed and won, only to relinquish her. It seemed impossible 
that he, so reverent, so chivalrous, so good-lived and simple, 
should have compromised such a sensitive girl as Gladys by 
his evil, — sacrificed her pride and tenderness to his sin and its 
consequences. Her first sentiment was of resentment, of in- 
censed indignation I But the pathos of the story softened her 
heart to the wrong of it. Poor Gladys 1 But still more truly, 
poor Joyce, to the bitterness of whose love-loss were added re- 
morse and penalty 1 The big, capable Colonel was a welcome 
intruder. He would advise her how to act towards '^her 
children"! 

'' Ah, ban atni^^ she exclaimed, '' we will have no secrets 



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6SO JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Aug^ 

from you. It must be that you know of this sorrow, this sin. 
Go, chirie^ while I speak in confidence to our Colonel." 

"No, Mam'selle," resisted Gladys. "We have no news for 
the Colonel. And to consult our friend is my privilege, too." 

"But that a young girl should discuss — . Non^ it is not 
convenable ! " 

"Dear Mam'selle, you know that I was on the brink of 
engagement to Joyce. Even were I, indeed, still the young 
gfirl you fancy me, one* not too young to love and be loved is 
not . too young to be womanly ! My heart, my convictions, 
are those of a woman. Mam'selle, you will help me to follow 
them?^' 

" But how, then ? " parried Mam'selle, afraid of concession. 

" By befriending my friends in their hour of trouble. Our 
hospitality in the present will make all the difference in their 
future 1 Our social sanction to the marriage will avert the 
world's stone. Mam'selle, I appeal to you not only in the 
name of your love for me,— of your friendship for Joyce, for 
years, now, as one of us,— of your respect and affection for 
his good, simple mother, — but in the name of your Christian 
charity, your Catholic tenderness ! Put yourself in their places, 
and see — " 

But Mam'selle drew herself up with an air of dignity. 
Even in imagination she could adapt herself to no place be- 
yond the pale of propriety. Charity was well, but invincible 
virtue — and virtue above reproach — was better; and though 
Joyce and his mother, of course, appealed to her, these 
unmentionable other persons were another story ! Really, for 
the unmarried, even of her years, the line of delicacy must be 
regarded. And as to Gladys, she was forgetting herself, — ex- 
ceeding her liberty — 

" Put yourself in their places," Gladys was repeating, with 
streaming eyes ; " and see what must hinge on the circum- 
stances of their wedding. The man and woman who on the 
day of their belated marriage find themselves social pariahs 
and human castaways, cannot but face a future without love, 
without hope, without courage to fight the good fight and 
conquer, because self-respect is lost with respect for each 
other. Shall the double loss lie at our door, Mam'selle ? The 
fact of the child-life alone is a. plea for the parents. The sin 
of the guilty, if remembered now, will be visited upon the 



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1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 651 

future of the innocent. And the sin, — O Mam'selle, grievous 
and terrible as it seems to us, was it not in God's Eyes a sin 
in the letter, rather than in the spirit ? We know Joyce's 
heedlessness before he found his soul 1 Father Martin knows 
the heart of the girl, and warmly vindicates her. Is it not 
our clear call to make their way of redemption easy? / hear 
it,— and I shall follow it ! " 

''To the pure all things are pure," said the Colonel, rever- 
ently. " My dear child, I am proud of you. You are Boyle 
Broderick's worthy daughter. But your self-sacrifice, on the 
present occasion, happily is unnecessary. My Ranch has been 
placed at Mrs. Josselyn's disposal. Dolly is to bring down the 
party to-night." 

''That is like you, dear Colonel 1 But your Ranch lacks a 
mistress. Only a woman can protect a woman from the world's 
cold shoulder. I know our social advantage, and for the first 
time value it ! It opens to me — my one labor of — love I " 

The brave words, shyly spoken, touched the Colonel un- 
utterably. Woman knows woman's heart, — man appreciates it 1 

"Then our dear Mam'selle will not oppose you," he said, 
with tact. "And I can venture to tell you what I have hesi- 
tated to confess, — that already I have the little scamp with 
me ! " 

" The — ^little — scamp, mon Colonel ? " 

" With you ? " echoed Gladys ; but her eager voice sank 
faintly. Unlike Mam'selle, she did not need to be told the 
identity of the little scamp. How she longed, — yet how she 
dreaded, to see him 1 

"Yes, I took him by storm from Mrs. Josselyn, and gave 
him the freedom of the Palace, while I broke the ice to you — " 

But the Colonel's sentence was never finished; for as he 
spoke a strange sound had startled all ears, — a sound affrighting 
only in its uncanny mystery. Was it the moan of the sea, or 
the dull detonation of a storm in the distance? Or was it a 
far-away wind, gathering volume as it approached ? No ! the 
ominous rumble was like these, and yet unlike them, — a sub- 
tefranean roll, as if of underground thunder. Simultaneously, 
animate Nature lifted its voice in panic. Discordant animal- 
cries sounded from the fields; and birds, flapping their wings, 
uttered notes shrill and startled. Terror seemed in the air, 
blind, helpless terror! Something hostile to life was imminent. 

VOL. LXXVII.— 42 



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652 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Aug.^ 

Of a -sudden the marble floor of the hall undulated vio- 
lently. As Gladys cried out in fear, the Colonel's voice lifted. 

" Out of the house ! " he commanded, in tones ringing 
through the Ranch. " Out to the shore. Shun the buildings. 
It is an earthquake ! " 

" Mon Dieu ! " ejaculated Mam'selle. Then she sank back 
palely. Fright had paralyzed her. She was limp and helpless. 

*' Out of the house ! " repeated the Colonel, gesturing Gladys 
to obey him. As she staggered towards . the door ceiling and 
walls swayed together. The Colonel unceremoniously gathered 
Mam'selle into his arms. Then, pushing the stumbling and 
reeling Gladys before him, he dashed down the steps towards 
the shore. 

There was a hiss from the sea, and a retreat from the shore 
of the shallows, which seethed and then sunk, as if sucked 
down by some vortex. Then they swelled, sweeping inland in 
one monster billow, as the submerged beach rocked like a cra- 
dle. At the same instant frightened snorts from the mare pre- 
ceded a clatter of hoofs, and, bit in teeth, she dashed away 
from her post, in mad terror. Glancing after her, the Colonel 
saw the glass house, and remembered. " O my God ! " he 
cried. " O my God ! " 

"The child. Colonel, the little child," Gladys sobbed, strain- 
ing forward. The glass house, shivering and slanting, scintil- 
lated dazzlingly. 

Sinking to his knees, the Colonel laid Mam'selle at full length 
on the lawn. The frightened servants and Ranch-hands, fleeing 
from the out-buildings, huddled about her. Followed by Gladys 
alone, he forced his way towards the Palace. But she stag- 
gered and fell, as sea and earth heaved about her. 

" Come^ boy^ come ! " he called, gaining the glass-roofed 
portico; but his voice and extended hands were alike un- 
heeded by the child they summoned. Midway in the main 
structure, OYie hand clinched on the fountain's ledge, one still 
grasping a long-stemmed cluster of water-lilies, little Joy 
crouched with distended eyes, and face blanched with terror. 
He had been so happy, so fearless, — then something had hap- 
pened ! What made everything move ? Why were the big pots 
of flowers falling and breaking, around him? Was the white 
lady of the fountain alive, that she tottered towards him ? 
Was he dizzy, or was the whole world whirling ? 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 653 

" I 'm fwightened/' he sobbed as the Colonel reached him. 
Clinging still to his lilies, he hugged his rescuer convulsively. 
The quivering child-form touched the Colonel's fatherliness. 
He pressed the paling little face to his breast. 

" Frightened ? Shame, little man ! We '11 be out of this in 
a jiffy." 

But the Colonel, for once, failed to honor his promise. 
The last shock, — by far the most violent shock of all, — vibrated. 
It was verticose in its movement, — which means a fatality. As 
it lessened, he strained breathlessly towards the comparative 
safety of the portico. But on its threshold a blinding reflec- 
tion of shimmering crystal flashed behind and about him, — 
plate-glass rasped and scraped against glass, as panes jolted 
from their casements, shattering one on another. Giant flower- 
pots, hurled from their tiers, crushed the jardinieres at their 
base. Last of all, yet most significant of dire disaster, the 
white Aphrodite, tossed from her pedestal, crashed upon the 
fountain's ledge. 

"Colonel, quick/'* Gladys screamed, as, with a sway to 
the left, the Palace settled for its flnal fall. 

The Colonel heard the despairing cry, and realized the 
gravity of its warning. Loosening Joy's clasp by main force, 
he flung him forwards, aiming for the soft grass of the safe, 
open lawn. None too soon, for at the same instant a massive 
pane felled the Colonel, and a shower of infinitesimal splinters 
buried and shrouded him in shattered glass. But the house, as 
it fell, carried the portico with it; and a descending pane col- 
lided with Joy's flying body. Its jagged edge gashed his neck, 
and he cried aloud in pain and fright as the sharp cut stung 
him. Then something warm and soft soothed the cruel smart, 
and he lay in the ruins, quite stilly. As the deafening crash 
of the glass house's fall, and the dazzling, stinging cloud of 
crystal-dust subsided, the Ranch-hands sped to the Colonel's 
succor, but Gladys, — Gladys sank on her knees by Joyce's 
child. 

Still clutching his lilies, he lay on his side ; his pale profile, 
his closed eyes, suggesting to Gladys, at worst, a mere swoon 
from shock and terror. She kissed him passionately, fondly 
believing that she kissed him back to consciousness. But as 
she lifted his light form, she cried out and shuddered at the 
red pool beneath it. From a severed artery little Joy's life- 



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654 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Aug., 

blood ebbed slowly, surely, — yet so painlessly that he made no 
cry, no moan. As she kissed him, and called his name, his 
eyes fluttered open, — ty^s so like Joyce's own in their violet 
beauty, sadly misted now by death's deepening film ! Into her 
face he smiled tremulously, — bright, brave little Joy, — then 
closed his child-eyes for ever! 

^^ Joy!*' cried Pearl, as Mrs. Josselyn and Dolly alone met 
her, late that evening. Tidings of the earthquake had reached 
the travellers even en route; and though no particulars had 
been wired, the heart of the young mother was faint within 
her. 

From their last stand she had rushed on ahead of the 
troupe. For Joyce's sake, for Joy's sake, she must arrive ob- 
scurely. But there was no little Joy to reward her discretion. 
'^Joy,'* she demanded of Mrs. Josselyn. "My little Joy 1" 

Dolly, who knew the truth, flinched; but Mrs. Josselyn ex- 
plained plausibly. She was not imaginative, and had no fear 
that all was not well with Joy. Within the city limits the 
shocks had been felt but lightly ; and she had thought Joyce 
hysterical when, stunned by the news of the Colonel's elope- 
ment with Joy, just as despatches were pouring in reporting 
calamities along the coast, he had started in haste for the Ranch, 
turning back to say passionately the first words . of awakening 
fatherhood ! 

" My little son ! " he cried, (never before had he admitted 
the relationship, never before uttered the love-name ! ) " My 
little son ! who loved ' his new papa,' — never knowing his 
wrong — his unworthiness ! Only this afternoon I begrudged 
him the atonement I owed him. Only this afternoon I almost 
hated his beautiful little face, his tender lips, his clinging arms^ 
his little hands, because his life stood between me and Gladys. 
Now, mother, I tell you that if Heaven gives me my choice, I 
say, spare me my son — ^my little son who loves me ! If any- 
thing should happen to him while in our charge, — how could 
you or I meet his mother ? " 

But it had been an easy thing for Dolly to keep the bulle- 
tins and extras from the simple woman, and no knowledge of 
the truth disturbed her serenity. Yet Pearl was not comforted. 
A prophetic dread weighed upon her. She ignored Dolly's 
gallantries as though they were not; refused the supper set 



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1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 655 

out for her in the special, and sat in silence, staring into the 
pane made opaque by exterior darkness. She was handsome, 
Dolly decided, but had the deuce of a temper. Finding his cour- 
teous inquiries answered only in monosyllables, he turned his mas- 
culine attention towards the demolishment of the supper. At 
the station Bob met them, — the Colonel's Bob, — though with the 
Golden Gate carriage. Tantalizing phrases of his excited aside 
to Dolly were audible to the interested bystanders. 

" Could n't hold her, do my best, sir. Had to jump to save 
myself. Legs broken, poor old girl, — Colonel ordered her shot. 
— ^Yes, sir, one arm broken, and bad injuries, but not fatal. 
Almost killed himself to save — . Yes, sir, died off like — like an 
angel, sir ! " And here poor Bob, in remembrance of the child 
who had won his heart, ignominiously broke down and snif- 
fled. 

"Who was killed?" questioned Pearl, in a voice low with 
dread. 

•* The Colonel's mare," shouted Dolly, slamming the brougham 
door; and whispered to Bob "to drive like the devil." 

Over the dark road, through the silence, the wheels whirled 
recklessly. The sea surged, and the bell on Island Rock tolled 
its dirge. Pearl, crouching in her corner, shuddered. 

It was Gladys who, at the open door, waited to welcome 
the strangers, — a wan Gladys, with eyes wearied with weeping. 

" Dear Mrs. Josselyn," she faltered, " I will join you in 
the library, in a moment. This new friend I am going to ask 
directly up stairs. There is some one — who is waiting — ^to see 
her ! " 

**j0yf** translated Pearl, with an eye- flash of gladness. 

Gladys' grave face saddened. Pearl began to tremble. Sud- 
denly Gladys' tender young arms enfolded her. 

" Oh, you poor girl ! " she sobbed. ** Oh, you poor girl, 
God help you ! " And in that heart- cry the sad tidings were 
spoken. 

Pearl sank down on the stairs, limp and numb, almost 
swooning. But she bit her white lips, and retained conscious- 
ness by force of will. " So," she said, when' words came, " you 
. have killed him between you ! " Then sobs choked her, — rend- 
ing sobs of heart-bitterness. 

" In heroic effort to save him a brave soldier risked his 
life. No one could avert the sudden accident; it was caused 



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6S6 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Aug. 

by the earthquake. Dear, he went with a smile, — his little 
hand full of flowers. When you see him — you will feel — he is 
happy ! " 

" Oh, I knew it," raved Pearl, swaying to and fro in her 
anguish. " I think I have known always — that the end would 
come — suddenly ! But not to be with him ! My God, what a 
punishment ! I was his mother — his mother — his mother — ** 

" Yes,, you are his mother, — his mother for ever ! The soul 
yours on earth awaits you in heaven. The way is so sure when 
a little child leads us ! Life and death will be love's roads to 
—Joy I'' 

" Take me to him ; oh, take me. My fatherless baby ! " 

" Not fatherless now. Pearl. Death is kinder than life to 
him. Forgive, dear, — in little Joy's name." 

She led the way to an upper door, which she rlosed as Pearl 
entered. The room was fragrant with flowers, and lighted only 
by shaded candles. On a bed of bloom little Joy slept his 
sleep of innocence. His childish form lay at ease, — his little 
hand still clung to its sweet white lilies; in its restful beauty 
his face was as the pure, fair face of a sculptured angel. Here 
was not death, but immortal youth ! 

As Pearl swayed towards the bed, her eyes flxed in blind 
anguish on its exquisite burden, a figure kneeling at the oppo- 
site side rose and leaned across it. 

" Pearl ! " whispered a voice, familiar, sob-broken. All of 
remorse, all of pain, all of tenderest pity a man can know, 
rang true in the pleading accents. 

Thus Joyce and Pearl, — the man and woman who had sinned 
in their youth, met again ; with the child of their sin, — sinless, 
smiling, between them : 

By the grace of the Christ who loved little children, called 
and chosen for the kingdom of heaven ! 

(to be concluded.) 



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V^ 










StEXA from PEIltND SaN UOMENILO. 

fB}^ courtesy of The Macmiilan Coptpany.) 



^ 



THE HISTORICAL REVIVAL IN SIENESE TREASURES/ 

IN TWO PARTS, 
by f. w. parsons. 

Part II. 

|URING that era of prosperity and civic pride to 
which I have alluded works of architecture and 
sculpture were multiplied on every side. The 
cause of art was truly " blended with that of an 
ardent communal patriotism; the Sienese troops 
were bringing back among the spoils of conquered cities those 
columns of oriental marble and those marble lions which sup- 
port the pulpit sculptured by Niccolo Pisano."t Living in a 
community imbued with these sentiments it quite naturally ap- 

* The Story of Siena and San Gimij^nano. By Edmund G. Gardner. Illustrated by 
Helen M. James, and many reproductions from the works of Painters and Sculptors- 
The Macmiilan Company, New York f A. Geflfroy. 




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658 Historical revival in Sienese Treasures. [Aug., 

peared, therefore, to the administrators of Biccherna and of 
Gabella almost as a point of honor to invite the best masters 
to decorate their tavolette, or book- covers. 

"The greatest artists of the middle ages and of the Renais- 
sance disdained not either the least parts of their art nor the 
most familiar occasions for its exercise. The local archives" 
(of Siena) '' show artists of renown, Simone Martini, or Memmi, 
the -friend of Petrarch ; later Sodoma, Beccafumi, and others, 
decorating, for the confraternities, or for the commune, banners, 
catafalques, coffins, coffers, altar-cloths, escutcheons. Art showed 
itself everywhere, as happens in times when its fecundity over- 
flows, or, better yet, when the public taste, after a brilliant, quick- 
ened, and refined period, turns to utility the opulence of a so- 
ciety polished to luxury that a skilful daintiness sets off and 
makes the most of."* 

Thus it happened that the Sienese book- covers, or tavolette, 
were not long limited to portraits of the camerlingo. Outgoing 
officials desired to give their administration a certain distinction 
by adding to the covers of their registers artistic decoration, 
•constituting complete pictures in miniature. The decoration 
soon adorned three- fourths of the cover and finally all of it 

The tavolette of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries 
commemorated truths in sacred history. Christian belief, or 
tradition ; sometimes also events in local history, wars of the 
republic, or allegories of ideal government and its beneficent re- 
sults. A right comprehension of Sienese art, in any of its 
manifestations, is not "possible without a keen appreciation of 
the passionate religious faith of the people, as a whole, whether 
of high or low degree. In those times faith in the supernatural 
order of the unseen world was very real and intense. The 
direct interposition of Almighty God in human affairs, and the 
influence of the Blessed Virgin and of the saints, in behalf of 
cities, communes, and states were as much factors in civic and 
military life as the strength and number of contending factions, 
the troops that could be mustered into service, or their equip- 
ment in weapons of offence and defence. 

By the flrst clause in their constitution, of the fourteenth 
century, the associated artists of Siena declared themselves to 
be, " through the grace of God, manifestors to gross men, that 
know not letters, of the marvellous things wrought by virtue 

• A. Geflfroy, op, cii. 



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1903.] Historical Revival in Sienese Treasures. 659 







■j>^"- 



The Duomo of Siena. 
(By courtesy of Tht Macmillan Compatiy.) 

and in virtue of the holy faith." This is the keynote to all 
Sienese art, a school too little known, and unappreciated by 
those who are either of the earth earthy, or incapable of seeing 
anything in representations of the Redeemer of the world, the 
great Mother of God, or the glorified saints of the celestial 
country, save only line, drawing, flesh-tints, and anatomy. Those 
who are blind to the soul of a picture, and see nothing there 
but technique, had better confine themselves to the art of 
decadent France, and class the art of Siena as that of ''the 
primitives." 

Perhaps through the spirit in which their work was con- 
ceived and executed, anonymity has been preserved by Sienese 



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66o HISTORICAL REVIVAL IN SlENESE TREASURES. [Aug, 

artists in these tavolette, or panel pictures, that adorned the 
exterior of books of financial record. Nevertheless, of such of 
them as are gathered together in the archives of Siena accurate 
attributions have been made by Signor Banchi, A. Lisini, and 
C. Paoli, of Siena, and by Americans (by birth or naturaliza- 
tion), such as F. Mason Perkins, Bernard Berenson, and Wil- 
liam Heywood. The magnificent and richly illustrated work of 
Mr. F. Mason Perkins on the Sienese painters, just brought 
out in French (and soon also, I think, in English) by Levy of 
Paris, covers the whole field of Sienese art, in which an in- 
creasing degree of interest is being shown, extending also to 
the wonderful architecture that remains to us from the middle 
ages, more perfect in Siena than elsewhere in Italy. 

The tavolette of the fifteenth century largely illustrated 
notable events in Sienese history. An event leaving a very 
lasting impression on the Sienese people was the stay among 
them, for nearly a year, of the Emperor Sigismund. Rome 
was the objective point of his journey, but he lingered in Siena 
while engaged in controversy with Pope Eugenius IV. regard- 
ing the Council of Basil and the terms of his coronation. Two 
tavolette are known to have commemorated imperial acts; one, 
of the office of Gabella (now lost), represented the emperor 
enthroned at the entrance to the Sienese Palazzo Pubblico, sur- 
rounded by officials of his empire, and in the act of adminis- 
tering the oath of allegiance to mag^istrates of the republic; 
another, of Biccherna, depicts Sigismund's subsequent corona- 
tion, in 1433, by Pope Eugenius IV. This last event is also 
commemorated in the central panels of the great bronze doors 
of St. Peter's of Rome, executed during the pontificate of 
this same pope. In that wonderful series of pictures, in 
stone, that make the pavement of the Cathedral of Siena with- 
out a parallel in Italy, an inlaid, pavement portrait, designed 
by Domenico di Bartolo, in 1434, represents the Emperor 
Sigismund enthroned and seated under a classic canopy sup- 
ported by pillars crowned with Ionic capitals. The architectural 
drawing of this design is beautiful. 

In 1467 earthquakes of such violence occurred in Siena 
that the inhabitants forsook their houses and sought shelter in 
tents, wooden huts and booths, erected in the public piazza and 
elsewhere in and around the city. Girolamo Gigli, the Sienese 
chronicler, relates how Almighty God delivered the city from 



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Decorated Book Coves. 1494 a.d. Work of Matteo di Giovanni, represent- 
ing THE Presentation of the Blessed Virgin in the Temple. 



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662 Historical Revival in Sienese Treasures. [Aug., 

these trials and dangers by the special intercession (as was 
believed at the time) of the Blessed Virgin Mary, after public 
petitions had been offered up before a " miraculous image 
of the great Mother of God," at that time venerated near 
Viterbo. A tavoletta of this date represents the Madonna and 
angels in the heavens, while around the towered and walled 
city are the temporary habitations of the terror-stricken inhabi- 
tants. In thanksgiving a delegation of twelve prominent citi- 
zens was sent from Siena with a votive offering to the shrine 
near Viterbo, and a fresco, in the municipal palace of Viterbo, 
shows this Sienese deputation humbly kneeling in gratitude to 
God and to her who was the chief patron of their city for their 
deliverance from these dangers and disasters. 

Giovanni di Paolo and his school decorated a large number 
of the tavolette, or book- covers, of the fifteenth century. This 
artist was one of the masters who, with Sano di Pietro, Lorenzo 
di Pietro (styled the Vecchietta), and Matteo di Giovanni main- 
tained, in the fifteenth century, the prosperity of the Sienese 
school. Sano di Pietro especially labored for the commune and 
the guilds almost without cessation. Besides his wonderful 
miniatures, already described, and many tavolette of the Sienese 
records, his inexhaustible artistic energy turned out banners, 
altar-pieces, mural frescoes, etc. 

The range of subjects, illustrated by the tavolette of the 
fifteenth century, comprises portraits of saints and beatified 
Sienese, truths of revelation, and a varied assortment of his- 
torical events and allegorical designs significant of local condi- 
tions, or history. To this latter class belongs a beautifully 
preserved tablet depicting the Blessed Virgin (for centuries 
known as the Advocate of the Sienese) recommending the city 
of Siena to God. The kneeling figure of the Madonna appears 
with uplifted face, of great sweetness and beauty, appealing to 
our Lord to infuse into the factious and turbulent Sienese a 
spirit of unity and civic concord. This much- needed public 
sentiment is symbolized by a cord or rope, drawn around a 
raised model of the city. In her right hand the Virgin Mother 
bears a scroll, upon which are inscribed the words: Hec est 
Civita Mea (This is my city, or state). This title of owner- 
ship originated with the Sienese, who, after Montaperti, stamped 
upon their coins, " City of the Virgin." This beautiful tavo- 
letta is attributed, by M. Berenson, to Neroccio di Landi, but 



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1903.] Historical Revival in Sienese Treasures. 663 

by Lisini of Siena and A. Geffroy, late of the French school 
of Rome, to Francesco di Giorgio Martini. This last attribu-^ 
tion seems more probable. Painter, sculptor, engineer, archi- 
tect, and soldier, Francesco di Giorgio Martini even had a hand 
in the government of the repub- 
lic, and his versatility of talent 
made him sought for by all the 
states of Italy. 

Four existing tavolctte of the 
quatrocento record events in the 
life and career of iEneas Sylvius 
Piccolomini, Pope Pius IL, whose 
family gave two popes to the 
church and whose name is for 
ever identified with Siena, his 
native city. In the tavolette 
which pictures him 
in the act of con- 
ferring the cardi- 
nal's hat upon his 
nephew, Frances- 
co Piccolomini (af- 
terwards Pope 
Pius III.), it is in- 
teresting to note 
among several ar- 
morial bearings, 
the coat- of- arms 
of the Pecci fami- 
ly. The genea- 
logy of this latter 
family has been 
traced out by the industry of several Italian writers, and among 
the. archives of Siena is a letter from Pope Leo XIII. to the 
Confraternity of St. Catherine, in which His Holiness expresses 
his belief in the Sienese origin of his family. 

A tavoletta of 1473, executed by Sano di Pietro, at the age 
of sixty-seven, is remarkable for its exquisite finish and perfect 
preservation, and valuable also for its display of costumes of 
the period. It represents the marriage, at Bologna, of Roberto 
da San Severino, at one time captain of war of the republic of 




.The Palace of the Commune. 
(By courtesy of The Macmillan Company.) 



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66+ Historical Revival in Sienese Treasures. [Aug., 

Siena, to Lucrezia Malavolti, of one of the most ancient and 
illustrious families of the city, and perhaps the most beautiful 
woman of her time. 

Mr. Berenson maintains that Sienese art exhausted itself in 
presenting the ideals and feelings of the middle ages. Certain- 
ly, Sodoma came in from Lombardy, Fra Paolino from Flor- 
ence, and Pinturicchio, Perugino and Signorelli, all of the 
Umbrian school, exerted a powerful influence upon Sienese 
art, but some or all of these were themselves influenced by its 
traditions. ** There resulted," as Mr. Berenson says, ** from all 
these mingled influences a most singular and charming eclec- 
ticism — ^saved from the pretentiousness and folly, usually con- 
trolling such movements, by the sense for grace and beauty 
even to the last seldom absent from the Sienese."* Signer 
Paoli,. of Siena, has aptly said of this blending of different 
schools and its resultant art, that "Sodoma was its Leonardo, 
Baldassare Peruzzi its Raphael, and Beccafumi its Michael 
Angelo." 

During the first half of the sixteenth century more than 
ever were the scenes on the coveis of treasury registers bor- 
rowed from local history, religious personages or events. The 
manner and style of these productions then ceased to show the 
distinctive character which has made attribution of authorship 
easy, with those of the preceding century. Entries of pay- 
ment for these artistic commissions, for the offices of Biccherna 
and Gabella, are more frequently absent from the current ac- 
counts. In many of them the identity of the artist is unknown. 
Giorgio di Giovanni executed a number of those whose origin 
is clear, and the influence of Beccafumi, or of his school, is ap- 
parent in others. 

By the middle of the fifteenth century paper had, to a 
great extent, taken the place of parchment as material for 
treasury books of record, and buffalo hide and other kinds of 
leather gradually superseded tavolette, or boards, as covers, 
or binding, for the registers. The records of vital statistics 
and of hospital administration were still bound in decorated 
panels, leather backed ; following the idea, and in a fashion 
somewhat similar to that established by the offices of Bic- 
cherna and of Gabella, and the pictorial character was pre- 
served by the hospital managers as late as the seventeenth 

* Bernard Berenson, The Central Italian painters of the Renaissance. 



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1903.] Historical Revival in Sienese Treasures. 665 

century. As specimens of panel or miniature painting, on 
gesso or wood, those of the hospital of Santa Maria della 
Scala are greatly inferior to those executed by order of the 
treasury offices. They have, however, a distinct interest and 
value for the student of Sienese life and history, or of mediaeval 
costume. The adop- 
tion of paper insides 
and leather bindings, 
for treasury books of . 
account, led to the 
abandonment of tavo- 
Ictte, the decorative : 
panel covers, painted 
in distemper, on gesso, 
or gold ground. 

Officials of finance 
still desired to com- 
memorate their ad- 
ministration by some 
tangible memorial of 
stirring scenes or events 
with which they had 
been identified, or which 
had largely occupied 
the public mind during 
their term of service. 
This impulse found ex- the great gray stone Fala«:e of the Tolomei. 
preSSion in a series of (By courtesy of The Macmillan Company) 

panel pictures, which were practically an enlargement of the 
tavolette, now superseded by leather in the binding of books of 
record. These larger tavole (boards or panels) varied in size, 
but were intended for wall decoration, and they were synchro- 
nous with the treasury records of each administration. 

One of the most beautiful of the tavole, or larger panel 
pictures, commemorates the reform of the calendar by Pope 
Gregory XIII. It is of date of 1582 and shows far greater 
artistic merit than most of these larger miniatures. In historic 
interest it has great value, for several reasons. In planning the 
reform the pope prepared a draft of the proposed change and 
referred it to learned men everywhere for an expression of 
their views. Among the Italian opinions sent to Rome were 




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666 Historical Revival in Sienese Treasures. [Aug., 

two from Sienese scholars, one from Alessandro Piccolomini, 
Bishop of Patrasso, and one from Father Teofilo Marzio, a 
Benedictine monk of the Cassinese Congregation. Moreover, 
while nations and states lagged behind in adopting the reform, 
it was proclaimed in Siena but a few months after the issuance 
of the Papal bull on this subject. Although the artist who 
executed this tavola has not been identified, there is reason 
to believe that some figures in the groups of churchmen and 
savants shown in the picture are actual portraits. 

These tavole, or panel paintings, synchronous with treasury 
registers of corresponding date, continued to appear, at the 
retirement of each outgoing administration, during the sixteenth 
and seventeenth centuries. In 1557 Cosimo de Medicis obtained 
control of Siena, and although the rule of that house was op- 
pressive everywhere, yet most of the republican offices were 
continued under the Medicis. The office of Bicchema was not 
finally suppressed until the latter end of the. eighteenth century, 
and the esecutori of Gabella exercised their functions until the 
French occupation of Tuscany in 1808. There are nearly forty 
of these tavole, or panel paintings, now preserved among the 
archives of Siena. Towards the last they became more preten- 
tious and were painted in oil and upon canvas. Some adminis- 
trators of finance have commemorated their official incumbency 
by notable frescoes on the walls of their later offices, in the 
Palazzo Pubblico of Siena, that magnificent structure of the 
middle ages, with its stately Mangia Tower. 

The first leather bindings that encased the treasury records 
were extremely plain. Later they received stamping of a more 
or less ornate kind, each stage of artistic development showing 
progressive skill and finish. Finally gilding appeared in designs 
of great delicacy and beauty. The leather bindings of the 
sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries show a com- 
plete evolution in the art of book- binding, in the quality, style, 
and color of the leather employed, and the character and variety 
of its decoration. The magnificent book- bindings, all executed 
by hand, in Siena to-day, and which are so highly esteemed by 
such art- lovers as are familiar with them, are reproductions in 
facsimile of the treasury registers in the Royal Archives of 
State. 

The vandalism that marked the French domination in 
Tuscany was the first cause that led to the removal and sub- 



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1903.] Historical Revival in Sienese Treasures. 667 




The Blessed Virgin recommending the City op Siena to the Protection op 
HER Divine Son. Work of Francesco di Giorgio Martini, a.d. 1470. 



VOL. LXXVII. — 43 



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668 HISTORICAL REVIVAL IN SlENESE TREASURES. [Aug., 

sequent loss of a vast majority of the beautifully decorated 
tavolette that served as covers for the treasury records. The 
French did not consider them "in the taste of the times." In 
more than one part of Italy sad evidence can be gathered 
to-day of the character of that vandal horde .that overran the 
Peninsula under the Corsican adventurer. From a comparison 
of dates of such of the tavolette, or actual book covers, and of 
the larger panel pictures, as are now preserved in the Sienese 
archives, it is clear that this method of commemorating official 
terms of office continued for at least four hundred and thirty- 
two years. As a new set of accounts was opened every six 
months, with each incoming administration of the offices of 
Biccherna and Gabella, there must have been an enormous 
number of these panel pictures that have been lost, scattered, 
or destroyed^ About fifty are now preserved in Siena of the 
pictorial book-covers ; the Industrial Museum of Berlin possesses 
four of these pictorial covers, of the fourteenth century and 
one of the fifteenth; three of the fourteenth century are in the 
department of manuscripts of the Biblioth^que Nationale of 
Paris; one hangs in the Christian Museum of the Lateran, in 
Rpme. ,^ 

After the first dispersion tlie pictorial book-covers of their 
records were so little appreciated, even by the Sienese them- 
selves, that Ramboux, a German artist of Cologne, acquired 
thirty-one of them at very low prices, picking them up here 
and there at street comers and antiquity shops. The Ramboux 
collection was sold after that artist's death, in 1866. The city 
of Cologne purchased some and others passed to Berlin and 
Paris, there being added to the museum and library I have 
named. Thanks to the enlightened care and zeal of Signor L. 
Banchi, late director of the archives of Siena, the Sienese col- 
lection has been enlarged from various sources, notably by the 
generous addition of those formerly in the possession of Count 
Piccolomini of Pienza. 

The archives of Siena, as at present constituted, are the 
outgrowth of a governmental eflfort to gather together in one 
place all records of a past rich in glorious or historic memories, 
immensely valuable in * themselves, and forming, in their en- 
semble, a mine of interest or information to students of history, 
of biography, and of art. This work of the government has 
been supplemented by the aid of such institutions as the Monte 



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1903.] Historical Revival in Sienese Treasures. 669 

dei Paschi, a powerful loan association, whose profits are ex- 
pended in works of public utility, and by gifts of private in- 
dividuals. In this way' the archives have been successively en- 
larged in 1867, 1873, and again in 1885. 

In 1867 an exposition hall was inaugurated in the Pic- 
colomini Palace, with a view to placing before visitors important 
specimens of the varied letters, documents, manuscript books, 
etc., most characteristic of the different phases of Sienese life 
and history, in all their manifestations and many-sided activities. 
It was originally intended, by the late director, Signor Banchi, 
to change these exhibits from time to time, for the benefit of 
that increasing number of persons who make successive visits 
to Siena through the lapse of years. This last excellent ideia 
has not, however, been carried out ; at least, not for many 
years. 

Siena, Italy. 




House of St. Catherine. 
(By courtesy of The Macmillan Company } 



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670 The Perils OF Unauthorized DOGMATISM. [Aug., 



THE PERILS OF UNAUTHORIZED DOGMATISM. 

BY CHARLES M. WESTCOTT. 

BREADTH, 

" Who hath weighed the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance. . . . Behold 
He taketh up the isles as a very little thing." — Isaias xi. 12. 

JT is well at times to ** take wings of fancy and 
ascend" to God's throne and look down upon 
the littleness of created things with His eyes ; to 
remember that the value which things bear (and 
must and ought to bear) to us as great and im- 
portant, is but relative to the smallness and narrowness of our life. 
Yet to dwell ever in so high and rarefied an atmosphere 
would paralyze our energies ; and for the most part it is better 
for us to yield ourselves to the self - magnifying illusions of our 
imagination, lest, wishing to be as gods, we should become as 
beasts. But to yield ourselves consciously, and not uncon- 
sciously, to this illusion, is what saves us from our pettiness; 
just as the knowledge of our ignorance and the sense of the 
inadequacy of our ideas redeem us from utter darkness and 
blindness. Therefore, from time to time we should " consider 
the heavens " and dwarf ourselves and our little earth by com- 
parison with things sublime and immense, lest we should 
altogether give, instead of merely lending, ourselves to the play 
of life, in which we must bear our part with a certain outward 
seriousness, if the tragedy is not to be turned into burlesque. 
Without some such periodic bracing we shall not reach that 
divine magnanimity, that imperturbable tranquillity of which it 
is written : " They that trust in the Lord " (i. e., that believe 
in him as the one absolute reality, beside which all others are 
shadowy, that care for him as the one thing worth taking 
altogether seriously) " shall be as Mount Sion that shall never 
be moved*'; they shall share God's own mountain-like immobil- 
ity as regards events and concerns which, however relatively 
serious, are ultimately infinitesimal. 

Behind all their clouds they will be ever conscious of this 
clear, untroubled ether ; beneath life's surface storms they will 
be aware of unfathomed depths of stillness. They will weigh 



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1903.] The Perils OF Unauthorized Dogmatism. 671 

mountains in the scales and the hills in a balance, and will take 
up the islands as a very little thing. 

" Qui multo peregrinantur/' says A Kempis, " raro sanctifican- 
tur" — great pilgrims are rarely great saints; what they gain at 
the shrines is lost on the road. And yet travel, in some sense 
of the word, is a necessity for the soul. Its effect is to open 
the mind and cure its provincialism or parochialism ; to convince 
us of our ignorance and insignificance, for in small surroundings 
we loom big. Even in a very large empty room we are 
shrivelled up and begin to long for some cosier apartment of 
which we shall fill a more appreciable fraction. The field of 
our total experiences, past and present, seems, like that of our 
vision, to be of a constant and limited compasd ; so that, as 
new items are added to the mosaic, the rest are crowded 
together to make room for them. Thus, roughly speaking, to 
a child of seven, a year, being one-seventh of its total ex- 
perience, seems ten times longer than to a man of seventy ; 
and he who has now a thousand interests, cares ten times less 
about any of them than had he only a hundred. 

Hence, it is characteristic of those whose experience is 
narrow, owing to youth or to other circumstances, to lose that 
sense of proportion which is gained by viewing things, not from 
a personal, parochial, or national, but from an historical and 
more universal stand- point. To travel through humanity, past 
and present; to view things as they constitute part of that 
universal experience ; this gives us a most valuable aspect of 
truth. Yet, after all, it is but one, even if a more important 
aspect, and it needs to be complemented by the other and 
narrower aspect. If an event, relatively to humanity, is truly 
small, relatively to me it is none the less truly great; and 
only God, who can keep both the universal and the particular 
aspects CO- present to his gaze, can judge events altogether 
justly. And even in the case of the widest outlook of which 
we are capable, events seem immeasurably larger than they 
would from the stand- point of the infinite, whence they would 
vanish into nothingness for minds constituted as ours are. 

Thus the effect of a too great largeness of view is often 
weakening and enervating, except when the faculty of concrete 
imagination is relatively strong. Indecision and hesitancy 
characterize a mind which is possessed of more information 



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672 The Perils of Una uthorized Dogma tism, [Aug., 

than it can comfortably grapple with, which sees a thousand 
sides to every question, and range after range of mountainous 
difficulties stretching away into the future; nor can it ever 
possess that concentrated strength of affection and interest, 
that intensity and enthusiasm of which a certain narrowness 
seems the indispensable condition. For little creatures like 
ourselves narrowness is the lesser evil ; for if we go too far 
from ourselves we shall perchance lose ourselves in the dreary 
void of the infinite. Life is love and action, and these are 
paralyzed by distraction and indecision ; for they deal with the 
concrete and particular. But, with us, to be broad and com- 
prehensive means leaving the concrete and particular for the • 
abstract and general. For we are men, and not gods. It is 
the pent up steam that does work, not that which escapes ; 
and since sanctification means intensity and enthusiasm, he will 
rarely be a saint who travels too much. Yet neither will he 
who travels too little ; for man has a measure in reference to 
which " broad " and " narrow " have a true meaning, the one 
good and the other evil. 

NARROWNESS, 

" Enter ye in at the strait gate.*' — Matt. vii. 14. 

There are broad and narrow ways of thinking and acting. 
Narrowness is a term of reproach ; so that we usually affect 
" breadth," however much we all lack it. Yet Christ seems to 
censure wide, roomy ways of thought and life; and, moreover, 
it is accepted generally that there is a certain safety in narrow- 
ness. " Good people " are usually more or less narrow, not 
only with that voluntary narrowness which is implied in all 
concentration of energy and decision ot purpose, and is simply 
a necessary mortification of rejected possibilities in the interest 
of that which has been accepted; but often with a sort of 
inborn narrowness which is the cause rather than the effect of 
their goodness. " How hardly shall they that have riches enter 
into the Kingdom of God," seems to have its application here 
as well. 

Again, the same an ti- liberal disposition which cleaves natur- 
ally to tradition, custom, and precedent, and refuses to discuss 
moral or religious problems on their own intrinsic merits, is 
very conducive to uniformity of conduct, and thereby to depth 
or stability of habit. It helps much to decision and energy iYi 
well-doing to believe in sharply defined lines between truth and 



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£ 903. ] THE Perils of Una uthorized Dogma tism, 673 

error, good and evil ; to believe that there is no truth outside 
one's own creed or school, and no good whatever in worldly 
or irreligious people; to feel that there is everything to be 
said for one side, and nothing at all for the other; whereas, 
resolution is often relaxed by the decay of this almost tribal 
instinct, this firm faith in conventional judgments, as a substi- 
tute for which our own dim intuition of things, not as they 
are said to be, but as they really seem to ourselves, is feeble 
and ineffectual. 

If, then, all men tend to an excess either of conservatism or 
of liberalism, the virtuous will in the main be found in the 
former class. But none the less, nothing is more strikingly 
characteristic of Christ's own teaching and practice than its 
breadth and charitable comprehensiveness. If he was intolerant 
of anything, it was of intolerance ; of the censorious Pharisee ; 
of the tyrannical priest; of the pedantic scribe; of the hair- 
splitting lawyer and moralist; of the materialistic and literal, 
as opposed to the Catholic and spiritual interpretation of God's 
law. Yet he tells us that the path to the higher and eternal 
life of the spirit -is narrow and hard to find; whereas the wide 
and easy path leads down to spiritual death. 

The eternal life of the soul is the life of the higher thoughts 
and affections, the life of truth and love; and it is a matter 
of reason and common sense that all darkness and error is 
some kind of narrowness, some lack of experience, some un- 
willingness or inability to look truth in the face. It is because 
wj never see all things together, but must always treat what is 
oaly a part as though it were a complete self-explanatory 
whole, that the broadest human view is narrow, inadequate, 
and to some extent positively misleading — so that all our truths 
are necessarily alloyed with error, and will ensnare whoever 
does not recognize the fact. And, as regards the affections, 
are they not dwarfed, perverted, and even exterminated by 
narrowness, by selfishness of every kind ? Is not breadth of 
sympathy, catholicity of taste, comprehensiveness of love, the 
very essence of eternal life ? 

Plainly then, though eternal life means a certain breadth 
and expansion of the soul, yet the path that leads to it is 
narrow, and few there be that find it. Narrowness of mind 
and heart is as easy as selfishness and ignorance ; the way that 
leads to that spiritual death is wide, easy, and down-hill, and 

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674 The perils of unauthorized Dogmatism. [Aug., 

many there be that go in thereat. Truth and goodness alike 
consist in a certain mean, in a difficult and delicate adjustment 
of the motives of belief and action. The path to life is along^ 
a narrow ridge from which it is easy to slip down on one side 
or the other, towards the contrary extremes of laxity or rigorism. 

The former is the easier and more perilous slope and is 
thronged by those whose life consists, not of action and self- 
movement, but of passive drifting along the current of inclina- 
tion, believing or denying, doing or not doing, according as 
less resistance is needed for one or the other; and also by 
those fewer who throw energy into their sin; who rush down 
the slope to destruction like the devil-possessed swine of 
Gadara. 

The .contrary incline is occupied by the well-meaning and 
ill-judging multitude of those who find it so much easier to 
live by hard-and-fast unqualified rules of belief and right con- 
duct, than by a just and elastic application of living principles 
to each particular and individual case. What confirms them in 
their obduracy is the consciousness that they are going against 
nature and overcoming themselves, and their belief that the 
harder way is the better, or at least the safer. 

Yet if they would but try, they might find something as 
much harder than narrowness as narrowness is than looseness. 
" It is easier to keep silence altogether than not to offend in 
speech " ; and indeed everywhere total abstinence is easier than 
temperance. But it is not always better, nor as good. ** I 
pray not that Thou shouldst take them out of the world," says 
Christ of His Apostles, " but that Thou shouldst keep them 
from evil." Indeed, far from being the safer, the rigid way is 
often the more dangerous, as leading to strong reactions of 
disgust and rebellion on the part of violated nature; and as at 
best cramping that natural expansiveness of the soul which is 
the essential condition of its life. 

As in the fine arts, so in the art of life, the right way is 
high, difficult, and narrow, and few there be, if any, that find 
it. Left to ourselves, we all slip down the easier slope ; and 
if grace for a moment raise us to the summit, we slip down 
the other. But He has come to show to all the Narrow 
Way, and to make the lost secret common property. *' I am 
the Way," He says, "and the Truth, and the Life; no man 
cometh to the Father but by Me." 

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1903.] The Perils of Una uthorized Dogma tism. 675 
liberty for others. 

" Let not him that eateth despise him that eateth not." — Rom. xiv. 3. 

Though few desire real liberty, there is an clement of liberty 
that all naturally desire. A man lost in the middle of the 
Sahara desert is not so free as a galley-slave chained to his 
oar, since the latter has the needful conditions for a certain 
limited degree of life; while the former is face to face with 
extinction. Yet it is something not to be coerced by another 
will than our own. Be such coercion just or unjust, the first 
instinct of our will is to resent it and rebel against it. Perfect 
freedom is doubtless his whose mind and heart are so attuned 
to just law, divine and human, as to obey without friction or 
sense of thwart; and who moreover lives in an ideal world 
where every law is just and divine. But even in such a soul 
it is not submission to just compulsion that satisfies and frees, 
but the conviction that the occasion for such compulsion will 
never arise; since perfect love has cast out fear and its tor- 
ment.. Hence the hatred of being tied down is natural and 
right, since it is our final destiny to be freed from such fric- 
tion and coercion. It is this instinct which angers us against 
any attempt to advise or persuade us even to some course of 
conduct which else we had freely chosen ; which makes us hesi- 
tate to commit ourselves to some one out of many possible 
lines of action, and thereby to put the alternatives out of our 
reach for ever; which makes us feel our most voluntary en- 
gagements an intolerable burden as soon as they are entered 
upon ; which prompts us to puzzle people by unexpected and 
freakish turns of word and action, lest knowing the laws and 
uniformities of our conduct, they should be able to manage us 
secretly and play upon the several keys of our character at will. 

Like the love of money, or of any other means of life, this 
love of being "let alone" and* not interfered with becomes, if 
over- indulged, an unreasoning passion ; the end being forgot- 
ten in the eager pursuit of the means. Few love liberty for 
justice's sake, and simply that they and others indifferently 
may lead the best and fullest life ; and many love license in 
their hearts and call it liberty with their lips ; but most love 
non-interference for its own sake without a thought of the end 
for which it should be desired, — just as we often love to hurry 
through work and to struggle for an unlimited ocean of leisure. 



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676 THE Perils of Una uthorized Dogma tism. [Aug., 

without the faintest notion of what is to be done with the 
leisure when secured. All occupation is embittered by a secret 
tense of an infinity of alternatives and incompatible occupa- 
tions which are excluded ; for, if to be idle is to enjoy none 
of them actually, it is at least to be at liberty to enjoy any of 
them. 

That we mostly love non-interference for its own sake, or 
for our own sake, and not for justice's sake — that is, not from 
the disinterested love of order as an absolute good — is clear 
from our readiness to interfere with others in order to secure 
fuller freedom for ourselves. We resent having the mind and 
will of another imposed as the norm of our own; but we 
would enforce our notions and tastes on every one else. 

This desire to bring all others round to our way of -think- 
ing and acting is also a natural and useful instinct — one of 
the cohesive forces of society — and its absence is a grave de- 
fect; but it is a very subordinate principle of conduct, need- 
ing often to be checked and overridden by many another and 
better. ^ The social organism requires a nice adjustment of 
uniformity and variety ; since an excess of the one means 
petrification; of the other, disintegration. And so in the 
Christian Church there are certain established points of faith 
that are held in common by all ; but beyond, there is a region 
of opinion and free speculation as to matters in regard to 
which the church's mind is still unformed ; and were no liberty 
tolerated in that region, there would be no variety of con- 
flicting opinions' illustrating and explaining one another, each 
holding an element of that fuU truth which is eventually to be 
accepted and appropriated as a development of the body of 
dogmatic teaching. 

Again, there are obligatory practices common to all Chris- 
tians, but a still wider region of individual variations in regard 
to which a wise liberty and mutual toleration should be main- 
tained. Doubtless many of the existing uniformities and obli- 
gations were selected, by reason of their proven utility, from 
the mass of local and particular observances, and extended to 
the Universal Church. To suppress variations would be to 
suppress growth. Hence we should be as jealous for liberty as 
for law, since they are co-principles of social life ; we should 
be indignant against unauthorized dogmatism — doctriilal or 
practical — in matters where the church has left us free. 



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1 903. ] The Perils of Una uthorized Dogma tism. 677 

For example, as regards the greater or lesser frequenting 
of the sacraments, the usage of the church has differed im- 
mensely in different ages and countries, and saints have been 
formed on both systems; nor can we say that there has ever 
bsen a steady progress towards the present frequency, since 
this is but a revival of the most primitive practice. The truth 
is, that frequency is but one condition of fruitfulness, and 
fervor is the other: so that in some sense it is indifferent 
whether we go frequently and fairly well, or rarely and ^very 
well; whether we replenish our cup after every sip or wait till 
it is nearly empty. We do not drink more on one system 
than on the other. Outward circumstances often determine the 
matter for us; still more should we consult our mental tem- 
perament. For some, frequency begets routine and formalism ; 
for others, it secures the stability of habit. Some can snatch 
only now and then the inner or outer leisure needed for that 
concentration which their sense of reverence demands in ap- 
proaching the sacraments; others, owing to the evenness of 
their mind and circumstances, can keep themselves always at 
or near the necessary level of recollection. 

Doubtless in each, age or locality there is an established 
average of frequency — once a month, or once a week, or four 
times a year; and one should so far respect that rule as not 
to depart from it notably without positive reason ; but such 
reasons so abound that we must leave men full liberty to go 
much more frequently or much less frequently without daring 
to rank them spiritually by the frequency of their communions. 
Wherefore "let not him that eateth, despise him that eateth 
not; nor let him that eateth not, judge him that eateth. He 
that eateth, eateth in the Lord and giveth thanks; and like- 
wise he that eateth not"; 1.^., both have a good reason for 
what they do, and glorify God in opposite ways. We can go 
to heaven by sea as well as by land. "Who art thou that 
judgest another ? To his own Master he standeth or falleth." 
These words are the too easily forgotten Magna Charta of 
Christian liberty. " In God's house are many mansions," and 
there is room for all sorts and conditions of men, even for the 
most unlikely and unimaginable. 



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678 John Graham Brooks on Social Unrest. [Aug., 



JOHN GRAHAM BROOKS ON SOCIAL UNREST. 

(R. BROOKS has collected in a volume* of four 
hundred pages a mass of facts and opinions on 
the subject of social unrest, which condensed 
into a few words is a brief in the case of Labor 
against Capital. Most of the matter is in the form 
of a running commentary on the conditions of the present day, 
without the customary set phrases of argument; in fact, the 
reader is left in doubt as to any possibility of a cure for the 
trouble, as the author himself is by no means sure that he has 
discovered any solution. 

Mr. Brooks thinks the Social Unrest is due to the wide- 
spread extension of education. Modern political liberty has 
magnified the wants of the human race, and he sees only a 
partial cure as possible, for he says, page 96: "Popular 
education and the spread of democratic ideas evidently intro- 
duced influences calculated in their very nature to stimulate the 
feelings out of which unrest grows. It would puzzle one to 
conceive a more fertile breeding place of unsatisfied desires 
than that which present educational facilities offer. . . . 
Though in the coming sixty years the affluence of wealth mul- 
tiply our material prosperity an hundredfold, is it to be expected 
that the margin of unquenched desires will be narrower? . . . 
We seem likely to the end of time to be whipped on by a 
multitude of wants that will overtop every means to gratify 
them." This is a hopeless outlook; and when he shows how 
the primitive races still abide in contentment while the edu- 
cated races rush on madly to unrest and suicide, caused by 
the check on their unsatisfied longings, one cannot help think- 
ing that the old adage, " where ignorance is bliss 'tis folly to 
be wise," contains a wholesome truth for the modern world to 
learn. Mr. Brooks thinks industrial equality in the form of 
socialism will some day be realized, just as equality has been 
realized in the domains of religion and politics. Here the in- 
telligent Catholic can scarcely follow him. " It has grown 
clear," he says (p. 103), " that when a certain state of civiliza- 

• The Social Unrest. By John Graham Brooks. New York : The Macmillan Company. 



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1903] John Graham Brooks on Social Unrest. 679 

tion has been reached, religious and political inequalities are 
felt to bi socially mischievous." To a Catholic the rebellion 
against authority in religion is rather to be regarded as a 
calamity, one of the worst that has ever befallen the human 
race, rather than a true light to guide the modern world into 
industrial freedom. " One cannot omit," he continues, " from 
the causes of unrest the slow decay of authority in religion." 
And he shows in a fierce light the atheism of the original 
socialist leaders, Liebknecht amongst others, who said in 1875 • 
^' It is our duty as socialists to root out the faith in God with 
all our zeal, nor is any one worthy the name who does not 
consecrate himself to the spread of atheism." Schall, the Stutt- 
gart leader, also: "We open war upon God, because He is 
the greatest evil in the world." True indeed the leaders do 
not talk so now. Is it because they have changed ? Not at 
all. But these "jaunty critics," Mr. Brooks says, saw how deep 
a hold religion had on the masses, and when they could not 
disillusionize them, they changed their policy so that they could 
the more readily manipulate them. Fine leaders of a new 
and great principle! But, in spite of this duplicity. Social 
Unrest has grown by their agitation, and Mr. Brooks enumerates 
the causes: Education, machinery, employers rich and laborers 
poor; state charters for privileges given to the favored few; 
light taxes on the rich, heavy taxes on the common people ; 
growth of trusts and corporations ; — in fact, all the causes which 
make for industrial inequality, and the conviction that labor is 
not getting its just share of its energies, while capital is get- 
ting too much ; loss of faith in the regulation of these evils 
by the state, and, worst of all, a distrust of the courts of jus- 
tice as being the hirelings of wealth. The chapter on machin- 
ery is worth reading, as it seems the story of a magician. 
What a laborer took ten hours to perform by hand in the re- 
moving cotton seeds from one and one-half pounds of cotton; 
he now by machine removes in the same time from six thou- 
sand pounds. A steam shovel does in eight minutes what a 
hand shovel did in ten hours. One stone- crusher does the 
work of six hundred men. Upon an old hand-loom one man 
could weave forty yards in a week; to-day by machine six- 
teen hundred yards. 

Small wonder that an unrest has entered the ranks of labor 
when machines are daily throwing thousands out of the labor 



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68o John Graham Brooks on Social Unrest. [Aug., 

it took them a life-time to learn. Mr. Brooks thinks socialism 
the only answer to the present industrial inequalities; but, like 
most socialists, he has only meagre plans. He thinks partial 
remedies will be applied as the struggle goes on, but they will 
be satisfactory only for a time. They are, briefly, legislation, 
eo-operation, division of stock and profits, compulsory arbi- 
tration of strikes, workingmen's pensions; last of all, and the 
most radical, what he calls the abolishing of capital, namely: 
"There is to-day no clearly conceived socialism that does not 
aim first of all at the socializing of the ' three rents.' If 
socialism were to triumph and be carried to logical complete- 
ness, no individual could draw a penny's income from interest, 
rent, or profits. These would pass to the community. So to 
organize industry that the coupon-monger in every form shall 
be suppressed is the raison d'etre of socialism " (page 270). 
These political experiments, more or less dangerous, are all in 
the present programme of the socialist leaders. Mr. Brooks 
acknowledges that all the schemes for making a Utopia for 
humanity in the past have failed, and the socialists can point 
to no fact in history which justifies any hope that their promises 
now can be fulfilled. In fact, he admits that there is in human 
nature an innate rebellion against uniformity in social life. 
Man cries out for variety with a vehemence that never will be 
smothered; and Mr. Brooks says (p. 230): "If there is a 
single lesson to be read from the long list of insolvent Utopias 
it is that the thing we call human nature will not submit to 
have thrust upon it the externals of a literal equality. . . • 
Certainly the chief sources of our social troubles are old- 
fashioned ignorance and selfishness. If one choose to conceive 
a race that is without ignorance and without selfishness, the 
new society is at hand." True enough; but that race never 
did and never will exist, and the socialists are planning a 
country for angels while half the inhabitants do not belong in 
that company. 

The most important chapter in the book is the one on 
socialism at work. Here we have the real thing : what they 
have done, what they are doing. Politically, Mr. Brooks does 
not see much profit in the socialist experiments, especially in 
France (p. 291): "In most towns I asked the mayor, or his 
secretary, what had been done to realize the socialist ideal. 
Many communities have had from eight to ten years* experi 



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1903.] John Graham Brooks on Social Unrest. 681 

ence with collectivist administrators. The first, and often the 
paramount occupation, has been to vote larger budgets in favor 
of the poor. Also voting higher pensions to socialist soldiers, 
and free medical attendance to the poor. '' It is for the most 
part/' he says, ''an extremely loose and promiscuous form of 
out-door relief." He is impressed that such work is a raw 
attempt to catch the working-class vote by giving away public 
money. But in the work of co-operation, Mr. Brooks finds 
much to praise in the Belgian experiments; and here certainly 
no one can object to socialist ideas if they remain in these 
channels. Hundreds of co- operative societies have been formed 
for the manufacture and sale of every kind of article. The re- 
sult has been satisfactory in reducing the cost of the neces- 
saries of life to the poor, although it has destroyed many 
small tradesmen. The saddest outcome of these co-operativ€ 
societies, from the stand-point of the workingman, has been the 
adoption of methods in their management which labor has 
always railed at as the tyranny of private capital. 

Socialists, as their own managers, worked some of their 
men ten hours, and argued the justice of it Piece-work, the 
bane of the operative, had to be adopted, because even the 
socialist would loaf and shirk on his co-operative employer. 
Day's wages were abandoned for the same reason. And they 
even found that the day's wage man, who did not earn his pay, 
brisked up and earned twice as much on piece-work. When 
they needed money they borrowed from their own employees, 
who charged them interest. Think of it! The socialist, who 
looks on the coupon-monger as a child of Satan, becomes a 
coupon-monger against his own brother socialist. It reminds 
one of the famous remark of an Irishman when the cry^ of 
" The Chinese must go " was so prevalent among the laboring 
men. "The Chinese must go — all but one Chinee who lives 
in Mulberry Street; he'll not go till I get my shirt." Social- 
ism is all right for the man who has nothing, but for him who 
has and wants more, it is the dream of the idler or the raid 
of the pirate. Mr. Brooks' final word is to give the socialist 
a chance ; he predicts that he will soon be in evidence in the 
administration of cities as mayors and councilmen, and he says : 
" Once in office he should have safe tether for practical ex- 
periment." Conjectures about the future of socialism in the 
United States are futile. There will, no doubt, be experiments 



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682 



ONE USE OF Death. 



[Aug. 



made more or less revolutionary, but we may be sure of one 
thing : while human nature lasts there will always be private 
property, private manufacturers, private capital, which all in 
their various spheres will demonstrate the love which human 
nature has for individual effort and personal ambition for the 
glory to be gained; and all socialist efforts to squeeze the 
hu.Tian race into one mould will only result in the bursting of 
the mould and destruction to the moulder. 





ONE USE OF DEATH. 

BY JAMES BUCKHAM. 

EATH hath sweet uses, when one sees 
The breadth of his economies ; 
And one there is I count most dear — 
To bring true -loving hearts more near. 

If one has died, and I forget. 
Or loose him farther, farther yet. 
Ours was not love. We lived as friends 
Because it served some other ends. 

But when my heart-true friend has died, 
He draweth nearer to my side. 
I love him deeper, warmer too; 
He fitteth closer than I knew. 

O Death ! I thank thee for this test 
That proves my nearest, dearest, bestl 
How sure it makes me, spite of pain. 
That kindred souls must meet again ! 



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<5 <5 \Diew8 anb IReviews. <f ^ 



1. — Apologists for theism are emerging from a period of 
darkness and depression into the strong light of a perfect and 
peaceful day. In the latter years of the eighteenth century, 
and during two-thirds of the nineteenth, the outlook for belief 
in a personal God was very gloomy. Scientific men laughed 
at the "God-hypothesis"; university undergraduates made 
merry over Paley's " Carpenter " evidences ; and the ordinarily 
well-read man of affairs talked easily of how natural selection 
had displaced design, and of how the unconscious All had 
driven a Deity of intelligence and will from His immemorial 
throne. As in all periods of momentous transition, men saw 
only the shore from which they had cast loose and the turbu- 
lent sea that bore them off, but perceived not any further rest- 
ing-place, or any harbor beyond the storm. The evolution 
theory certainly did call for a restatement of the teleological 
argument, and for a time the impression prevailed that to 
adinit the heed of such a restatement was a confession of 
vital defeat. *' Whither are we drifting ? " " What disturbing 
discovery will come next ? " " What new comprehensive idea 
will be developed that will advance still further the boundaries 
of matter and force ? " These were questions put to themselves 
by many an adherent of the old order; and meantime science, 
as represented in many a high place, became daily more insis- 
tent, more aggressive, more impudent. 

To-day there is a great change. Human reason is fast 
recovering from its delirium. It is brought out into clearer 
light with the passing of every day and with nearly every 
recent utterance of profound scientific men, that apart from an 
intelligent God who is the origin and the Conserver of the 
finite universe, that universe is absolutely inexplicable. If we 
were animated animals of flesh merely, with no ideals of Beauty, 
Truth, and Righteousness; if our knowledge consisted in the 
unrelated and disordered impressions given us by a madhouse 
of a world of fortuitous occurrences, then, welcome atheism, 
agnosticism, and despair. But our souls and our world are 
quite other things than chaos. They are orderly ; they are 
sublime ; they are teleological. They demand God ; and de- 
mand him so imperatively that all non-theistic systems are a 

VOL. LXXVII. — 44 

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684 V/EIVS AND REVIEIVS. [Aug., 

subversion of intelligence, and mean destruction for every moral 
aspiration. 

We have gone into this long preamble to our notice of 
Professor Bowne's book because this volume gives a remarkably 
fine review of the vicissitudes of theism which we have mentioned, 
and insists with timeliness and vigor upon the futility of 
atheism in providing an explanation for those ideals of con- 
science, mind, and heart to which we have referred. Dr. 
Bowne's main purpose is to prove that belief in a personal 
God is the sole salvation of human reason and human morality ; 
the salvation of human reason, because without it there is 
absolutely no word to account for the teleological character of 
the world outside us which we know, and of the world within 
us which knows, and the salvation of human morality, because 
on any other than a theistic view of life, ideals of righteous- 
ness, in themselves essentially holy, are nonsense. As a com- 
plement to the fine presentation of argument and criticism 
which make up the body of the book, there are three searching 
chapters on Pantheism, Optimism, and Pessimism and Atheism, 
as affecting the moral value of life. 

In the chapter on pantheism the strong idealistic tendency 
of Dr. Bowne will give offence to many. For example, such 
statements as : '* Only selfhood serves to mark off the finite 
from the infinite, and only the finite spirit attains to substantial 
otherness to the infinite. The impersonal finite has only such 
otherness as a thought or act has to its subject." And again: 
" Identity, unity, causality, substantiality, are possible only 
under the personal form. The notion of the impersonal finite 
vanishes upon analysis into phenomenality."^ Howsoever one 
may differ with Professor Bowne in these subsidiary metaphysi- 
cal speculations, the verdict sure to be passed by all thoughtful 
readers upon his work is, that it is a magnificent defence of 
the race's oldest and sublimest belief, and a vigorous assault 
upon the already disorganized but still assertive forces which 
would destroy it. 

2. — Whatever may be the actual cause of religious discontent 
and unrest in unfortunate France, it cannot be a lack of good 
religious literature, doctrinal as well as devotional. In this 
country we have only too many occasions to deplore the ex- 
treme paucity of books of solid worth that would help in 



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1903.] Views and Reviews. 685 

the work of instruction and apologetic for the faith ; we are 
everlastingly crying for something, if it be only a readable and 
popular adaptation of the standard works of doctrine. In France 
this need is always quickly supplied. A new school of 
apologetic makes its way among the scholars, and behold the 
ideas it gives rise to are scarcely matured when the results, at 
least those that are preliminary, are set forth for the people in 
good, substantial, yet wonderfully readable expositions. 

Such a welcome work is the present volume* from the pen 
of the Abb^ Klein. He has thrown into popular shape the 
gist of the historical argument for religion and for Catholicity. 
Though aiming expressly to deliver his doctrine simply and 
familiarly for the people, he takes care to lose none of the 
trustworthiness of solider volumes, and does in reality build up 
a logical and consistent, a straightforward and reasonable defence 
of the true religion ; or perhaps it would be better to say that he 
gives the fundamental and preliminary instruction that would 
lead to an entire apologetic along the line of argument that 
starts with things as it finds them, with facts tl)at are patent 
to every student of human nature or of history, and leads to a 
conclusion that the end and the explanation of these facts is 
nothing else but the truth of Catholic dogma. 

There is nothing old-fashioned in the method, and we may 
say too that the author fits his thought, his style, his whole 
work, as well as its methods, to the bent of the modern mind. 

In the last chapter Abb^ Klein summarizes briefly the main 
points of the teaching of Christian revelation, aiming to show 
their harmony with one another and with the essential facts of 
the religious consciousness which he constantly insists upon as 
his starting point, the undeniable, visible, tangible fact of the 
history of Religion. 

We would wish that some able writer would do a similar 
work for us in the United States. It would be an apostolic task. 

3. — We welcome and heartily recommend this new edition — 
the ninth — of P^re Gratry's Connaissance de Dieu.\ The book, 
it will be remembered, places the foundation of the argu- 
ment for the existence of God in the aspirations of the 
soul for the ideals of Truth, Righteousness, and Love ; in the 

* Le Fait Religieux et la 'ManUre de V observer. Par I'Abb^ F^lix Klein. Deuxieme 
edition. Paris : P. Lethielleux. 

\De la Connaissance de Dieu. Par A. Gratry. Paris : Librairie Tdqui. 



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686 Views and Reviews. [Aug., 

^lan of humanity for the Infinite. It is an extremely powerful 
argument when well developed, and seldom has it been treated 
so well as by Gratry, that beautiful spirit, so lovable in his 
tenderness, so lofty in his mysticism, so ardent in his enthusi- 
asms, so mournful in his misfortunes. P^re Gratry's great 
heart, as well as his acute mind, is in these pages, so that 
they are at once a study and a prayer. The historical sketch 
of theodicy is a very valuable contribution to theism, and the 
concluding chapters on the relations of reason and faith contain 
some of the finest passages and profoundest thoughts of the 
entire work. We hope our readers who care at all for philo- 
sophical literature will do themselves the good of studying 
these two volumes. They contain, it seems to us, that pre- 
sentation of the theistic argument which will ultimately be 
regarded as not only the most practicable for persuasion, but 
also the most powerful philosophically. 

4. — Dr. Alois Wurm has given us a fine critical study ♦ of the 
alleged Gnostic and Ebionitic errors in the first Epistle of St 
John. The inonograph is highly technical, and appeals conse- 
quently to professed Scripture- students rather than to the un- 
initiated in such branches. It is exclusively an historical and 
exegetical study, and does not deal with the celebrated prob- 
lems in textual criticism contained in this epistle. Very finely 
done is the account of the mental attitude of the early Jewish 
converts, when confronted by that greatest of scandals in their 
eyes, a Messias not exalted upon the throne of David, but 
shamefully put to death upon the cross ; and by that other 
scandal scarcely easier for them to accept, that their old Mosaic 
law was in many points to be set aside, and the ancient reve- 
lation given by God to the fathers of Israel was to be com- 
plemented and perfected by the new dispensation of the Gospel. 
Dr. Wurm is one of that group of loyal Catholic German scholars 
who are laboring so heroically to bring modern Catholic scholar- 
ship into a place of distinguished honor, if not of pre-eminence. 

5. — The usual defects in the text- books of scholastic 
philosophy are so patent, that it is not to be wondered at if 
most professors yield to the desire — or rise to the ambition, 
if this be better — to produce a better manual than what our 
•present author admits to be the ** innumera alia." His special 

* Die Irrlchrerim Ersten Johannes brief. Von Dr. Alois Wurm. Freiburg und St. Louis : 
B. H<'r(lcr. 



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1903] V/EIVS AND REVIEWS, 687 

claim to excellence — he makes it modestly enough — is that he 
has accommodated his work ♦ to " tironibus facili methodo insti- 
tuendis/' and that he has consequently aimed at "brevity and 
clearness." But five hundred pages for Logic and Theology is 
scarcely brief, and we imagine, from a rather cursory glance 
at this volume, that the beginners for whom it was written can 
scarce agree that it permits one to say that any "facilis 
methodus " is possible. 

6. — Mr. Felix Adler is the recognized head of what is 
called the Ethical movement in the United States, The Ethical 
cult is a substitute for religion. Those who pursue it profess, 
as their first principle, the nobility of following the moral law 
and of doing good to mankind. The deductions from this prin- 
ciple which nearly all of mankind have drawn, namely, that if 
there is within us a seat of moral obligation, there must be 
above us a supreme moral Governor, whom it is our chief duty 
and privilege to know, serve, and love. These deductions the 
new Ethical school refuses to formulate. Morality with an un- 
knowable sanction, a soul with an unknowable destiny, a Deity 
with an unknowable nature — this summarizes a position which 
many a noble spirit has been misled into adopting. 

From this word of description our readers may readily es- 
timate the nature of the meditations, thoughts, and excerpts re- 
cently published by Mr. Adler.f They consist of exhortations 
to a strict, pure, and helpful life, which are inspiring indeed, 
and enough to make us feel a veneration for their author ; they 
consist, secondly, of reflections upon social institutions and 
moral ideals which are as admirable as pure naturalism can 
ever be, but faint away into hollow fragments when judged by 
the perfect whole of Christianity; and they consist finally in 
speculations upon natural theology which labor under the limi- 
tations noticed in the last paragraph. Frequently the extract is 
too brief for the full expression of the idea it would present; 
sometimes the idea seems too commonplace to find entrance 
into a book like this ; and now and then neither idea nor ex- 
pression is as striking or graceful as Mr. Adler's reputation 
would lead us to expect. 

* PneUctiones PhilosophuE Scholastics. Tironibus facili methodo instituendis accomodatae. 
Auctore P. Germano a Soto-Stanislao, C.P. Vol. 1. Complectens Logicura et Ideologiam. 
New York : Fr. Pustet. 

t Life and Destiny ; or, Thoughts from the Ethical Lectures of Felix Adler. New York : 
McClure, Phillips & Co. 



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688 V/EIVS AND REVIEWS. [Aug., 

7. — These two booklets ♦ of M. Ermoni are a very ad- 
mirable summary of the present position of Oriental learning as 
affecting the Old Testament. The question is a very delicate 
and momentous one. It calls for the judgment of cautious 
scholars and for sure expressions of view which we shall not 
have to change to-morrow or the day after. There are strik- 
ing resemblances between the Hebrew Scriptures and the 
ancient literature, especially the religious literature of Assyria, 
Babylonia, and Egypt. But therefore we are not to go head- 
long into the extravagant claim of a science as precipitate with 
conclusions as it is hostile to faith, and declare that Genesis 
and Exodus are only transcripts of Oriental legend. Three 
processes a cautious mind will call for : first, find all the re- 
semblances in question ; secondly, determine the importance of 
the alleged importations from pagan sources; thirdly, examine 
our theory of inspiration, and if necessary modify it so that it 
will exclude no certain result of science. M. Ermoni in a brief 
space helps towards this threefold method. He gives us the 
similarities between the' Hebrew and the older literatures, and 
shows that their importance, so far as discrediting the Bible 
goes, is very slight indeed. For, as a manifest and constant and 
humanly inexplicable testimony to the providential guidance of 
the chosen people, it stands out in clearer day with every pro- 
gressive step of modern discovery, that though surrounded with 
polytheism and a gross and monstrous mythology, the children 
of Abraham clung fast to the purest monotheistic belief, and 
conceived it to be their destiny to pass on that faith incor- 
rupted to posterity. Once* the significance of this fact is grasped, 
it need give us no disturbance to admit that the Bible, like 
every other literary production, shows traces of the age in 
which it appeared. M. Ermoni very seasonably and sensibly 
warns us not to deny that these traces exist, but advises carry- 
ing the war into the enemy's country by insisting upon the 
moral and doctrinal supremacy of the Bible — a supremacy of 
such a nature as to drive us to the divine and supernatural to 
account for it. Naturally in a summary so short as that con- 
tained in these pamphlets, there can be no full exposition of so 
vast and recondite a problem. But so far as they go they are ' 
of considerable value, and every educated Catholic will profit 
by reading them. 

• La Bible et V ^gyptologU, Par V. Ermoni. La Bible et V AsiyriologU, Par V. Ermoni. 
Paris : Librairie Blaud et Cie. 

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1903.] ViEivs AND Reviews. 689 

8 — In 1 86 1 William Edward Hartpole Lecky, then in his 
twenty-third year, published a series of studies on the great 
recent leaders of public opinion in Ireland. The book, as he 
says himself, "fell absolutely dead." Ten years later he care- 
fully revised the production and once more presented it to the 
public. This time it had a very respectable measure of success; 
in fact the entire edition was sold within a reasonable period. 
And now for the third time, forty years from the original pub- 
lication, the aged historian puts his youthful venture into print* 
The book now is very different from the anonymous production 
in which the young university graduate made his first bid for 
fame. It consists of two volumes, and contains nearly all of the 
new biographical matter that has come to light respecting the 
characters dealt with; and contains besides the mature reflec- 
tions of the author on some of the deepest problems and most 
momentous epochs in the political history of Ireland. Mr. 
Lecky's views are known to every one. He is a Tory, and re- 
presents Trinity College in the House of Commons. And as to 
religion, he is a rationalist with pretty strong notions on the 
influence in history of the Catholic Church. This influence he 
thinks has been in a large degree helpful, and has always aimed 
at moral growth, but in the long run has proved inimical to 
human liberty and enlightenment. Consequently it is easy to 
perceive that Mr. Lecky judges the Irish people from a very 
remote point of view. He is not one of them. He has but a 
feeble sympathy for the tragedies of their mournful history ; he 
has only a lordly pity for their intense and simple Catholicity ; 
he has nothing but intolerance for their constantly defeated 
but tenaciously persistent national aspirations. And so we can 
almost tell beforehand what he will have to say concerning the 
great men of whose lives and deeds he writes. These men are 
Flood, Grattan, and O'Connell. Why Mr. Lecky did not 
choose more than these three in treating of great modem 
leaders of Irish public opinion, it is not easy to understand. 
Not to mention others, Parnell was a man whose influence on 
his countrymen was so great as to be historic; yet Mr. Lecky 
does not give him the honor of a chapter. Still, our author so 
fully expresses himself upon the national interests of Ireland 
in the monographs contained in these volumes, that even if he 
had discussed the character and influence of Parnell, he would 

• Leaders of Public Opinion in Ireland. By W. E. H. Lecky. New York : Longmans, 
Green & Co. 



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690 Views and Reviews. [Aug., 

have added little beyond biographical detail or interesting 
reminiscence. 

The account of 0*Connell occupies the entire second volume 
of Mr. Lecky's work. It is fascinating reading. Mr. Lecky 
admits that O'Connell was a genius of "amazing abilities." He 
venerates the great Councillor's sincerity of patriotism and purity 
of private life. He tells us over and over how lovable the 
man was, how affectionate to wife and children, how absorbingly 
devoted to his faith, how rigid in interpreting the moral law, 
how strenuous an apostle of peace, how uncompromising an 
opponent of violence and war. The descriptions of O'Connell's 
forensic abilities and oratorical triumphs are lingered over with 
an almost tender touch. Indeed Mr. Lecky seems himself to 
have been softened, subdued, and won by the music of the 
matchless voice that held a quarter of a million of men entranced 
upon the hill of Tara. All this in O'Connell's praise. But,, 
adds Mr. Lecky, the. Liberator had in him a strong strain of 
the demagogue. He could descend to " mob oratory " ; he was 
uncouth; he never commended himself to the conventional and 
conservative temper of the English people ; he was bigoted ; he 
was dangerous. And as for the general influence of his career, 
if we consider "the sectarian and class warfare that resulted 
from his policy, the fearful elements of discord and turbulence 
he evoked, and which he alone could in some degree control, 
it may be questioned whether his life was a blessing or a curse 
to Ireland." This is a characteristic specimen of Mr. Lecky's 
spirit as expressed in this work. Our readers can form their 
own judgments as to the value of the performance. It must 
be remembered, however, that Mr. Lecky is a man of great 
ability, of recognized scholarship, of wide experience in public 
life, and of trained talent in shaping his thought to words. In 
any work of such a man there must be much that is permanently 
valuable and profoundly interesting. 

9 — ^To all lovers of the old classical erudition we commend 
this work • of the Abb^ Dedouvres. It is a study of the old Latin 
character as revealed in the social, political, and military genius 
of the Romans, and especially as manifested in their language 
and literature. The book is full of erudition, and as for 
enthusiasm, judge of that from these words of the preface: 
"Sans latin, point d* kumanitas ! ** Roman life in town and 

• Les Latins, Peints par iux-mimes. Par I'AbW Louis Dedouvres. Paris : Alphonse 
Picard ct Fils. 



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1903.] Views and Reviews. 691 

country, the army, the forum, poetry lyrical, tragic and didactic, 
Latin prose and Latin philosophy, and a comparison of Greek 
and Latin as literary instruments, these are the topics dealt 
with, and none of them has M. Dedouvres touched without 
adorning it. It is a book about which clings the very odor of 
ancient lore. We can imagine it written by no other than an 
old magister who has kept himself unspotted from the world of 
ephemeral literature, and has preserved green and fresh and 
constant his plighted love to Cicero and Seneca, Tacitus and 
Livy, Horace and Virgil, Suetonius and Catullus. To every 
heart that has ever known aught of the same high affection, it 
is a book to bring great delight. 

10. — Mr. Baxter deserves our gratitude for presenting a list 
of the cardinals who may be said to belong to England, inas- 
much as they were born in that country. All Catholics must 
have an affection for the country known of old as Our Lady's 
Dower, and an interest, therefore, in the distinctions obtained 
by Englishmen in the service of Holy Chuich. From Robert 
Fallen, who died in 1147, to Herbert Vaughan, over whose 
remains the widowed see of Westminster is mourning, the 
illustrious list includes thirty-four wearers of the Roman purple. 

We can recommend this little book.* The information is 
valuable, and has been collected from various sources with no 
inconsiderable difficulty. Any inaccuracies we discover are 
really of a very excusable character, such as making Cardinal 
Repyngdon a peer of the realm ipso facto because he was 
Bishop of Lincoln. He was- not a peer; he was a lord of 
Parliament in virtue of his bishopric, which conferred this 
status upon him. 

We think, too, we must accept the universal testimony of 
histpry — say the testimony of such men as Hallam — as to the 
reality of the name, ** Morton's Fork," for the well-known 
dilemma, on the horns of which the cardinal named Merton 
impaled those who objected to pay a tax in the reign of Henry 
VII. "Those who lived splendidly could pay the tax because 
their expenditures proved their wealth ; those who lived spar- 
ingly could pay it because their economy must have made 
them wealthy." Our author seems to think the story and the 
characteristic judgment of the people embalmed in the nick- 
name for the dilemma mythical, because Merton "did his best 

* England^ s Cardinals, By Dudley Baxter. London : Burns & Oates ; New York and 
Chicago : Benziger Brothers. 



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692 V/EPyS AND REVIEWS. [Aug., 

to restrain (the italics are not ours) Henry's avarice". We see 
no connection between the " reason ". and the conclusion, 
something like that which makes Tenderden steeple the cause 
of Goodwin Sands. 

We are disappointed in the memoir of Pole; and we have 
to point out an inaccuracy in that on his Royal Highness the 
Cardinal of York, in which the tutor of the princes Charles 
Edward and Henry (the cardinal) is spoken of as an English- 
man. The writer might as well have said that the Chev^alier 
Wogan was an Englishman, he who with five or six other 
Irishmen brought the Princess Sobieski, their mother, to the 
arms of her future husband, in spite of the difficulties which the 
policy of states and sovereigns put in the way of this marriage. 

The first of the list, however, who really belongs to Eng- 
land is Stephen Langton (the three before him, Pullen and the 
Breakspears, being in all save the accident of birth foreigners). 
Curzon was for awhile apostolic delegate to England, but ex- 
cept the time he filled this office it would seem his life 
belonged to France and Italy. Somercote (1238) was, except 
in name, an Italian. Then we come to a man who really 
served the church in his native country, Kilwardly, who was 
consecrated archbishop in 1273. 

The name of Langham is associated with the see of Can- 
terbury, but what perhaps causes it to be remembered by 
school boys is, that when speaking from the woolsack at the 
opening of Parliament in 1361 he used the English language. 

Langley's election to York was annulled by Innocent VII., 
in consequence of what Mr. Baxter describes as the murder of 
Archbishop Scrope. We think high treason has been always 
deemed a capital offence, though no doubt a churchman had a 
right to "his clergy" until degraded. If we judge rightly, 
Scrope was engaged in a treasonable conspiracy, breaking *out 
into a formidable rebellion that was almost successful. Not 
only were those concerned in that rebellion traitors against 
their prince, but they were enemies of their country in a 
special sense; for they had invited the help of the Scotch, 
the hereditary and bitter enemies of England, against their 
king and fellow-countrymen. We should have preferred the 
author's omission of the topic * to his singular way of writing 
about it; but while saying this we are very far from disliking 
the spirit which, we think, prompted him to present the mat- 
ter as he did. We have hinted our notion of the element 



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1903.] V/EPyS AND REVIEWS. 693 

suppressed in the account ; namely, the immunity of the clergy 
until degradation or " unfrocking " ; but Mr. Baxter would 
have been wiser, in the face of strong feeling on the subject 
of the " double " allegiance, to have left out the name ,of 
Scrope altogether, or, having introduced it, to say all he meant. 
The book will be very useful to students who desire to 
become acquainted with a phase of English ecclesiastical history. 

U. — Anchoresses of the West* is a volume describing the 
life of that strange class of recluses who lived immured in cells 
built into the walls of churches. Consequently it is bound to 
contain much that is new and interesting to the general reader. 
The authoress' work has consisted mainly in arranging and 
summarizing bits of information drawn from a few reliable 
sources not within the reach of all who would willingly learn 
more about a form of living so curiously different from any- 
thing familiar to the English-speaking twentieth- century world. 
No very profound scholarship has been called into play in the 
performance of this task, however, and that the pages are en- 
tertaining is nearly all that can be said in praise. The pre- 
face deals with a matter that suggests many a puzzle, and 
Father McNabb*s discussion will assist in the understanding of 
some of these. 

12. — ^The Breviarium Romanum f of Wiltzius & Co., which we 
have just received, is an excellent example of the printer's art. 
It is the smallest and the handiest breviary that we have seen, 
and yet the print is by no means so small as to tax unduly 
the eyesight. The arrangement of the offices is of the best, 
and though references are more common than in a larger 
volume, still they are remarkably few. An excellent frontis- 
piece accompanies every volume. The entire work has been 
brought up to date, the latest additions and the new offices 
being inserted in their proper places. The prayers for thanks- 
giving after Mass and the usual supplements are also included 
in the neat and handy volumes. Those who are bound to the 
recital of the divine office will find the work an excellent in- 
vestment, and on occasions of ordination or anniversaries the 
friends of the priest will find it most suitable for a worthy 
and acceptable gift. 

^Aiuhoressts of the West, By Francesca M. Steele (Darlcy Dale). With Preface on 
Mysticism by the Very Rev. Vincent McNabb, O.P. St. Louis. Mo. : B. Herder. 
f Breviarium Romanum, Romae-Toumaci. Milwaukee : Wiltzius & Co. 



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694 Views and Reviews, [Aug., 

13. — Dom Cisneros, nephew of the illustrious Cardinal 
Xim^n^s, and abbot of the famous monastery of Mont- 
Serrat, was the author of a treatise * on spiritual exercises 
widely known, frequently published, and translated into several 
languages. Perhaps among ourselves both writer and book 
have come into commonest notice as being associated with the 
first steps in the path of sanctity taken by St. Ignatius Loyola ; 
for as it was to ^ former disciple of Cisneros that the saint 
made the general confession which marked the turning of his 
soul from the world to God, so it was from Cisneros' book, 
apparently, that the inspiration was drawn for the composition 
of that masterly treatise which has appropriated as its own 
for ever the title of Tke Exercises, 

Written long ago though it was, this volume, now again 
translated into French, shows itself to be possessed of that 
perennial aptness which makes true spiritual teaching. It pre- 
sents a programme of exercises for each day of the week, and 
many a suggestion calculated to excite spiritual ambition, to 
foster earnestness, and to direct progress successfully. If it 
differs from the Ignatian Exercises in being less precise and 
methodical, it differs again in this — that it imparts masterly 
teaching on those higher states of prayer which St. Ignatius 
leaves outside his scope. Instructions on the contemplative life 
and encouragement to follow the path that leads to contempla- 
tive prayer occupy no small portion of the work, and for this 
alone it would be a welcome thing to those who find so little 
reading of the kind put within their reach. To the present ' 
volume, then, we draw the attention of those who are willing 
to aspire as high as God will permit, all that is presented in 
these pages being truth stamped by age-long approval. 

14, — Most people possibly get out of their spiritual reading 
what they put into it — a spirit of piety and a willingness to 
serve God with devotion. To this extent the pious reader will 
be helped by Father Raycroft's recent volume of May confer- 
ences.f But we cannot always rely on having our readers pious 
before they come to our books. The problem for the writer of 
popular spiritual literature, it seems to us, is to attract and 

• Exercises SpirUuels et Directoire des Heures CantttUales : £crits en espagnol en Van i^oo. 
Par Dom Garcias Cisneros, O.S.B. TraduUs en Fran^aise par TAbW Joseph Rousseau. 
Paris : Victor Retaux. 1903 

t A Little Chaplet for the Queen of Angels ; or, a Short Meditation for Every Evening in 
May, By Rev. B. T. Raycrofl, A.M. New York and Cincinnati: Fr. Pustet. 



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1903.] Views and Reviews. 695 

hold the attention of some minds from among the multitude 
who are not top well disposed to piety and to holy reading. 
To do this one needs more virility of instruction and of stimu- 
lation than is evident on every page of Father Raycroft. This 
is not saying that the volume in hand is not good. It is good. 

15. — These are two very attractive little volumes* on the 
Lives of the Saints, which — unless we do not know children — 
the little ones will read with as much enjoyment as they would 
a set of fairy tales. It might be objected, by some sinister 
critic, that our comparison is too apt, for the short "lives" 
are crowded as full of the marvellous as can be; but, with a 
judicious father or mother to explain just what lessons we are 
to learn from the sometimes more allegorical than veritable 
parts of these stories, they can do no harm, and must do a 
great deal of good. And if the good be done, it will be done 
pleasantly, for the volumes are beautiful, the pictures are charm- 
ing, the stories are short and of captivating interest. 

16. — In the series of articles which M. de Kirwan has 
brought together from the Cosmos \ he treats of a great variety 
of those psychical phenomena which are very interesting to 
the popular mind on account of their more or less extraordinary 
strangeness. Under the name of Dissociation psychologique^ M. dc 
Kirwan treats of sleep, dreaming, hypnotism, double personality, 
mediums, etc. The great variety 'of the subjects considered 
makes scientific treatment impossible in the short space of 
fifty- two octavo pages. However the brochure will probably do 
its work in offering to the popular mind an interesting exposi- 
tion of these strange phenomena. 

17 — Roderick Taliafero % is the title given to a story of the 
last days of Maximilian's empire. It is full of excitement, 
builded upon an impossible structure of challenges, duels, bull- 
fights, flirtations, embraces, arrests, ambushes, battles, execu- 
tions, etc., and no doubt is meant to keep the imagination 
heated feverishly and unintermittently. In the course of the 
book its author gives — unconsciously, no doubt — a series of 

* Short Lives of the Saints (for children). From approved sources. Two vols. First and 
Second Series. Illustrated. Boston : Marlier & Co. 1902. 

t Quelques observations sut la dissociaiion psychologique. Par M. C. de Kirwan. (Extraites 
du Cosmos, 1902-1903). Paris : Feron-Vrau. Pp. 52. 

X Roderick Taliafero. By George Cram Crook. New York: The Macmillan Company. 



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696 Views and Reviews. [Aug., 

object lessons in mushy sentimentalism, unabashed stupidity, 
and silly speculation. Fragmentary scientific allusions, raw and 
doughy enough to cloy any appetite; are dished up, half- 
cooked, here and there throughout the volume. If by any 
chance this volume should succeed, no one can trace that result 
to the fact that Mr. Crook knew what he was writing about, 
or wrote about it well ; but indeed we fancy the book will 
find little favor except from readers who believe that the irre- 
ligious and salacious tendencies of men are to be encouraged 
rather than repressed. 

18. — This book • consists of scenes in peasant life in Done- 
gal; they affect the reader like the reminiscences of one who 
bore a part in them, valuing them in some way more deeply 
than even sympathy values those things to which it responds. 
There is here a fulness of insight into the nature which lay below 
the listening of the groups to the tale beside the fireside, the 
arguments, the genial cynicisms, and the pranks which constitute 
so many manifestations of that poetic, careless, laughter- loving 
Celtic soul breathing in each one of the people, young and old, 
presented to us in these pages. 

That pure and profound passion of breast and heart which 
in so many spots amid "the green hills of holy Ireland" gives 
a finer touch to young lives than is dreamt of in Greek idyl, 
is shown to us by Mr. MacManus as it is, a commonplace 
fact; and being so shown the reader, in spite of himself, 
in a manner unconsciously, becomes a true critic because he 
feels the naturalness of it together with its delicacy. It is this 
spiritual softness which later on becomes so strong and tender 
in matronage and makes marriage a religion in the poor homes. 
Men talk of that gaiety of heart which sustains, and which so 
long sustained, the Irishman when circumstances pressed upon 
him with a weight that other men could not bear and live. 
There may be a degree of truth in this, but the real resisting 
and conquering influence was soul in harmony with religion, 
religion strengthening and consecrating the domestic virtues. 

Chatham finely said when speaking of the inviolable sacred- 
ness of an Englishman's house guarded by the constitution : 
the wind and rain may enter through the roof, the broken 
windows, the creviced walls, but the King of England cannot 
enter that house, nor his soldiers, nor his power. And we say, 

^ A Lad of the O' Freeh, By Seumas MacManus. New York: McClure, Phillips & Co. 



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1903.] VIEIVS AND REVIEIVS. 697 

though the king could enter into the Irishman's poor cottage 
with his writ of ejectment, though the bailiffs level it to the 
ground, though death on the roadside were his, or what would 
be as hard to face, emigration, there was that within him 
strong enough not only to put aside despair but rise superior 
to every calamity. 

Such reflections are suggested by the 24th chapter, which 
bears the title "At Uncle Donal's Fireside again." As an ac- 
companiment to the sadness and strength of spirit displayed by 
Dinny when telling of his intention to emigrate we point to an 
early chapter, the sixth, in which Uncle Donal speaks with 
weariness of heart and almost of scorn about O'Connell's 
promises repeated after fresh disappointments, but at the same 
time when at his prayers we have the good old man, shrewd 
and suspicious though he was, offering "wan Pater-and-Ave 
for poor sufferin' Irelan'." 

On the wild humorous side the growing boys perform feats 
as reckless, as dare-devil as any we find in Lover's novels, 
making allowance for age and opportunity. Under the guid- 
ance of the "Vagabone," who has the most perfect mad devil 
of fun outside Shakspere or Ireland, there is enacted a siege of 
Dunboy which deserves to rank with the greatest achievements 
of boyhood ever since bays deserved to be loved and flogged — 
a reach of time which we apprehend includes years long anterior 
to Babylonian records or the mysteries shrouded in Irish Oghams. 

We have very great pleasure in recommending this work ; 
and as we write this, a curious contrast presents itself to our 
minds. When Mr. Townsend French gave to the world an 
historico-autobiographical book called Realities of Irish Life 
he dealt in part of the publication with the same locality and 
people. Nothing could be falser than the impression produced 
by the serious work; nothing truer than that made by the 
one before us, though it only professes to be sketches revivified 
by the imagination from associations of the memory. 

19. — New editions • of the Barnes' school histories have 
reached us, which conduct the pupil from the discovery of 
America to Roosevelt's administration. An attractive typogra- 
phy and interesting illustrations add a new recommendation to 
these well-known works. * 

* Barnes' School History of the United States, Barnes' Elementary History of the United 
States, New York : American Book Company. 



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» » 9^ Xibtat^ XTable. » » » 



The Month (June): Fr. Smith continues his investigaticn into 
the causes which led the Pope to suppress the Jesuits, 
and . the suspicions of a schismatical plot entertained 
against their Superior- General, Ricci. Fr. Thurston con- 
tributes a paper to the controversy regarding the 
authenticity of the Twelfth Promise made to Blessed 
Margaret Mary, first printed in leaflets and widely dis- 
seminated in 1870. Laying aside, for the time, all 
questions of the validity of her revelations, the writer 
concludes there is much excuse to be made for those who 
have accepted and published the Twelfth Promise, but 
" that the text should be accurately quoted, and that the 
essentially conditional character of all such assurances 
should be explained is imperative." 

The Tablet (6 June): Correspondents ask for facts and figures 
in regard to the eflfect of the " Nine First Fridays," and 
seem to think that more scandal is likely to be given by 
this prolonged discussion than by the devotion itself. 
Roman Correspondent reports an important experiment 
which is being made under the auspices of the Christian 
Democratic Association in Romagna to unite the interests 
of capital and labor in the cultivation of the soil. Mgr. 
Moyes contributes the first number of a series of articles 
on the Pre- reformation Church in England. 
(13 June): Father J. H. Pollen, S.J., begins an article 
on ** Oates* Plot," called forth by a recent publication by 
Mr. John Pollock on the same subject. In a paper en- 
titled '* The Last English Carthusian " Dr. L. C. Casartelli 
shows that this distinction does not belong, as has been 
stated, to Prior Williams, who died in 1797, but to the 
Rev. James Finch, who died in 1821, and was buried at 
Fernyholgh in Lancashire. 

Fr. McNabb, O.P., reviewing Fr. Thurston's article 
on the ** Nine Fridays " in The Month for June, reaches 
a different conclusion from that of Fr. Thurston and 
seems to think that the article proves that the mind 
of the church was unfavorable to the "great promise." 
Father Thurston, S.J., and other correspondents give state- 



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1903.] Library Table. 699 

ments for and against the beneficial effect of the "Nine 
• Fridays." 
(20 June): Fr. Kenelm Vaughan, in an article on the 
Religious Condition of South America, shows that there 
is at present a remarkable revival in religion in the 
Republic of Uruguay, the country of which he treats in 
this article. Fr. Thurston, S.J., writes in answer to Fr. 
McNabb, O.P., calling his attention to the fact that it was 
the historical question concerning the " Nine Fridays " 
which was the chief point at issue. He repeats that he 
expresses no opinion as to the objective value of the 
Twelfth Promise, but says, " if the critical faculty is to 
be brought to bear upon such pious beliefs, then we 
are beginning at the. "wrong end in occupying ourselves 
with the revelation of the Blessed Margaret Mary." 
(27 June): Fr. Sydney F. Smith, S.J., thinks that the 
" First Friday Communions " do not diminish the number 
of "Feast-day Communions," but "have a natural capacity 
for fostering the spiritual life generally of a parish, and 
increasing its Communions all round, on Sundays and 
Feast-days as well as on First Fridays. 
(4 July): An account of Cardinal Vaughan's funeral, 
with the full text of the sermon preached by Father 
Bernard Vaughan, is given. Fr. Wynne, S.J., denies 
that he is the author of the article on the " Nine First 
Fridays" which appeared in the American Messenger of 
the Sacred Heart of February, 1898, as stated by Fr. 
McNabb, O.P. He accuses the latter of an *' erroneous 
interpretation " of the assertion in the article which says 
"that the great promise goes further than the promise 
found in the gospel " (John vi. 52). Fr. McNabb, after 
apologizing for the oversight of considering Fr. Wynne 
as author rather than editor, prints without comment a 
Idng extract from the article, "for the benefit," as he 
says, "of those who wonder why many simple-minded 
Catholics are distressed in mind by the way in which 
the Twelfth Promise is propagated." An interesting an- 
nouncement is that of an approaching marriage between 
Mile. Lucie Faure and M. Goyau. 
Annates de Philosophie Chretienne (May) : S. L. pleads for in- 
tellectual honesty in the teaching of Old Testament his- 
voL. LxxYii. — 45 



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7CX) Library Table. [Aug., 

tory. The intellectual world is largely drifting away 
from religion because so many Christian teachers insist 
upon denying all value to the conclusions of Biblical 
criticism. We look on the Old Testament as dropped 
talis qualis straight from heaven. Such a view cannot 
live in the face of critical study.' We must admit de- 
velopment in Israel's history as in every other. We 
cannot honorably deny that the religious ideas of the 
Hebrews grew up amid legends which were more or 
less absorbed by them. But after all this is admitted, 
the Bible, with its Messianic hope, its providential pre- 
paration of the Jews, its Christ and His disciples, stands 
upon an irrefutable foundation of divine truth. 
(June): G. Lechalas, reviewing Lucien Arr^at's recent 
study of the state of religion in France, notices that 
while there are sad vagaries in popular piety, the abuses 
are not really so deep as they appear. He observes, 
however, that an intellectual appreciation of the grounds 
and motives of faith is lamentably lacking even among 
educated believers. 

£iudes (5 June) : Writing of the discussion now in progress 
on the practice of the " Nine Fridays," P. Vermeersch 
criticises the interpretation of the ** Twelfth Promise " 
given by P. Le Bachelet, S.J., in a recent issue of 
£tudes. By making the gift of final perseverance de- 
pendent upon the due fulfilment of all the conditions 
usually required for salvation, P. Le Bachelet, he thinks, 
has departed too much from the literal and evident 
meaning of the text, besides destroying altogether the 
distinctive character of the promise. Joseph Boub^c 
continues to discuss at length the arguments advanced 
for the Baconian authorship of Shakspere's plays. 
(20 June): As the result of a careful examination and 
comparison of the extant versions of the ** Twelfth 
Promise," Auguste Hamon concludes that while the loss 
of the original text is to be regretted, those texts we 
possess are evidently genuine, and furnish a sure and 
sufficient basis for present belief and practices. 

La Quinzaine (5 June) : P. Laberthonniere, writing on the 
relation between religion and the modern critical philoso- 
phy, gives a clear and vigorous answer to many of the 
objections brought against the " supernatural." In reply 



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1903.] Library Table. 701 

to the objection that supernatural religion is something 
out of all relation to human life, and hence can have 
no real interest for humanity, the writer shows clearly 
that the reason why supernatural religion has always 
appealed so strongly and still continues to appeal to the 
minds and hearts of men, is precisely because it, and it 
alone, gives a satisfactory answer to the complex and 
perplexing problems of life, it alone fully satisfies the 
highest cravings of man's heart and fills the empty void 
within his soul. Fran9ois Veuillot contributes a full and 
interesting account of the new "Social Movement" 
among the Catholic youth of France, and traces its ori- 
gin, nature, purpose, past achievements and future pros- 
pects. The lively and intelligent interest in the social, 
religious, and political problems of the day manifested 
by the rising generation, their courage and energy in 
face of present difficulties, their whole- hearted devotion 
to the cause of religion and true progress, are all sources 
of joy and hope to those who have at heart the welfare 
of France and of religion. 

(16 June): "The Separation of Church and State," by 
Abbe Naudet, is an able contribution on a question of 
much interest, in view of the present crisis in France. 
While fairly acknowledging the evils that have beset the 
church in the past because of her union with the state, 
and pointing to the mutual independence of church and 
state in their respective spheres, combined with mutual 
respect and co-operation as the ideal, the author is 
nevertheless of opinion that, owing to present conditions 
in France, total separation is not as yet possible, and 
he looks forward to an amendment of the Concordat as 
the best means of securing to the church that measure 
of liberty and independence which is hers by right, 
(i July): A full account of the liberal democratic move- 
ment in Italy, with a sketch of its founder and able 
leader, the Abb6 Murri. The object of this movement — 
which has the approbation of the Holy Father — is to 
bring the Catholics of Italy into closer sympathy with 
the existing social political order, to counteract as far 
as possible the evil effects arising from the increasing 
activity of the Socialists, thus paving the way for the 
future reconciliation of church and state. 



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702 Library Table. [Aug., 

Revue du Monde Invisible (June) : Mgr. E. M^ric criticises the 
various theories professing to account for the relation of 
the human soul to the body by postulating a tertium 
quid as a medium of their interaction, among which are 
the Astral Fluid of the Hindoos and the Plastic Medium 
of Cudworth ; as a result of his observations he declares 
that although some phenomena, both physical and men- 
tal, may seem to lend some plausibility to these hy- 
potheses they are nevertheless baseless and untenable. 
Albert de Rochas, writing on the subject of stig^atiza- 
tion, begins with the regret that the question is rarely ' 
treated without prejudice, and then proceeds to give the 
history of a case which he believes to be of particular 
interest because of the full and detailed account which 
is given of it and the impartiality of those who reported 
the fact and circumstances. 

Revue de Lille (May) : Contains an address delivered before 
r Association de la Jeunesse Catholique of Douai on Agri- 
cultural Syndicates, in which the nature and history of 
these organizations as well as their religious, moral, and 
social influences, and the many pecuniary advantages which 
they afford their members, are fully and clearly described. 

Democratic Chritienne (June) : Mgr. Delamaire declares that in 
their own activity lies the remedy for the deplorable 
condition of the proscribed Religious. He makes an 
earnest appeal to them to penetrate and leaven the 
masses of the French people with the training they have 
and which the masses need; and suggests a programme 
which, as he believes, if prudently carried out, will pro- 
duce a moral influence terminating in their own re-estab- 
lishment. Delcourt-Haill6t says the strike of the Ameri- 
can miners is a victory which involves one for their 
French brothers, for no longer will French strikes be 
thwarted by the threatened purchase of American coaL 
He commends President Roosevelt's breadth of mind in 
placing on the Board of Arbitration Bishop Spalding, who^ 
he remarks, is called the Lacordaire of the United States. 

Stimmen aus Maria Laach (May) : Rev. Victor Kathrein, S.J., 
writes on the Study of Philosophy, and insists on the 
very important place which it holds in a liberal educa- 
tion, and the intimate and necessary relation which it 
bears to theology and the natural sciences. Father 



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1903.] Library Table. 703 

Wassman, S.J., concluding his series of brilliant articles 
on the nature and habits of insects, adds to his own in- 
vestigation and study the observations and discoveries 
made in the same line by two of his correspondents in 
the Orient. 

Rassegna Nazionale (i June): Lina Maestrini writes upon the 
published correspondence of Rosmini and Manzoni, which 
makes it possible to . understand and love both the 
writers better than the great works in which the genius 
of poet and phik>sopher shine brilliantly. E. S. King- 
swan calls attention to the press notices of a recent arti- 
cle in La Rassegna on the Temporal Power, and to the 
summary of it given in The Catholic World, " which 
not believing it lawful to praise the article, and not having 
the courage to ignore it, cites it briefly without comment." 
(16 June): "Spectator" replies to Bishop Keppler's re- 
cent arraignment of the progressive Catholic movement in 
Germany. The bishop's utterance is characterized as a 
caricature of a nobly-motived endeavor on the part of 
some of the ablest and most faithful Catholics of Ger- 
many to bring the Church into closer touch with the 
modern spirit. The leaders of the movement hold as 
sacred as any others the teachings of Catholicity. They 
are not men whose faith has been diluted with love for 
modern learning, but on the contrary they are filled with 
zeal for the faith which they recognize as the salvation 
of society and the true guide of science. In . a word, 
the discourse has gravely misrepresented a great and good 
cause, and has cast unmerited discredit upon noble and 
illustrious names. 

Civilta Cattolica: Replying to a recent article in the Tribuna^ 
suggests that all who indiscriminately accuse the church of 
having sanctioned slavery, in her canons^ are either exces- 
sively ignorant or dishonest. Announcing the first volume 
of Vigouroux's Dictionary of the Bible, states that each ar- 
ticle has been personally overlooked by the abbe so as to 
insure its ** complete orthodoxy." When the writer on 
the First Epistle of St. John contents himself with stat- 
ing that the arguments against the authenticity of the 
Three- Witnesses passage seems to prevail, every well-in- 
formed reader will understand and approve his reserve. 



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4 Comment on Current tlopics. ^ 



The unprecedented numbers of men and 

Beligion in Sduca- women who attended the meeting of the 

tion. National Education Association just held in 

Boston give evidence of the intense and 
universal interest in the matter of education. It is estimated 
that about 50,000 were present, and they overflowed from the 
headquarters in the buildings of the Massachusetts Institute of 
Technology to the churches of Back Bay, the New England 
Conservatory of Music, and other buildings. Every character 
of topic connected with education was freely discussed, and the 
outcome of the debate on the important subject of the bacca- 
laureate course, engaged in by such men as Eliot of Harvard, 
Harper of Chicago, and Butler of Columbia, was only to show, 
by the positive diversity of opinions expressed, the chaotic 
condition of higher education in the American universities 

But together with this convention was held also a meeting 
of the Religious Education Association. This association is not 
of great age, but the eagerness with which its organizers have 
gone about their work, and the success with which that work has 
met, have given it a considerable power for bringing into our 
educational system what it most sadly needs — religious instruc- 
tion. It includes in its membership men of many different 
creeds, from all parts of the Union, professional educators, 
clergymen, and journalists, and their conventional work shows 
at least that, however they may differ in their views, they are 
alive to the mortal danger that besets the present system of 
non-religious education and are willing to adopt any practical 
plan to offset it. At the meeting in Boston, Professor George 
Albert Coe, of the Northwestern University of Illinois, stated 
that religion was the father of modern education, but the child 
seems to have disowned its parent and built up a system of 
apparently independent principles. Though not too clear in the 
reports given. Professor Coe seems to have argued the necessity 
of religion for the true development of the individual. Dr. 
Pace, the well-known professor of psychology at the Catholic 
University, agreed in the main with the conclusions of Professor 



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1903.] Comment on Current Topics. 705 

Coe and followed with a logical exposition of the necessity of 
religious training. 

A most certain sign of the mind , of the convention was 
found not alone in its evident agreement with Professor Coe and 
Dr. Pace, but also in its decided disagreement with the state- 
ments of Dr. William T. Harris, United States Commissioner of 
Education, who said that the matter of religion must be left to 
the church alone, and that the doctrine of separation of church 
and state demanded its complete divorce from the public 
system of instruction. Other members of the convention im- 
mediately took decided exception to his remarks. Dr. N. C. 
Schaffer, State Superintendent of Schools in Pennsylvania, showed 
himself a particularly earnest champion of religious instruction, 
and emphasized a good point when he said the teachers of 
nature-study were too apt to accentuate the material and the 
animal to the exclusion of the intellectual and the spiritual. 
The convention, of course, came to no practical conclusion as to 
a working plan, but the very holding of it and the nature of 
its discussions are an immense satisfaction in themselves. As 
Dr. Pace wisely remarked : " It is a great problem, which is 
not insuperable, and the fact that open discussion of it has 
begun shows that it will be settled in America." 

The Association will meet again in Philadelphia on the 3d 
of March next. Perhaps then further strides will be made 
toward a practical remedy, which is so sorely needed. 



Pilate's What is 



There is an exulting glory in the posses- 

« ^^ « ^ ^^ sion of the truth, apart from the rightness 
Truth? and the e ^ , 

Self-si^tisfying At- ^^ wrongness of our conduct in other re- 

tainment of the spects. Intellectual well being is an impor- 
Truth ^a.nt element, as well as moral and physical 

well-being, of that whole which makes a man. 

We take pride in physical prowess, as we also experience 
satisfaction in right-doing. Right-thinking has its satisfactions, 
perhaps too little attended to, undervalued or evaded. The 
exercise of mind in the pursuit of truth has, in the main, a 
natural reward similar to the exercise of muscle in the pursuit 
of strength. Again, there is an intrinsic moral value in the 
right exercise of the mind, as there is in proper conformity to 
the laws of hygienic and physical well-being. For our facul- 
ties are bound up into such an indissoluble unity that perforce 



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7o6 Comment on Current Topics. [Aug., 

they all more or less actively share in every exercise of life of 
our one personality. 

And so the will, the right- seeking and right* assenting will, 
is more or less involved in the very problems of right-think- 
ing; and the will to find, and the will to believe when found, 
is an essential element in our intellectual grasp for and hold 
of truth. 

It is therefore true that the possession of truth may be in 
some measure both a personal reward and a moral value of 
our whole character .and personality : and that the seeking 
after truth and the duty of inquiry is not dispensed with by 
the easy self-complacency of our otherwise moral conduct and 
life. 

These reflections are awakened at the thought of many 
whom we know, whose practical standards of conduct in many 
ways are high ; who, gauged by the natural laws of intercourse 
and relation are perhaps more strictly just, honest, and kindly 
than ourselves. And yet, who lack the light from above, the 
higher and sublimer truths, the faith in duty to God, Creator 
and Redeemer, the Christian inspirations 2lnd graces, which so 
deeply hold the homage of our own intellect, however imper- 
fectly they affect our will and outward conduct. 

How many there are among our acquaintances so naturally 
high-principled in ordinary human relations that they shame 
us by contrast with our deflections from the divine tenets 
which in mind we profess ! 

But do they who know less of truth than they might and 
they should, who settle themselves in a more or less indolent 
and self-satisfied complacency of their general and natural righ- 
teousness, who are kind, honest, just, helpful, un- angular — do they 
not also lack in total moral worth ? It is a defect in our moral 
nature to be un- inquisitive of duty to God; un-inquiring of 
truths of higher range than the requirements of immediate en- 
vironment and the goodnesses of the present hour. 

While kindly they pity our moral deficiencies, they are, 
perhaps, amazed at the serene light which the possession of 
truth has imprinted on our countenance; little reflecting that 
in their own regard the lack of it, the lack of a longing for it, 
has blurred the picture of the total character and veiled in 
themselves the image of God, so nearly otherwise developed 
and worked out. 



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1903.] Comment on Current Topics. 707 

With the sun and sky in his face, man can scarcely, with- 
out moral deficiency, confine his gaze — the active exercise of 
his mind's eye and of his will's desire — to the earth at his feet 
and the small ** pay sage ^* limited to immediate contact and, as 
it were, the mere sense of touch. 

" Altiora peto " was engraved and burnished on man's nature, 
and his moral character fails to be true to the natal hall-mark 
who seeks not higher, feels not deeper, and does not quiver 
with the greater appetite and thirst for the fountain - of living 
waters of eternal truth. 

There are many people so lovable in many ways ; so correct 
in human conduct ; so easily-to-be got-along-with ; but is our 
un-antagonized disposition to their personality enough, and the 
true standard and measure of their right- being? Is there no 
higher, truer, greater personality and standard with which and 
towards which a true equation is called for? 

Is there no Truth, on-beckoning to the intellect, enticing 
to the will, appealing to the heart, asking for intelligent and 
willing assent and embrace by us ; beyond and above the truth 
of inoffensiveness to others and self-satisfaction in the knowl- 
edge of it ? 

Or will you side with Pilate, when face to face with the 
Divinity, he' turned and went away without awaiting an an- 
swer, having asked the question : " What is 7 ruth f " 

The New York Times is very fast acquiring 
mie "New York ^j^^ reputation of being a distinctively anti- 
Times " and Papal ^ , ,r r«, . r . . 
Infallibility. Cathohc paper. This fact is very much to 

be regretted, because after all there is a 
certain ability and decency about it that make it in many 
respects an admirable paper. Scarcely a day passes but there 
is printed some fling at the things that its Catholic readers 
hold very close to their hearts, and this fling is given not in 
the way of honest opposition, but rather by suggestion or 
innuendo, or by stupid misinterpretation. An honest antago- 
nist may be respected, but not a hypocritical one. 

The latest bit of Times' wisdom is the editorial on The 
Pontificate of Leo XIIL (issue of July 21). 

It is the one discordant note in the chorus of praise that 
has come from the secular press in its estimate of Leo XIIL 
It is discordant, not because it does not give Leo a due meed 



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7o8 Comment on Current Topics. [Aug., 

of praise but because it is stupid and ignorant. The writer 
evidently knows nothing of the great work of Leo from the 
point of view of scholarship or of letters or of statesmanship 
or of social reform. He sees only the unpleasantness between 
the Popes and the Italian government, over what he terms the 
" miserable temporalities of their little province." It has all along 
been not so much a question of " temporalities " with the Popes 
as it was of the independence of the Holy See. Temporal 
power was necessary for independence — either that or the at- 
titude of protest Independence must be secured at all hazards. 

The stupidity of the editorial lies in the statement that 
" Probably no intelligent Catholic regards the dogma of the 
infallibility of the Pope, speaking ex-cathedra on questions of 
faith and morals, as any more sacrosanct than, in the view of 
any intelligent lawyer, is the 'dogma' of the infallibility in 
their respective spheres of the Supreme Court of the United 
States and of the Court of Appeals in the State of New 
York." 

The decisions of the Supreme Court are final as a 
finis litium, but the decisions of the Pope in matters of faith 
and morals are final because in these matters, when teaching 
ex«cathedra, he is preserved from falling into error by the 
Spirit of Truth. This on account of the promise of the in- 
dwelling of the Spirit of Truth in the church, " all days even 
unto the consummation of the world." Hence of a necessity 
every intelligent Catholic must deem the infallible decisions of 
the Pope more sacrosanct than the decisions of the Supreme 
Court. 

But why link together the Papal policy in Italy and the 
infallibility of the Pope, and speak of the wisdom of the 
Papacy in leaving a loophole through which it may reverse its 
decision. The editor has some very vague notions about the 
scope of the gift of infallibility, and probably thinks that infalli- 
bility includes all questions of political policy as well as of 
poetical license. The backwoods editor of a country paper 
said recently : " Now, where is the boasted gift of Papal in- 
fallibility? The Pope said he was going to die on July 16, 
the feast of the Carmelite Madonna. He did not. You can- 
not convince me any longer of the infallibility of the Pope." 

The Times did not make this mistake, but probably if the 
editor would read some little treatise on the Infallibility of the 



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1903.] Comment on Current Topics. 709 

Pope, like " Christianity and Infallibility : Both or Neither. 
Lyons" (Longmans), he would not make so many other mis- 
takes. 

The recent visits of both the Kaiser and 

CathoUcs and Edward VII. to the Vatican mean more 
Socialists m Ger- ...... ., « t a 

many. ^"^^ ^^ ordmanly attributed to them. A 

very strong side-light is thrown on the 
Kaiser's visit by the result of the elections in Germany. The 
elections were practically a defeat for the throne and a victory 
for the socialists. The government's candidate was defeated. by 
his socialist competitor in the town of Krupp, and in order to 
secure the election of the supporter of the government the 
Emperor paid a visit to this town. The socialists practically 
doubled their adherents, and now divide the Reichstag with 
the Catholics. An election of this nature . in England would 
mean a new ministry. In Germany it is altogether an anoma- 
lous position for the government It practically means that the 
government must rely solely on the Catholic members for its 
support in the popular assembly. 

In the light of this fact the visit of the Kaiser to the 
Vatican, and the interest the Kaiser is taking in Catholic things, 
and the expressed favor he is showing to Catholic prelates, 
and the influence he is said to be exerting in the election of 
the new Pope, his entire attitude towards the Catholic Church, 
takes on a new significance. 

Bismarck attempted to destroy the church. He would stamp 
it out by tyrannical law. In one short generation all this is 
changed. The Kaiser needs the church to support his throne 
and to uphold his power. Without it he would be at the 
mercy of the enemies of the throne and of all monarchical 
power. 



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PROTESTANTS AND THE POPE. 

On Sunday prayers for the dying Pope were offered up in several Protest- 
ant churches of whose services we have particular reports ard, probably, in 
many more as to which we have no such information. 

They were indicative of a change in the attitude oi Protestantism toward 
the Roman Catholic Church which is one of the most remarkable religious 
developments of recent years. Even not more than a quarter of a century 
ago that church, by far the greatest in Christendom, was usually excluded from 
consideration by Protestants when they were discussing the means and agencies 
for the propagation of Christianity. The article on the Pope in the IVesf- 
minsUr Confession, in which he was described as "that antichrist, that man 
of sin and son of perdition," represented the prevailing Protestant belief. 

Twenty-five years before this whole country had been stirred by a political 
agitation against the Roman Catholic Church which seemed to some prophets 
ominous of a religious war. That church, then comparatively feeble, has now 
gprown into the strongest in the Republic, yet, instead of the bitterness of 
hostility against it proclaimed and predicted by the old Know-Nothingism, 
there have come harmony and respect. In Protestant churches prayers were 
offered up for the suffering and dying Pope. The Roman Pontiff has become 
a Christian brother, and Protestants join with Catholics in celebrating the 
spiritual exaltation of his character and the services he has rendered to 
Christianity. He was described by a Methodist preacher of New York on 
Sunday as "a leader of the great army of the Lord's hosts," a ''spiritual 
commander-in-chief," a ** champion of the faith who has never wavered from 
the Catholic position and the theology of Thomas Aquinas," "who has done 
much for the progress of civilization," who " has restored the golden age of 
the Papacy in its best sense." 

Such a tribute to a Pope from a Protestant pulpit would have been im- 
possible when Leo XI IL ascended the Papal throne. The bitterness of the 
old Protestant controversy, as expressed in the article of the Westminster 
Confession to which we have referred, had been moderated even then, but it 
had not been mitigated to an extent which would have made possible such 
expressions in a Methodist pulpit, or in any other Protestant pulpit. Even 
then Catholicism was looked upon by Protestantism as apart from Christianity. 

A prayer for the Pope offered in an Episcopal Church of Brooklyn, how- 
ever, was in terms which suggested an old-time controversy, for he was de- 
scribed simply as " the Bishop of Rome," and, in a sermon preached by the 
rector, as the head of the " Italian Church." That is, the Rev. Mr. Swentzel 
took pains to emphasize his rejection of the Papacy, though he looked on 
"the general interest in Leo XIII." as "a happy omen for the future, as 
showing how people come together." "The old furious cries, * No Papacy' 
and 'Protestant heretics,'" he said, "will find no echo to-day." 

This leads us to say that we have observed a steadily growing spirit of 
toleration and respect in the many letters of religious discussion we receive 
from Catholics and Protestants. The time was when they flung the most 
offensive epithets at each other. Now, as it must have been observed, they 
reason together calmly and respectfully, and even leave to each other some 
chance of escaj e from the wrath to come. — New York Sun, July 14. 



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1903] The Columbian Reading Union. 711 



THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION. 

IT is to be hoped that the study of New York City, recently begun by the 
celebration of the first Charter, will be continued on broader lines to show 
the elements of strength that have contributed to the growth of the great 
metropolis of America within two hundred and fifty years. Many trading 
expeditions from Holland followed Hudson's discoveries, but the first perma- 
nent settlement was made on the lower end of Manhattan Island in 1623. 
Three years later Peter Minuit, the third Dutch Director-General, purchased 
the island from the Indians, who then owned and occupied it, founding the 
new city under the name of New Amsterdam. 

It has been computed that a single inch of the soil of Manhattan has been 
sold for more than was paid for the 13,487 acres. Had the price of the island 
been paid for in cash, instead of merchandise, the sixty guilders, or $24, would 
at present, with compound interest at the rate of 7 per cent., amount to 
$4,539,240,000, much more than the assessed value of the real estate of 
Manhattan Island for 1903, which is $3,490,679,832. 

In 1653, the little settlement of New Amsterdam, which had been ruled 
for six years by brave, honest, sturdy Petrus Stuyvesant, the last of the Dutch 
governors, received its charter and was duly incorporated as a city. Eleven 
years later an English fleet appeared under Colonel Richard Nicolls, and the 
place having no adequate means of defence it became by right of conquest 
an English town named New York. There had been much friction between 
the Dutch of the New Netherlands and New-Englanders, which continued in a 
measure even under Nicolls, the new governor, for we find him in 1666 writing 
to the Earl of Clarendon, advocating a direct trade between Holland and New 
York, and using as an argument these words : 

The strength and flourishing condition of this place will bridle the ambi- 
tious saints of Boston. 

From the quaint little New Amsterdam settlement of 1653, with its fifteen 
hundred inhabitants, let us glance for a moment at the New York of to-day, 
with a population of 3,752,903, increasing from immigration alone at our own 
gateway with most wonderful rapidity. Not only may we claim to be com- 
mercially second among the cities of the globe, but we are taking a proud 
position in otber respects. Our hospitals, our libraries, our museums, and 
our parks and schools are challenging the supremacy of the foremost capitals 
of Europe. 

There is also an increasing tendency among scholars and men of national 
reputation to seek homes in New York. In our city the famous Farragut 
found a harbor ; to our city came also the hero of Appomattox, and the illus- 
trious soldier Sherman, whose equestrian statue now commands attention at 
the entrance to Central Park. Here in New York may be found seeking 
homes men rich beyond the dreams of avarice, who are more or less wisely 
distributing their millions in the interest of charity, art, and education. 

According to the estimate of a writer in the Evening Post, while celebrat- 
ing the two hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the granting of her charter, New 
York took note that its population in 1653 was 1,120, and in 1903 it is 3,752,903 ; 



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712 The Columbian Reading Union [Aug., 

value of real estate in New York in 1653 $35,000, and in 1903 $3,490,679,832. 
Those who wish to argue that Christianity is falling behind, or that it is not 
doing so, may be glad to have material for controversy in what follows : In 
1653 there was one Christian church, and its seating capacity was 212. There 
were no Jews in the community. Excluding them now, one person in three 
attended public Christian worship when an actual count was made last Novem- 
ber. The value of the one church mentioned was $900. The value of 
churches in New York to-day is $133,400,000. This sum does not include 
many other millions invested in education, in charity, and in social enterprises, 
all dependent on Christianity for existence and support, but churches and their 
sites only. So near as can be ascertained, it cost considerably less than $1,000 
a year to maintain the one church of 1653. In 1903 Christianity, in all its 
varied forms, costs New York, for maintenance and extension of its own enter- 
prises, and not including what it gives to the rest of America and to the 
world, $28,000,000. 

The close of the city celebration calls to mind the fact that the names of 
Dominie Megapolensis and Governor Kieft, the Director-General preceding 
Peter Stuyvesant, are held in reverence by Catholics. It was during Governor 
Kieft's tenure of office, in 1643, that Isaac Jogues, a Jesuit priest, was captured 
by Iroquois Indians and brought down through Lakes Champlain and George 
to the Mohawk River. For fourteen months Father Jogues remained a slave, 
and while in captivity at Auriesville was dreadfully tortured. His body was 
mangled, his fingers crushed and burned until only the stumps were left, and 
finally his white companion, Rene Goupil, was killed. 

Hearing that the Indians had with them a French prisoner. Dominie 
Megapolensis and other Dutch residents of Albany offered to ransom the cap- 
tive, but were unsuccessful. Finally Father Jogues came down the river with 
his captors on a fishing expedition, and arriving at Albany was persuaded by 
the Dutch to board a vessel which was soon to sail for Virginia, and then Bor- 
deaux. After some difficulty he eluded the guards and boarded the vessel. 
For two days the priest remained in the hold of the ship, and then was 
brought ashore again, where he went into hiding, living for six weeks in a loft 
behind a number of barrels. 

Emaciated and weakened. Father Jogues was brought down the Hudson 
River by the Dutch minister, the Rev. Joannes Megapolensis, who had ever 
been his friend, the voyage to New Amsterdam consuming six days. The 
priest was entertained by Governor Kieft, who gave his guest good clothing in 
exchange for the savage costume he wore. There were then only two Catho- 
lics in New Amsterdam, a Portuguese woman, the wife of the ensign of the 
fort, and an Irishman from Virginia, and both received absolution from the 
first priest of their faith who had ever visited the town. 

Three months later Father Jogues sailed for France, arriving there on 
Christmas Day. Owing to the mutilated condition of his hands the priest 
could not observe the rubrics, and he journeyed to Rome to obtain permission 
to celebrate M^ss, which was granted. He remained but a short time in 
Europe, and again started for the New World. Arriving at Montreal, he was 
sent again to Auriesville to conclude a treaty of peace with the Indians. In 
this he was successful. 

Then Father Jogues went back to Canada, but soon was granted permis- 



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1903.] The Columbian Reading Union. 713 

sion to begin missionary work among his former torturers. He had barely 
started on his journey when the war broke out afresh ; and half-way down 
Lake Champlain the priest was captured, and this time condemned to die. At 
Auriesville the heroic missionary was put to death, his body being thrown into 
the river. 

The first priest to visit New Amsterdam was not forgotten, and to-day 
there is a shrine at Auriesville to which thousands of Catholic pilgrims journey 
each year. 

The Champlain Summer-School at Cliff Haven, N. Y., had in its pro- 
gramme for July 7 a special study of Governor Dongan by Alice Sterne Gitter- 
man, M.A. (Columbia), representing City History Club of New York. The 
synopsis of the lecture was as follows : 

Boundary Lines: Pennsylvania, Connecticut, East New Jersey, Maryland, 
Maseacbusetts, Montreal ; the Great Colonial Governor's Policy. 

The Provincial Charter,- i68j : Charter, a written grant ; three Kinds of 
Colonial Charters; previous New York Charters; the Duke's Laws, 1665- 
1683 ; the Dongan Provincial Charter of 1683 (Charter of Liberties and Privi- 
leges) ; the People — a Popular Assembly, Free Suffrage and Majority Rule, 
Religious Tolerance, Taxation by Consent only, the First Expression of Popu- 
lar Legfislative Authority. 

The City Charters^ 1686 : Corporation, a Legal Person of Continuous and 
Perpetual Identity; Corporation Rights in England; Esopus and the Riot 
Law ; Albany Charter ; The Dongan New York City Charter of 1686 ; Mayor, 
Aldermen, and Commonalty, One Body Corporate and Politique; Common 
Council; Courts of Justice; Excise; Free Citizen Privileges; Market Days; 
Trust Property ; The Basis of City's Municipal Rights until 1828. 

Books 0/ Reference : Stubbs' Select Charters; Magazine of American His- 
tory; Dillon's Treatise on Law of Municipal Corporations, Chapters i., ii., v., 
viii. ; O'Callaghan's Documentary History of State of New York ; Chancellor 
Kent's Notes on the City Charter ; Hoffman's Treatise upon Estate and Rights 
of the Corporation of New York ; Brodhead's History of the State of New 
York.; Banks' Albany Bi- Centennial. 

• « • 

A series of conferences bearing on Parish schools and Sunday-schools will 
be held at the Catholic Summer-School, Cliff Haven, N. Y., August 17, 18, 
19, at 1 1 : 45 A. M. Symposium on Wednesday evening, August 19, on the 
work for Italians and other Catholics from foreign countries. 

The Supday-school Confere^^e.for some years has hpen a prominent and 
pleasing feature of the Catholic Summer-School of America. The conference 
this year will begin August 17, an4 will occupy three days. 

The first session will be devoted to a discussion of the training of teachers. 
Course of study followed in the Normal Class for Catechists in New York City. 
Reports from Sunday-schools. 

The second session will be gfiven to the standards of study for First Holy 
Communion, under the following heads : 

Questions from the Catechism, how many ? 

Lessons from Bible History. 

Pictures and hymns as aids in arousing the devotional spirit. 

At the third session the following topics will be considered: 

Missionary work for the children through the Parish School and the Sun- 
day-school. 

How to reach all the children of the parish. The Children's Mass. Sta- 
tistics of progress in Parish Schools. 

Reports on Sunday-school work should cover briefly the following topics : 

1. Catholic population of the diocese. 

2. Number of parishes. 

3. Number of Catholic children. 

4. Number of children in attendance at Catholic schools. 

5. Number of Sunday-schools in the diocese. 



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714 The Columbian Reading Union. [Aug., 1903.] 

6. How many Sunday-schools continue the whole year? (No summer 
vacation. ) 

7. How many branch Sunday-schools in remote country districts ? 

. 8. How many Sunday-school conferences or conventions have been held 
during the year? What was the nature of the work at those meetings? 
9. What methods are in general use to encourage attendance ? 

(a) Rewards of what nature ? 

(b) Number of Sunday-schools that have Christmas-trees, picnics, excur- 
sions, etc. 

The undersigned Committee respectfully invite pastors, Sunday-school 
teachers, and all interested, to be present and to take part in the discussions. 

Rev. Thomas McMillan, C.S.P., Chairman, Director of 

St. Paul's Sunday-school, New York City. 
Very Rev. M. W. Holland, Port Henry, N. Y. 
Rev. Richard Ormond Hughes, New York City. 
Rev. Thomas J. O'Brien, Superintendent of Parish 

Schools, Brooklyn, N. Y. City. 
Mrs. B. Ellen Burke, New York City. 



Committee, 



M. C. M. 



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PiiiB X. : From Venice to the Vatican. 

A. DIABI8TA. 
Word on Socialiflm. rev, W. J. MADDEN, 
ove: A Chrapter in MetaphyBics. 

ALBERT lUBTNAUD. 

Glimpsea of Chateaubriand. (Illustrated.) 

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A LETTER FROM CARDINAL GIBBONS. 

The Very Rev, George Deshon, C.S.P., Superior of 
the Paulist Order, received, yesterday, the following 
letter : 

My dear Father Deshon: 

It gives me great pleasure to inform you that his 
Holiness, Pius X., grants to yourself and to your con- 
gregation of the Paulists his Apostolic Benediction. 
This favor was granted to me personally after I had in- 
troduced to his Holiness about seventy American pil- 
grims this very afternoon. Hoping, dear Father, that 
you are well, I am, 

Yours Faithfully, in Christ. 

J. Card. Gibbons. 

August 24y 190J. 



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Joseph Cardinal Sarto, 
the patriarch of venice, who is now reigning as 



Pope Pius \. 



lC809D908aaaO C B»BDB0B080B ttC «90909C809D8aP909060BC809^ ^ 



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THE 

CATHOLIC WORLD. 

Vol. LXXVIL SEPTEMBER, 1903. No. 462. 




PIUS X.: FROM VENICE TO THE VATICAN. 

BY A. DIARISTA. 

^FTER six ineffectual ballots, Joseph Cardinal Sarto, 
the Patriarch of Venice, received the requisite 
suffrages from the Cardinals in Conclave, and was 
duly proclaimed Pope- elect on August 5, assum- 
ing the name of Pius the Tenth. Of the many 
who were spoken of for the Papal Chair his name was rarely 
mentioned. Cardinals RampoUa, Serafino Vannutelli, and Gotti, 
were the leaders, and, as far as we know, in the early ballots, 
they received the greater number of votes; but no one of them 
could command the required two-thirds. Cardinal Sarto was 
selected as a non-political religious personage, with no pro- 
nounced policy to pursue towards the existing governments, 
and with an eye single to the highest interests of the church. 
He immediately drew unto himself almost the entire vote of 
the Sacred College. When the votes were read out he was 
overcome with emotion. He arose without a word, and walked 
towards the altar. All of a sudden the burden of the vast 
responsibility seemed to overpower him, and he became deathly 
pale, and tottered almost to a fall, but he quickly recovered 
himself For a few moments he knelt in prayer, and then 
rising, he turned to his colleagues and said : '' It is a great 
cross that I receive from you," and, in a few well-chosen words, 
he made known his willingness to accept the burden and the 
responsibility, for the sake of souls and the good of the church. 
Outside in the great square of St. Peter's many thousands had 
waited for four days with increasing impatience for the result 

The Missionary Socibty of St. Paul the Apostle in the State 

OF New Yosk, 1903. 
VOL. LXXVII.— 46 



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7i6 Pius X.: From Venice to the Vatican. [Sept., 

of the deliberations. For six times did they see the black 
smoke issue from the chimney, and when the white smoke came 
at the conclusion of the seventh ballot, a great shout filled 
the air. The throngs rushed into St. Peter's and out again. 
The Italian soldiery had all they could do to restrain the ex- 
citement, and when the vibrant voice of Cardinal Macchi was 
heard high up on the central portico, a hush as still as death 
fell upon the throngs. ** Annuntio vobis gaudium magnum ; 
Habemus Pontificem Emminentissimun Cardinalem Josephum 
Sarto qui sibi nomen imposuit Pium Decimum," continued the 
announcement, and then as the crowds caught the name Sarto, it 
was passed from mouth to mouth till the whole immense square 
seemed to ring with it. Expectant Rome took it up and it 
was not long before the news was being sent to the ends of 
the earth. 

In that immense crowd there could not be detected a note 
of disappointment. During the days of the balloting the air 
was filled with reports of intrigues that were being carried on by 
the civil governments, and the human element in the cardinals 
was eagerly discussed by their favorites. It impressed one as 
one passed in and out among the crowds very much as an 
election day in the United States does. As a matter of course 
every one had made his own choice, but when the result was 
announced there was a shout of exultation, and there was no 
one that did not appear to be gratified by the selection. 

Of the personality of the new Pontiff, little is known in 
Rome. His figure was rarely seen in the gathering of cardinals. 
He has the reputation of loving the work in his own diocese, 
and adhering closely to his duties in his patriarchal see. This 
much is certain, he was the idol of the Venetians. When he 
came out to celebrate in San Marco, the crowds that were 
gathered about the various altars left their places to follow his 
Mass. When he was leaving Venice for the Conclave the out- 
burst of enthusiasm that greeted him was unusually warm, and 
in his wonderment at the sight of the crowds that gathered to 
bid him God speed, he remarked : " Why, I am coming back, I 
have taken a return ticket.'* He was born in Riese, a village 
in the diocese of Treviso, north of Venice, on June 2, i835» 
He is, therefore, sixty-eight years and two months old. He 
however carries his nearly three score years and ten with an 
elastic step, and with a promise of many years of life. 



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1903.] Pius X.: From Venice to the Vatican. 717 

He studied m the seminaries of Treviso and Padua, and 
was ordained priest in Castelfranco in 1858. For many years 
he performed the ordinary duties of parish priest in several 
parts of the Venetian territory, which was then under Austrian 
domination. 

It was not till 1875 that he was employed in subordinate 
diocesan offices in the diocese of Treviso. In 1884 he was 
made Bishop of Mantua by Pope Leo, who, in the consistory 
of June 12, 1893, created him cardinal, and three days later 
appointed him Patriarch of Venice. He was Cardinal Priest of 
the title of San Bernardo alle Terme. 

Cardinal Sarto's appointment as Patriarch, gave rise to an 
animated dispute with the Italian Government, a nineteenth 
century revival of the question of investiture. The government 
claimed the right, as the successor of the Republic of Venice, 
to nominate the Patriarch, while the Holy See denied the right 
The government finally granted Cardinal Sarto the exequatur. 

In his office he has done all things that were bishop- like, 
and proved himself a strong and competent administrator. He 
has reformed the abuses that had crept in among the clergy, 
and in the performance of divine service. Among other things 
he insisted on the reading of the Gospel lessons and on having 
them explained in Italian to the people. 

He also encouraged the restoration of the Gregorian chant 
in the church service, and was one of the first to discover 
Dom Perosi. He is venerated in his diocese as a saintly man, 
whose whole life is given to the care of his flock. 

Cardinal Sarto's whole career has, therefore, been that of a 
parish priest who has risen to be bishop and then archbishop. 
He has had none of the diplomatic or court experience of the 
ex-Nuncios and Cardinals of the Curia, who make up the bulk 
of the Roman cardinals — those whose names have been men- 
tioned most frequently as candidates, like Rampolla and Van- 
nutelli. 

He is, moreover, a diocesan priest and not a monk or other 
regular, like Gotti, a fact that may well have had weight in 
the election, on account of the acute state which the question 
of the religious orders has reached in France, and other 
strongly Catholic countries. 

Cardinal Sarto's relations with the Italian Government were 
always extremely friendly, in spite of the difficulties made 



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7l8 PIUS X.: FROM VENICE TO THE VATICAN. [Sept., 

about recognizing him. He was looked upon as a Liberal, but 
his love for Italy was probably due to his being a Venetian, 
who had lived under Austrian rule when the rest of Italy had 
become united. He may become more conservative as Pope, 
but his attitude has been such as to warrant hopes of concilia- 
tion and peace, so far as the contradictory positions of the 
Vatican and the Quirinal in Rome will permit. 

The Pope is of humble origin, but his family for genera- 
tions has been noted for its fervent piety. He refers with 
pleasure to his humble extraction, and counts himself a son of 
the people. His grandfather, Leone Sarto, was a soldier in 
the Papal Army under Gregory XVI. His mother was noted 
for her charitable works and great faith. 

When Giuseppe Sarto was seven years old, his mother took 
him to the City of Treviso on a pilgrimage, and there made a 
novena, that the legend that every soldier of the Pope's army 
gives to holy orders at least one child, should be fulfilled in 
her boy. 

After his ordination he received his first appointment as 
assistant priest at the Church of San Rafael, in a small village 
named Tombola. He remained at this post from November, 
1858, until May, 1867. The vicar- general promoted him to 
the pastorate of St. Peter's Church in Salzano, where he re- 
mained from May, 1867, until March, 1875. 

While at Salzano Father Sarto established a conference of 
St. Vincent de Paul. As his rank increased he became more 
enthusiastic in this work. He lias probably done more to 
spread the work of the St. Vincent de Paul Society through- 
out Italy than any other prelate. 

In 1875 Father Sarto was selected chancellor of the diocese 
of Treviso, spiritual director of the Treviso Theological Semin- 
ary, and examiner of the clergy. In 1876 he was made judge 
of the ecclesiastical tribunal of the* same diocese. In 1877 the 
bishop conferred the highest office in the diocese upon him, 
the vicar of the Chapter of the cathedral. It was while ad- 
ministering the affairs of the Treviso diocese that he began the 
collection of what has since developed into one of the finest 
private libraries in Venice. 

During the nine years of his reign at Mantua, Bishop Sarto 
led a life as abstemious as that of his poorest parish priest. 
It was often said of him that the poorest man or most unfor- 



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1903.] Pius X.: From Venice to the Vatican, 719 

tunate woman could approach him for advice or aid. Denying 
himself all social amusements, he devoted many hours during 
each day to scholarly application. In 1880 he wrote several 
learned treatises on the authenticity of relics of the martyrs. 
He also prepared a manual of prayer, which has since been 
adopted in a number of Italian provinces. He wrote a number 
of poems dedicated to the Madonna. 

Unlike his predecessors, Sarto, as Patriarch of Venice, mingled 
freely with the poor of his jurisdiction. He had an hour each 
morning in which the lowly might approach him and tell their 
grievances. When he appeared in public, children flocked 
around him, and it is said that many times he has carried an 
afflicted child in his arms through the crowded thoroughfares. 
The gold chain of the pectoral cross and the episcopal' ring 
were the only evidences of his high rank. 

Walking one afternoon, he met a poor woman with a child 
in her arms, seeking aid. Stopping to question her, he learned 
the pitiful story of her fall and of efforts to secure employ- 
ment. The Patriarch, after giving her substantial aid, added 
these comforting words : " All mothers are good, and no queen 
is greater than a good mother." 

The Patriarchate of Venice has always carried with it .the 
additional honor of cardinal. In 1893 Leo XIII., at the fall 
consistory, bestowed the red robe on the Patriarch. The cere- 
mony of his elevation to the cardinalate was one of the most 
memorable events in the history of the church in Venice. In 
addition to the nobility and the foreign diplomats a multitude 
assembled at the great cathedral to witness the ceremony and 
receive the first blessing of the new cardinal. On this occa- 
sion Leo XIII. presented to the Patriarch one of the costliest 
pectoral crosses to be procured. It was seven inches long, 
with eight of the largest rubies in the Pontiff's possession in 
it. 

Although his elevation to the title of Prince of the Church, 
of necessity, placed certain social obligations upon the car- 
dinal, he continued to lead the same austere life he had fol- 
lowed during his earlier life. 

There is much conjecture among those who pretend to have 
unusual sources of knowledge about the policy of the new 
Pope. It is put down here not because there is absolute reli- 
ance to be placed on it, but rather because it may have more 



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720 Pius X.: From Venice to the Vatican, [Sept., 

or less of a foundation in real facts. It seems to be very true 
that Pius X. has no political affiliations. His selection was an 
effort to get away from the cardinals who had been somewhat 
pronounced in their relations with existing governments. He 
begins his reign with perfect freedom to consider the knotty 
problems arising out of the Italian question, or from the atti- 
tude of the French government, or from the complications of 
the Triple Alliance. All these problems as they arise will be 
settled on their merits without any past to apologise for or 
any future to pre-empt. 

It seems also very certain that Pius X. is a man of more 
than ordinary intellectuality, who has followed the teachings of 
Leo XIII. as a disciple follows the voice of his Master. As 
far as Leo could express a desire for his successor he has 
pointed to Cardinal Sarto. We may then anticipate that the 
new Pontificate will not only not be in any sense a reversal of 
the policies of Leo, but will be their echo. A man of Leo's 
stamp, with his great dominant mind, and his eagle- like spirit 
which pierced the clouds of the future, should be followed by 
one sympathetic with his ideas, who can hold things together 
until all his followers learn and assimilate them. It takes 
a whole generation for the crowd to assimilate the policies of 
a great leader. Principles are enunciated, they are then 
affirmed by the teachers, and finally they find their way into 
the text-books. The newer generation is then brought up un- 
der the influence of them. 

Leo's great work was formulated in his encyclicals. He 
faced an intellectual world that had torn up the very founda- 
tions of truth. Hence, it was necessary to relay these founda- 
tions, and to reaffirm the rights and duties of men to society, 
and of Christians to each other. The new Pope ^ill watch 
over these newly-laid foundations until they may afford a secure 
footing for men of all nations and of all creeds. Pius X. is, 
naturally speaking, if we take into account the traits of his 
character, just the man who is best fitted to do this work. 
Look at his picture, and his character can easily be read from 
it. His type is that of a man of great spirituality, with a 
kindly heart that goes out in sympathy to the poor in their 
sufferings. In this trait of his nature may be found his vast 
interest in social problems. As the result of his labors the 
Patriarchate of : Venice is now covered with a system of insti- 



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1903.] P^US X.: FROM VENICE TO THE VATICAN. 72 1 

tutions like co-operative banks and associations, helpful to the 
small tradesmen and the peasant farmer. He has the practical 
side of his nature strongly developed. The new pope is well 
fitted to take the great principles that Leo has enunciated in 
the Encyclical on the Condition of Labor, and make them issue in 
practical form of relief for the alleviation of the condition of 
the workmen. His head indicates a good balance between his 
powers, so he is not likely to be carried away into extremes. 
He is a man of greJt deliberation. He is sensitive, but his 
sympathies are always in control. He has that peculiar poise of 
head and face in which students of character say that the eye- 
ball is balanced both ways. It looks within and it sees with- 
out. Such is the man who is destined to round out and com- 
plete the work of the great Leo. His reign will probably not 
be memorable for the inauguration of new things. Leo has 
done enough on these lines for one century. But the advance 
guard will now mark time till the rest of the army comes up. 
Pius X. will draw all hearts unto him so that the constructive 
elements will solidify and make homogeneous the entire body 
of the church. 

The spiritual welfare of the church will command his best 
thoughts. His administration will not be with governments, 
but with the people. Strife and intrigue will be far from his 
methods, and peace and conciliation will inspire them. 

He will in all probability take up the work of Leo on Chris- 
tian Unity ; and here his peculiar gifts will contribute to an 
early success. The spectacle of the entire Christian world 
kneeling about the death-bed of a pope has not been witnessed 
before in Christendom for three hundred years. The way the 
non-Catholic heart has gone out to the new Pope, is striking 
evidence of the ripeness of the desire of the English-speaking races 
to come back to the old Mother Church. If his first address 
to the Christian world contains a note of conciliation and soul- 
ful invitation to all to come back to the old home, it will be 
eagerly listened to, and by many as eagerly accepted. 

The Eastern churches, too, are ready to return to the 
Mother Church. They are showing signs that the slavery of 
the civil power is becoming well nigh unbearable. Their patri- 
archs and their bishops have been obliged to accept any in- 
famy and condone any crime, and then publicly sing a Te 
Deum for it, as was done in Servia recently. Men who have 



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^22 Pius x.: from Venice to the Vatican. [Sept, 

consciences revolt against this thraldom, and, as a consequence, 
they yearn for the liberty of a spiritual principality. Leo has 
marked out the way for return. Their ancient privileges shall 
not be withdrawn, their immemorial rites shall be preserved 
intact. All that is needful is to recognize the spiritual author- 
ity of the Church of Rome, and conform in doctrinal life to 
her teachings. Cardinal Sarto, as Patriarch of Venice, was in 
touch with the East. He knows as much of their immemorial 
customs as any one in authority. He will undoubtedly hasten 
their return to the unity of Christendom. 

Moreover, the new 'Pope is in closer touch with Northern 
Europe, than any of his immediate predecessors. He speaks 
German fluently as though it was a mother tongue. In fact, 
when he was born Venice was under the domination of Austria, 
and German was the prevailing language, in court circles any- 
how. This familiarity with German has brought him in con- 
tact with the Teutonic mind and traits of character. It is an 
easy step from this to the English-speaking races. One of the 
first acts of his pontificate was to receive a large band of 
American pilgrims, and it was easy to detect that his interest 
in things American was already awakened. He has watched 
the growth of the church in the United States, and his ad- 
miration has been elicited not only by the strength of the 
faith among the American people, but by the wonderful ex- 
pansion the church has received. 

The American people, too, will like him. The fact that he 
has risen by sheer force of his own merits from an obscure 
origin to the highest position in the world, and in it all he has 
preserved his love for the simple ways of his early life, will 
commend him to their admiration. He has come from the loins 
of the people, and he loves their strength and their energy. 
He is pronouncedly democratic in his tastes, and in his daily 
life. There is, moreover, a very large human side to his 
character. All the world will love him as soon as they begin 
to know him. 



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1903] 



The Final Word on Socialism. 



723 




THE FINAL WORD ON SOCIALISM. 

BY REV. W. J. MADDEN. 

RIPPED of the verbiage of "economic condi- 
tions " and " political economy," socialism simply 
means the revolt of the poor against scanty liv- 
ing and rough wearing toil. This inequality of 
men and women, at all times and everywhere 
prevailing, ranks among the mysteries — puzzling problems of 
life. The discontent of the poorly equipped is aroused by the 
contrast of their lowly condition with the refinement and ele- 
gance surrounding the lives of others — men and women like 
themselves. When " my Lord Dunraven " brought his yacht, 
Val Kyrie, across the Atlantic to race in New York harbor for 
the American cup, a man in the crowd said, "That's how the 
money of the poor Irish tenants goes." This remark struck 
the fundamental note in the plaint of the socialist. Why should 
this man with a title of "nobility" possess thousands of acres 
of rich land in County Limerick, Ireland, which he seldom or 
never sees, and gather in an enormous rental, which he does 
nothing to earn, from the poor and hard-working tenants, to 
squander it in the idle and expensive pursuit of yacht- racing 
on another continent? To the man in the street there is 
something, in this monstrously unjust. Compare his life of 
spendthrift luxury in London and other places with the penuri- 
ous existence of the cottage farm-homsteads of the tenantry on 
his so-called " estate," and who can refuse to share that feel- 
ing — at the first blush at any rate ? So the awful inequality 
in the human lot strikes and puzzles the ordinary average 
mind of the observer of things in this world. Visit on the 
same day the " Dock " end of London and the " End " of the 
palaces and mansions in the West. These are but the large 
models of what may be found in every city in the world, 
less extensive, but still the same. You will see there in un- 
deniable realism the wide inequality in the human lot — the 
impassable gulf between the roughness of rude toil, dirt, dis- 
comfort, coarse raiment, coarse food, and scanty wage — and 



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724 The Final Word on Socialism, [Sept., 

grandeur, clean lives, elegant costumes, dainty food, abundance 
of money, rounds of easy pleasure of spendthrift wealth. What 
is to keep the swarming mass of comfortless toilers from fierce 
grumbling and imprecations when they turn their eyes on the 
pampered elegance of this favored minority ? Here is the rcot 
and reason of socialism. It has, to all seeming, a just and cry- 
ing grievance to work on. On natural grounds there could not 
be a juster cause of discontent and revolt against such intolerable 
unfairness. The world offers no remedy — has none to offer to 
these arguments of the poor, but opposes the force of organ- 
ized government to repress the discontent and revolt, were it 
actively to move on the possessions and position of the rich. 
This is the root of anarchy, which is socialism in despair. 
Away with this barrier bristling with bayonets and cannon that 
stand between the too rich and the too poor! That is the 
logical and natural conclusion and result for those who, with 
eyes on this world ponder only on this fearful inequality of 
human fortunes. Is there anything to restore content and per- 
suade resignation to this condition of things? It is an irony 
at this late date of the world to have to ask such questions. 

The condition of things is not new. It always existed. 
Still, it must be admitted that in a sense it is new to each 
passing generation of mankind, that is, it becomes new when 
the current generation refuses to avail of the experience of the 
past, to be satisfied with the motives which urged their fore- 
bears to accept and contentedly make the best of it. Nothing 
in the history of the race so powerfully contributed to this end 
in the past as the teachings of Christianity. It is , impossible 
to reconcile the multitude to a life of unequal and inferior 
fortune here without reference to a future life where compensa- 
tion shall be made them. But our current generation has, at 
least in a large and ever-growing majority, discarded Christian- 
ity, and put a future life entirely out of view. It faces the 
old problem in a new attitude, and wants the matter settled 
here and now in this world. 

Since the year 1793 new theories for its solution have been 
set afloat. No country set to work on them so vigorously as 
France. In violence and blood it abolished the upper classes, 
and proclaimed its famous trinity — Liberty, Equality, and Fra- 
ternity, for all the people and for ever more. But since then I 
have lived in France some years, yet failed to see any aboli- 



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1903.] The Final Word on Socialism. 725 

tion of inequality in the human lot. The same sharp division 
of classes existed there as elsewhere, the same masses of hard- 
working and struggling poor, the same numerous minority of 
the well-to-do and the rich is there, as everywhere. Liberty 
was a thing of sentiment. At most it was an exchange of one 
set of rulers for another, and in private life it meant there 
as elsewhere and everywhere, " obey the laws, work hard, and 
pay your taxes." Fraternity was a sham — an empty sham. 
The arm-chair theorists in other countries took up the problem 
of equalizing things for the vast human family and that great, 
modern question '' Socialism," was floated. Its ensign bore the 
word " Eureka." It was the key of the great puzzle. A more 
equal distribution of wealth and goods of life would cure every- 
thing, and bring contentment to all. It soon found itself in 
angry waters. The possessors of the wealth and goods raised a 
storm for their rights and possessions, and a hurricane clamor 
answered back from the hungry multitudes for their just share. 
It was a battle of the elements. It lasts still. Then out of 
the bafHed socialism came forth a hideous offspring, the pallida 
mors of anarchy. " If the rulers will not part with power, nor 
the rich give up their wealth, let us kill them all, let us re- 
duce all things to chaos and build up again," said the toiling, 
sweating, needy masses. A few crown heads and prime minis- 
ters and presidents of republics actually fell to assassin blows. 
Then the angry and organized forces of the rich swooped down 
on the assassins and choked their lives out. And so the hope- 
less war goes on, and men are as far from equal in their lots 
of lives as ever they were. Is it always to be so ? Is there 
no chance that the levelling up and levelling down process of 
socialism shall ever be realized? 

There are two or three things in the human condition that 
would make such socialism utterly unworkable. If every one 
had enough no one would do any work, at least any very 
toilsome work. The busy world would be brought to a stand- 
still. Now it would be utterly impossible for this to last more 
than a day or two. The craving for food would goad to work 
again. Food production and clothing production are at the 
base of all human labor, most of it very hard, irksome, and 
dirty work. If all started again on the same level everyone 
would want to shirk the dirty work and clamor for the clean 



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726 THE Final Word on Socialism. [Sept, 

and easy, as men and women always do. The world would 
perish of ' its own dirt-disease before the dispute could be 
decided. Again, that socialism should be at all feasible, the 
workers of this scheme should be able to arrange for an equal 
distribution among all the sons of men talents and mental 
capacity and physical aptitude. Can they so arrange that 
everyone shall have the same mental endowments, no one 
having more and no one having less talent than another? 
Never! They know they cannot. They therefore ought to 
know that even after the equal distribution of material goods 
were made and a fresh start given to the human family on 
equal footing of material fortune, very soon the talented, the 
quick-minded^ and the strong would again gain ascendency, and 
the same old trouble would be on their hands once more. 
But supposing all minds could be trained to the same mental 
capacity, as some foolishly say can be done by universal 
education, there are the moral or immoral qualities to be 
reckoned with, virtue and vice. The well-known vicious 
tendencies of men would soon upset those peaceful theories of 
a happy and fraternal equality, which look so fair on paper. 
Rogues and idle vagabonds would still abound. The keen- 
witted gambler, whether in stocks or dice, the panderers' to 
liquid gluttony and fleshly lusts, the pick- pockets and burglars, 
the bandits and smugglers and forgers and counterfeiters and 
murderers, all would still be there to make quick wreck of the 
smiling, peaceful contentment and equality with which socialism 
so simply aims at dowering mankind. Some natural virtues, it 
is true, would still survive ; but the motives to practice them 
proposed by socialism, namely, self- betterment and worldly 
well-being, are but incentives to that struggle which bring out 
all the meaner tendencies of human nature which quickly swamp 
and sweep away the milder virtues if found to be hindrances 
or are even seen to retard the end to be attained. 

Forty years of socialistic experiment, while in a few coun- 
tries it has gained for the wage-earner a little more money 
and shortened the hours of work, has by no means abolished 
the inequality in the human lot. This is a matter of fact. It 
is as glaring and as sharply marked to-day as ever it was, and 
what is worse, the vast masses in the lower and lowest scale, 
that is in the inferior and lower callings, are much more con- 



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1903.] The Final Word on Socialism. 727 

scious of it than ever before. Socialism has called their atten- 
tion to it so clamorously, and they are, therefore, more dis- 
contented, and, in addition, more embittered by the failure of 
foolish hopes so luridly held out to them, leaving them in a 
state of chronic and smouldering revolt This inequality in the 
human family may' then fairly be pronounced unalterable and 
incurable. What then is left to be done ? Why, it is simply to 
reconcile people to endure peacefully and as contentedly as may 
be a condition of human life that is above their power and beyond 
their reach. It is manifestly so. There never was perhaps a 
question on which such concentrated effort, open discussion, 
and honest, earnest, and eager endeavor were brought to bear, 
as on this one of equalizing the conditions of the human race, 
but, as everyone must admit, with almost unappreciable result., 
So it seems that reconcilement is the last word in this event- 
ful debate. If the view of the sufferers by this inequality, and| 
they ^re the great majority, be confined only to their tem- 
porary existence on this earth and all their hopes centred on 
that and only that, — then their case is indisputable, but also is 
very hopeless. They have been made vividly conscious of the 
inferiority of their lot, they have become painfully aware that 
it cannot be, generally at least, ever altered. So they are and 
must be discontented. When this discontent becomes acute, 
they make an end of it, or think they do, by ending life itself 
Suicide, that revolt against our lot, the last reckless resort of 
the despairing, is notably on the increase. It looks as if the 
agnostic pleaders for socialism- (they are all at least ignorers of 
Divine Providence) had sent forth their final message — "We 
have tried, and failed to bring you remedy, therefore kill your- 
selves, O all ye poor ! that is all we can now suggest" ; and 
many of them are doing it. That would be well, had they any 
assurance they were going to better themselves by suicide, and 
who of their naturalist friends can give them that assurance? 
They profess to know nothing of what happens after death. 
They may carve, as they do, " At rest," on the suicide's monu- 
ment, or on the monuments of unbelievers like themselves, but 
how can they know? 

I do not think it can be much clearer that there is left but 
one cure, and one only, for the revolt of the discontent so 
prevalent in all the world about us, and that is, reference to a 



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728 THE Final Word on Socialism, [Sept., 

future state, such as revelation presents to our minds. Not a 
vague thing, or a clouded hope, but the clear substantial fact 
that the soul survives into immortal life, where full compensa- 
tion shall be made for every inequality submissively borne, a 
time of restitution and restoration for the patient and faithful, 
also a time of disgrace and punishment for the wayward and 
unreasonable. This is the only incentive to men to bear with 
life at all. As long as religion- haters continue to ''dispel 
eternal hopes and sweep away from human vision the life of 
the world to come," so long will they keep the threatening 
and angry spectre of social discontent, like a Damocles' sword, 
dangling over the heads of men. 

To be practical, there is nothing left but to get the people 
everywhere to listen to God's message and messengers. This 
life, they proclaim, is not to be taken by itself, but only in 
reference to another, which will be its just and fair measure — 
work and wait for that. The Emperor of Germany has recog- 
nized this, and with a courage which does him great credit, in 
face of a scoffing and unserious world, he pleaded the other 
day, in a public speech, for a return to religious faith. Presi- 
dent Roosevelt, a man not unlike him, but of far solider build, 
feels the same way, and shows it in word and example. And 
President McKinley's dying words were a counsel and a legacy 
of wisdom, in the same sense, to all this great but too proud 
American people. Bismarck (who would have thought it?) 
said in a letter to Arnim, his brother-in-law, 1861 : "We are 
all in the powerful hands of God, and if he ,deign not to help 
us we can only bow in submission to his will. We must not 
attach ourselves to this life and think ourselves at home here, 
when we know that in twenty or thirty years at most, we shall 
be freed from the cares of this world. If everything ended 
with this life, it would not be worth the trouble of dressing or 
undressing." 

As against the unbelieving, worldly-minded rich, the agnos- 
tic socialist has a most logical position. By the example of 
the rich they are taught to look to no eternal future for com- 
pensation or betterment; they are taught to look for every- 
thing only in this life, and to take to the full every enjoyment 
that this world can give, regardless of every supernatural in- 
junction — which is only, of course, a myth, and does not exist. 



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The Final Word on Socialism. 



729 



Therefore the poor naturally say, let us possess ourselves how 
we can, and by every means we can, of what will give us a 
chance to enjoy ourselves in this world ; we should be fools if 
we did not; let us compel the rich to share with us; we are 
too poor to have any of the fun we see the carriage-folk and 
the club- men enjoying, therefore, let us invade their pleasant 
world; they have no more right to enjoy it than we, and if 
we cannot do that, at any rate we can break it up and ^poil 
it for them. 

This is unanswerable, and remains unanswerable, as long as 
the rich are sensual unbelievers, and stake all on this present 
world. That they may have an answer at all for their less 
fortunate and envious brethren, they must show them a better 
example, become more spiritual, more unworldly, less selfish, 
and begin again to study and put in practice, under the guid- 
ance of the one true Church, the teaching of Him who first 
proclaimed to men the strange truth : " Blessed are the poor 
in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." 

Thus the true cure for aggressive, rebellious, and discon- 
tented socialism, if not the only one, is in the hands of the 
rich themselves. 




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LOVE: A CHAPTER IN METAPHYSICS. 

REFLECTIONS FOR ORDINARY CHRISTIANS. 
BY ALBERT REYNAUD. 

[HE highest conception of Being, as an intelligent 
reality, is Love. Love is the most intense 
reality. It is life in its supreme and most dy- 
namic activity. The primal cause of created 
being is Love; as in last analysis it is the final 
cause of morality. Perhaps the simplest definition of the Di- 
vinity, the Supreme Being, is Love. 

Do these seem unguarded expressions? 

Hear St, John the sublime, saying: Deus caritas est. God 
is Love. 

These affirmations are the highest teaching and the furthest 
reach of metaphysics and philosophy. 

In real ontology, the world of real existences, being and 
life, crowned with intellect, become unintelligible without them. 
For as actualized intellect (whatever abstract theories may try 
to fancy) necessarily implies will, so intellect and will together 
inevitably postulate love. The fundamental and permeating 
assumption in ethics, to its final chapter, will be found built 
on the same affirmations; or it would be as meaningless as to 
speak of the morality of stones. Even in the cold world of 
logic and pure ideology we cannot think without the so-called 
principle of contradiction, which is simply the compulsory love- 
embrace of mind with being. 

In our world of contingent existences and realities, we can- 
not rationally explain their origin any more than their purpose 
or destiny ; nor harmonize them in any synthesis consonant 
with our consciousness and conscience ; except upon the fact of 
an absolute and infinite love — of which the other name is God. 

Origin, cause, purpose, law, order; any intelligible correla- 
tion of all these other realities with ourselves and of ourselves 
with them; — all these must be suppressed and banished, if we 
banish love. As in turn when we expel these principles from 
our concepts, our motives, desires, and our best and noblest aspira- 
tions, we have simply succeeded in turning the universe into 
chaos, and life into the most unlovely and unwishful element of it. 

Without love, man, thought, will, morality, any unifying 
force and systematic cohesion of the whole cosmic world, fail 
and commit suicide — having attempted deicide. 



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The RAMPAtTs OF Saint- MALOi 



GLIMPSES OF CHATEAUBRIAND. 



BY G. LENOTRE. 




I ROB ABLY no one had done so much by his writ- 
ings to bring France of the eighteenth century 
back to a recognition of the beauties of religion 
as the author of The Genius of Christianity, 
During the first days of the month of Septem- 
ber, 1768, the old walls of Saint- Malo were racked by a fearful 
tempest. For a whole week the waves lashed themselves in fury 
against the ramparts ; gusts of wind tore off roofs, beat down chim- 
neys, and rushed through narrow streets with pieces of broken 
slate and a torrent of brick and stone. The people, terrified, 
sought the church where the relics of Saint Malo were exposed, 
as in a time of great calamity. Finally the storm abated, and 
on Sunday, the i8th of September, the saintly relics were car- 
ried in a procession upon the ancient ramparts about the town, 
while the people assembled on the beach and chanted hymns of 
praise and thanksgiving. 



VOL. Lxxvii. — 47 



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732 Glimpses of Chateaubriand, [Sept., 

When this tempest was at its height there was born- in a 
house near the chateau and the sea the child who was to be- 
come Chateaubriand. " The roaring of the waves drowned the 
sound of my first cry," he wrote later. " They have often told 
me the story of that fearful time, and its sadness has never 
been effaced from my memory ; the heavens seemed to unite 
their forces in order to place in my cradle an image of my 
future." 

The house where he was born was situated in the Rue aux 
Juifs, and, in 1768, it bore the name of Hotel de la Gicquelais; 
it belonged to the Magon-Boisgarein family, and is to-day a 
part of the Hotel de France. His father had established him- 
self at Saint- Malo in 1758, and had engaged in some co.timer- 
cial operations with the hope of retrieving his fortunes. 
Although the poet has treated the pretensions of his family to 
nobility as childish, he nevertheless passed over these specula- 
tions of bis father in disdainful silence, as not being of any 
interest. The maritime archives of Saint- Malo are less discreet. 
They say that he made much of his money in privateering. 
With the profits of his speculations he finally set out to realize 
a long-cherished' dream. He bought one of the ancient fiefs 
of his family, the estate of Combourg, rich .in feudal rights; 
he proposed to live there as a gentleman. The eldest son was 
now in the army and one of the daughters in a convent. The 
little Ren^ thus became Monsieur le Chevalier, and, weeping 
bitterly, he bade adieu to his little playmates of Saint- Malo's 
shores. 

It was one evening in May, 1777, that he beheld for the 
first time the walls of Combourg. He had set out from Saint- 
Malo in the morning, with his mother and sister, in an enor- 
mous old carriage, with gilded panels and purple tassels, drawn 
by eight horses, caparisoned after the Spanish fashion with 
bells around their necks. The journey lasted the whole day. 

They supped that evening in the great hall, which occupied 
the whole body of the house and looked out upon a great pool 
of water; then they put the "chevalier" to bed under the 
roof, high up in a little tower chamber which had been pre- 
pared for him. 

Who would dare to rewrite the story of the youth of Ren^, 
the history of that passionate heart, after the touching con- 
fidences of " Outre-Tombe" ? A subtle sympathy grew up 



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Glimpses of Chateaubriand. 



733 




The ChAtbau op Combourg. 

between the child and the feudal manor where he spent his 
youth ; those ancient *walls taught him a respect for ancient 
France ; the aspect of the country over which the sea breezes 
swept engendered in him those poetic germs from which, later, 
came " Velleda," " Cymodocee," " Abencerage," and " Atala." 
His genius was formed and grew apace in this lonely spot as 
the mostjpr^cious pearls grow in the depths of the sea. 



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734 GLIMPSES OF Chateaubriand. [Sept, 

The enormous castle with its four towers, its high salons, its 
galleries, was inhabited by only four • persons : M. and Mme. 
Chateaubriand, Rene and his sister, Lucile. A cook, a house- 
maid, two footmen, and a coachman composed the domestic 
establishment. A hound and two old horses were in one comer 
of the stables. These twelve living creatures were almost lost 
sight of in a mansion which could easily have sheltered a hun- 
dred chevaliers, their wives, their maids, their valets, the 
hunters and the hounds of King Dagobert. 

M. de Chateaubriand was a gloomy, taciturn man, whose 
habitual melancholy seemed only to increase with age : haughty 
with his equals, harsh with his servants, despotic in his house- 
hold, one experienced a feeling of dread, or fear, on seeing 
him. He aros6 at four o'clock in the morning, summer and 
winter; he went immediately to the turret stairway and called 
his valet ; a cup of coffee was brought him at five o'clock, and 
he worked in his study from that time until midday. Mme. 
Chateaubriand and her daughter never appeared in the morn- 
ing; the little chevalier had no hour fixed for his rising, or 
breakfast; he was supposed to study until midday, but most of 
the time he did nothing. At half-past eleven o'clock dinner 
was served. The grand salon was at the ^ame time dining- 
room and drawing-room; the family dined at one end of the 
hall. After dinner they remained together until two o'clock. 
Then M. de Chateaubriand went to fish or hunt, the mother 
shut herself in her chapel, Lucile in her chamber, and the cheva- 
lier returned to his little turret chamber, or ranged over the 
fields. At eight o'clock the bell rang for supper; then, in fine 
weather, the family sat out of doors under the trees. M. Cha- 
teaubriand, armed with his gun, shot the screech owls which 
appeared upon the battlements at the approach of night ; Mme. 
Chateaubriand, Lucile, and Ren^ looked at the sky, the woods, 
the last rays of the sun, the first stars. At ten o'clock they 
went to bed. 

The autumn and winter evenings were of another sort. The 
supper finished, the four gathered about a table before the 
enormous fireplace in the great hall ; the chevalier writes : 
' My mother threw herself, with a sigh, upon an old couch 
near a small table on which was the one candle. I seated 
myself near the fire by Lucile; the servants cleared the table 
and retired. My father began walking the floor, a perform- 



\ 



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1903.] 



Glimpses of Chateaubriand. 



735 



ance which lasted until bed-time. He wore a coat, or rather 
a kind of cloak, of white cotton stuff, a garment that I have 
never seen worn except by him. His head, half bald, was 
covered with a great bonnet, which stood erect upon his head. 
When in promenading he left the fireside, the vast room was 
so dimly lighted by the single candle that we could not see 




The Chevalier's 

Tower Chamber. 



him ; we could only hear him still walking in the darkness ; 
then he would slowly return toward the light and emerge by 
degrees from the obscurity, like a spectre, with his white robe, 
his white bonnet, his tall, spare figure. Lucile and I exchanged 
a few words in a low voice when he was at the other end of 
the room, but were silent whenever he approached. He said 
in passing : ' Of what were you speaking ? ' Seized with ter- 
ror, we made no answer, and he continued his walk. The rest 
of the evening there was no sound heard save the measured 
footsteps, the sighs of my mother, and the moanings of the 
wind. 

" Ten o'clock struck : my father stopped ; the same spring 
which had started the hammer of the clock seemed to have 



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736 GLIMPSES OF Chateaubriand, [Sept., 

suspended his footsteps. He drew out his watch, wound it, 
took a huge silver candlestick with a great candle, entered, for 
a moment, the small tower- room on the east, then returned, 
candle in hand, and advanced toward his bed-chamber next to 
the eastern tower. Lucile and I arose and kissed him, wishing 
him good-night. He bent a lean and wrinkled cheek down to 
us, without answering, and continued on his way to his room, 
whose door we heard close behind him. 

" The spell was broken ; my mother, my sister, and I, trans- 
formed into statues by the presence of my father, now recov* 
ered our usual manner. Our relief at his departure manifested 
itself in a lively torrent of words ; if the silence had oppressed 
us, we made up for it now. Afterward, I called the maid and 
conducted my mother and sister to their rooms. Before leav- 
ing them, they made me look under all the beds, in the chim- 
neys, behind the doors, visit the stairways, the passages, and 
the corridors. All the ghostly traditions of the chateau re- 
turned to their minds. The people believed that a certain 
Count de Combourg, with a broken leg, dead three centuries 
ago, appeared at certain periods, and that he had been seen in 
the grand stairway which led to the turret ; - his wooden leg 
also sometimes promenaded with a black cat. 

" These tales occupied the whole time which my mother 
and sister spent in preparing to go to bed, to which they 
went half dead with fear ; I withdrew to my turret chamber." 

Twenty years ago, when some repairs were being made at 
Combourg, the workmen, in tearing away a wall on the ground 
floor of the castle, unearthed the skeleton of a cat, which 
must have been buried alive. It was, no doubt, the spectre of 
this creature that had haunted the castle for so many years 
and caused so many terrors to Mme. de Chateaubriand. No 
one knows what gave rise to this legend. The whitened bones 
of the mysterious animal are placed on a cushion in the great 
library. 

Above, in the turret, is preserved intact the chamber in- 
habited by Chateaubriand ; it is a small room, dimly lighted, 
in which there are several souvenirs of the author of "Atala." 
From this room Chateaubriand went to join the regiment of 
Navarre, at Cambrai; his father died while he was there and 
his mother returned to Saint-Malo. Combourg remained de- 
serted. 



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1903.] 



Glimpses of Chateaubriand, 



737 



Chateaubriand saw the court of Louis XVI., visited the new 
world, visited England, the Holy Land, Germany, sojourned at 
Rome, Berlin, Prague, Geneva, experienced the rigors of the im- 
perial power and the prisons of the liberal jnonarchy of July, and, 
finally, famous but old and disillusioned, always faithful to his 
royalist creed, and always poor, he came to establish himself in 
a small house in the faubourg of Paris, where he hoped to end 
his days. 

He had bought, after 1830^ a pavilion situated in the Rue 
d'Enfer, behind the Observatory and next to the Infirmerie 




The Tomb op ChAteaubriand. 

Marie Th^rese, which had been founded by Mme. de Chateau- 
briand. The place was extremely solitary ; from the windows 
of his salon the author could see a wood, a stretch of mea- 
dow, and a poplar alley ; the demolition of a wall brought his 
plot of ground in communication with the infirmary garden; 
he awoke in the morning at the sound of the Angelus ; he 
heard from his bed the chanting of the priests in the chapel; 
he saw from his window the Sisters of Charity in their sombre 
robes, the hospital patients and the old ecclesiastics walking 
about in the old garden. The room in which he worked was 
filled from floor to ceiling with books, and its entire length 
was occupied by an enormous oak table ; he spent almost the 
whole day there, dressed in a long, dark-blue redingote, but- 
toned up to his chin, and a pair of loose slippers. He had 



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738 GLIMPSES OF Chateaubriand. [Sept., 

for a companion a large gray cat that had been born in the 
Vatican. Leo XII. had brought the animal into the room in 
the folds of his robes when he received the ambassadors. The 
Pope being dead, the author of the Genie du Christianisme in- 
herited the cat, which was called Micetto, and, in his quality 
of the Pope's cat, enjoyed at the Marie-Therese a great 
amount of consideration. 

In 1836 Chateaubriand left this place and went to lodge in 
the Rue du Bac in order to be near Mme. Recamier. The 
man who had for so many years wandered over the face of 
the earth could now make only a daily journey from his hotel 
to the Abbaye-aux-Bois. Death had already begun its work; 
his limbs were paralyzed. Besides his daily visit to the Ab- 
baye-aux-Bois he went scarcely anywhere, ex"cept to the Mis- 
sions £;trangeres, near by, and to the Academy, where he 
went for the last time to assure the election of Ampere. His 
days were spent in reading the papers, dictating the last of 
Memoires d* Outre- Tombe^ and in sitting by his high win- 
dows, which looked out upon the hedges and parterres of the 
Mjssion. After breakfast his visitors were received ; he greeted 
them with an affability which preserved a touch of haughti- 
ness. To the Bretons who came to see him he always asked 
with a sad smile this invariable question : 

" You come from yonder ? Have you been to Saint- 
Malo ? " That meant, have you seen my tomb ? For twenty 
years he had been soliciting the municipality of Saint- Malo to 
cede to him on the eastern point of the islet of Grand- Bey a 
spot of ground just large enougli to contain his coffin. The 
mayor of Saint- Malo had answered that the sepulchre would 
be prepared by the loyal Bretons, and he added : ** A sad 
thought is blended with . this fraternal care ! May the grave 
remain empty for a long time ! " 

The concession, however, had not been obtained without 
difficulty. The Grand-Bey belonged to the military depart- 
ment, and the Department of War was somewhat disturbed 
over the seizure of its lands by the municipality. However, 
the mayor, M. Hovius, gained the day — the conference had 
lasted six years — and a subscription was raised for the con- 
struction of the tomb, which Chateaubriand, in Paris, directed. 

Chateaubriand died on July 4, 1848. 

Fifteen days later, his body, accompanied by members of 



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I903.] 



GLIMPSES OF Chateaubriand. 



739 



the family and the cur^ of the Missions £trangeres; arrived at 
Dol de Bretagne, where a deputation from the municipality 
of Saint- Malo came to receive it; a guard of honor watched 
near the body during the night. On the morning of the i8th 
the cortege took its way to Saint- Malo. All the inhabitants 
of the town were assembled and accompanied the body of the 
illustrious Breton to the cathedral. For twenty-four hours an 
immense crowd defiled sorrowfully before the catafalque. The 
next morning Mass was said by the cure of Combourg; then 
the coffin was carried at the head of a procession through the 
streets of the town; cannon thundered salutes, a band of 
music played the melody of the popular ballad, 

** Combien j'ai douce souvenance 
Du joli lieu de ma naissance," 

while the convoy passed the house where Chateaubriand was 
born. Symbols of mourning, attached to poles as well as to 
the rocky cliffs, marked the way which led the procession to 
the sepulchre. A great crowd gathered in the streets, at the 
windows, even upon the roofs, on the beach and upon the 
rocks which bordered them. 

The cortege reached the isle of Grand- Bey at two o'clock, 
and the coffin was there reverently lowered into the grave 
which had awaited it for twelve years. 




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740 VENERABLE ANNE OF JESUS, [Sept, 



VENERABLE ANNE OF JESUS, SECOND FOUNDER OF 

CARMEL 

fNNE DE LOBERA was personally a most attrac- 
tive woman. We are told that she was rather 
tall, her countenance grave and intelligent, her 
skin remarkably white, and that her well-shaped 
hands were apt at every occupation. She was 
full of energy and firmness, and it was said of her that she 
could have ruled a kingdom. Because of her brilliant qualities 
of mind and character; and in part, perhaps, because of her 
noble bearing and the beauty of her oval face, she was admired 
wherever she went. 

She was born November 25, 1545, at Medina del Campo, 
in the kingdom of Leon, in Spain, of Don Diego de Lobcra 
and Dona Francesca de Torres, both of noble and ancient 
families. Her father counted among his ancestors the famous 
Loba, Queen of Galicia, who collected and saved the precious 
relics of St. James. Her parents dying before she reached 
womanhood, she lived with her maternal grandmother, who 
used every effort to make her accept one of the many suitors 
who tried to win her. But Anne de Lobera, at the age of ten, 
had made to God a vow of virginity This vow at such an 
early age was, of course, not binding ; but on learning this 
the elect spouse of Christ only remarked that, if such were the 
case, she would renew it each day until it became so. 

To rid herself of these importunities she went to Placentia 
to her father's niother, but there she was even more sought 
after than at Medina. One morning there was a breakfast for 
the family and friends of a young relative, who had just been 
ordained to the priesthood. Anne, the chief among the guests, 
alone was missing. Suddenly the door opened and she ap- 
peared with shorn locks, her face bound in white linen, a veil 
over her head, her dress sombre and simple. All were as- 
tounded, but in the end applauded the determination of her 
farewell to the world. 

She now began a life of piety and seclusion almost monas- 
tic, such as was frequently led by the devout of those days in 



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1903.] Second Founder of Carmel. 741 

Spain. Her guide in the spiritual life was Father Pedro Rodri- 
guez, of the Society of Jesus, a learned and enlightened man. 
Among the mortifications ,he imposed on his fervent penitent, 
one rather amusing is told. It seems he was having a cate- 
chism class of little children on one of the Christmas days; 
and sending for Anne de Lobera, who immediately left the 
home festivities, he placed her among them. Whenever a child 
missed a question he would say, " I know one who would 
answer better than that"; and it was passed on to Anne. 
She, happening to glance up, saw peeping at her from their 
tribune all the fathers of the college. The discomfort to a 
naturally haughty nature can be imagined. 

With permission of her confessor, she gave herself to many 
severe penances, and God began to bestow upon her those 
supernatural states of prayer which afterwards became so con- 
stant and reached such an eminent degree. About this time 
she made two vows : one was to allow herself no satisfaction 
in anything whatsoever; and so great was her mastery over 
herself, that she was able to say at the end of her long life 
she had kept it even in the drinking of a cup of water. The 
other vow was to enter the religious order that was the most 
austere and the most perfect ; and this she and her confessor 
agreed was the Order of Carmel, the reform of which had 
been undertaken eight years before by that great woman and 
genius, St. Teresa of Jesus. Father Rodriguez applied for her 
admission, and his testimony made St. Teresa thus write to 
her : ** It is with the greatest pleasure, jny daughter, that I 
admit you among my nuns; from this moment I receive you, 
not as a novice and subject but as my companion and coadju- 
trix." She then offered her a choice of the six convents 
already founded, but added that she. would prefer to have her 
enter at Avila, her first-born, of which she was then prioress. 

August I, 1570, Anne de Lobera received the habit of 
Carmel at Avila, changing her name to that of Anne of Jesus; 
a custom which St. Teresa was the first to introduce, as such, 
in her monasteries. From the first day Anne of Jesus was a 
perfect Discalced Carmelite; and St. Teresa could not admire 
enough her talents and her virtue. Only three months after 
her entrance ^he called her to Salamanca, where she was mak- 
ing a new foundation, and constituted her mistress of novices. 
Her knowledge and direction of souls was remarkable, and her 



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742 VENERABLE ANNE OF jESUS, [Sept, 

own soul was reaching the highest states of prayer and union 
with God. 

The house at Salamanca, not havipg enough room for sepa- 
rate cells, St. Teresa shared hers with Anne of Jesus, and 
gave all the time possible to instructing her, and this often far 
into the night; treating her with the greatest confidence, and 
speaking to her of all her affairs. When visiting the cells at 
night to give the usual blessing, St. Teresa would stop at that 
of Anne of Jesus, and look at her long and intently, saying 
nothing. Noticing this she asked the holy mother why she did 
it. "Ah! my daughter," the saint answered, "it is because I 
love you so." She then made a little sign of the cross on her 
forehead, and caressed her with maternal tenderness. 

October 22, 1571, Anne of Jesus pronounced her solemn 
vows, in the presence of a multitude of people gathered in the 
chapel. .Advancing to the double grating she repeated three 
times the irrevocable words, when, carried away by the im- 
petuosity of divine love, she entered into a profound ecstasy; 
she was surrounded by light and her face reflected the beauty 
of heaven. St. Teresa, on hearing of this, had inserted in her 
constitutions that henceforth the nuns should make their vows 
in the chapter room, with no one present except the com- 
munity. 

From this time her raptures became frequent. Once on 
being sent from the choir to attend to some commission at the 
"turn," the prioress, wondering why she did not come back, 
went to look for her, and found her rapt and immovable. 

Four years after her profession she was sent by St. Teresa 
to the new foundation at Veas, where she was immediately 
made prioress. St. John of the Cross was the confessor of 
this community for several years, and a strong and enduring 
friendship sprang up between him and the Venerable Anne of 
Jesus. He admired her greatly, and even went so far as to 
compare her with St. Teresa, and after the death of the holy 
foundress he always spoke of Anne of Jesus as " Our Mother." 

During her priorate at Veas she was enabled to render 
great assistance to the Friars, once in aiding them in the pur- 
chase of a house, and again by making every arrangement and 
provision for the journey of two fathers to Rome to negotiate 
for the separation from the Friars of the Mitigation. Her part 
in this action, so advantageous to the whole Reform, was such 



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1903O Second Founder OF Carmel. 743 

as to cause St. Teresa to write to her : *' My daughter and 
my crown, I cannot thank God enough for the grace His 
Majesty 'has given me in bringing you to our order; for as 
when His Majesty brought the children of Israel out of Egypt 
He provided them with a column that enlightened them dur- 
ing the night, and during the day protected them from the 
sun, so, my daughter, your reverence is the column which 
guides, enlightens, and protects us. All that your reverence 
has done has been exceedingly well ordered. God is certainly 
in your soul, since you put such grace and ability in what 
you do." 

She was greatly beloved by her subjects, and when St 
Teresa, who wished to send her to found a monastery at 
Granada, bade them not to re-elect her, it was with sorrow 
and regret that she was obeyed. The Venerable Mother her- 
self, however, laid down the burden of office with great joy ; 
and it was said of her, that she showed herself more humble 
and obedient than the least novice, while she was more re- 
spected than the prioress. 

The foundation at Granada was the only one that St. 
Teresa entrusted to another. ^But, in allusion to the great ser- 
vice and assistance Anne of Jesus had been to her, she often 
spoke of her, in her humility of course, as foundress rather 
than herself; and once said to her, "You have the works, and 
I the name." And now, when St. John of the Cross made 
known to her the desires of her holy daughter to have her 
with her, she answered, "Where Anne of Jesus is, my pres- 
ence is not at all necessary." 

On arriving at Granada the nuns remained some time in 
the house of a devouf lady named Anne de Peiialosa, a peni- 
tent of St. John of the Cross, until a suitable place could be 
purchased. About one hundred applicants begged admission 
to the order, but none was thought suitable for the life. God, 
however, soon sent her some excellent subjects. Father Jerome 
Gratian, the provincial, commanded the , Venerable Mother to 
write an account of the foundation, which is somewhat after 
the style of St. Teresa's intensely interesting Book of Founda- 
tions, and is to be found printed with it in the Spanish 
editions. 

It is to the Venerable Anne of Jesus that we owe the 
wonderful and sublime work of St. John of the Cross, entitled 



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744 VENERABLE ANNE OF jESUS, [Sept, 

"The Living Flame of Love." Recognizing the profound 
depths and beauty of the spiritual canticle composed by this 
saint, beginning "Where hast Thou hidden Thyself, my Be- 
loved?" she urged him to enlarge upon it with commentaries 
and explanations. This he did, dedicating his now famous 
book to the Venerable Mother. In .the title as well as the 
prologue he states that it is at her instigation that he has 
composed his work; he also says that it is for souls such as 
hers that it is written, who know the subjects of which it 
treats not by scholastic science but through having experi- 
enced them. 

St. Teresa, during her life- time, had greatly desired a foun- 
dation at Madrid, the capital and the residence of the court. 
But permission was obtained too late for her to accomplish it 
Anne of Jesus was chosen by God to undertake this important 
work; important not only to the order in Spain, but because 
of the pi;esence there of the Infanta Isabella, who, with her 
consort, the Archduke Albert, was soon to reign in the Nether- 
lands, where, as we shall see, her devotion to the Venerable 
Mother caused her to send for her from France. 

When the nuns arrived at Madrid they remained about a 
week with Count Garcia de Alvarado, major-domo to the king, 
and his wife, the Countess Maria de Velano. The Empress 
Maria, who was much interested in the new enterprise, desired 
to see them. She designated as the place of meeting the 
monastery of Discalced Franciscans, where her daughter, the 
Infanta Margarita, had taken the habit, and where many noble 
ladies had consecrated themselves to God. On seeing the great 
daughter of St. Teresa and her nuns the empress welcomed 
them most warmly, presenting them to' the members of her 
court, who had accompanied her. She led them into the en- 
closure to the Infanta and the rest of the Franciscan commu- 
nity. The latter wished to keep Anne of Jesus among them, 
and even proposed this to her; and many of the court ladies, 
more free to dispose of themselves, begged her to admit them 
among her daughters. One of them was so earnest that she 
obtained, through the intercession of the empress, permission to 
be the first to receive the habit. 

Father Nicholas Doria, the provincial at this time, found for 
them a small house, which they entered September i6, 1586. 
To those who know St John of the Cross, it may be interest- 



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1903 ] Second Founder of Carmel. 745 

ing to learn that he was charged with purchasing for the new 
monastery a frying-pan and some^other kitchen utensils. 

The empress frequently visited the Venerable Mother, whom 
she venerated as a saint, saying stie had no other satisfaction 
upon earth. And the Infanta Isabella, to whom the Order of 
Carmel owes almost as much as to her father, Philip II., was 
no less devoted. This pious princess had the privilege, in her 
infancy, of receiving the blessing of St. Teresa, with these words : 
" May God bless you, my child, and give you the grace to serve 
him and to accomplish your great destiny." 

One of the most signal services that Anne of Jesus has ren- 
dered to God, to the Church, to the Order of Carmel, and to 
the entire world is the active and zealous part she took in the 
publication of the writings of St. Teresa. While the chief honor 
is no doubt due to the superior of the order. Father Nicholas 
Doria, it was greatly owing to her initiative and to her untir- 
ing energy that the work was accomplished. She regained the 
Life of St. Teresa from the hands of the Grand Inquisitor, and 
gathered the scattered manuscripts ; she spoke on the subject 
to her superiors, to the king, and to many men of learning 
and influence. Father Louis de Leon, a famous and erudite 
Augustinian, was commissioned to publish them. He dedicated 
his work to the Venerable Anne of Jesus and the Carmelites of 
Madrid, in words that prove his high esteem of them. 

The Constitutions which St. Teresa wrote for her nuns never 
having been approved at Rome, several of the prioresses of the 
different monasteries, fearing that changes might be introduced, 
wrote to the Venerable Mother concerning them. She, after 
consulting the most learned men in Madrid to assure herself of 
the expediency of appealing .directly to the Holy See, obtained 
the desired security in a brief to that effect. Her prompt and 
decided action preserved the Constitutions from possible muti- 
lation. 

In 1594 she left Madrid for Salatnanca, and on her way 
there was permitted by her superiors to stop at Alba de Tormes 
to visit the body of St. Teresa, and to assist in placing it in a 
new and magnificent case, the gift of the Duchess of Alba. 
She recounts in her deposition of the canonization of the 
saint : 

'' Because of the contentions that had arisen as to whether 
it should remain here or not, the superiors had kept such severe 



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746 Venerable Anne of Jesus, [Sept., 

guard over it that no one had been allowed to see it. They 
authorized me to open the iron chest closed with three keys. 
I had with me all the community and the two fathers who had 
accompanied me on the journey, the Director General, Father 
John of Jesus- Mary, and Father Diego of St. Joseph. We con- 
templated the body with great respect inspired by its state of 
incorruption, the sweet odor it exhaled, and the freshness and 
beauty of the flesh, which was like that of a living body. I 
began to arrange the clothing, and to consider it with attention, 
and I saw near the shoulders a place so colored that I showed it 
to the others, saying that it looked to me like living blood. I 
applied a linen, which immediately became tinged with blood, 
and which I handed to the fathers. I asked for another, which 
became saturated in the same manner. Meanwhile the skin re- 
mained intact and with no mark of a wound or break. I placed 
my face against the part of the body whence the blood flowed, 
reflecting on the grandeur of the marvel; for the mother had 
been dead for twelve years, and her blood was that of a person 
yet living." 

It was while prioress of the monastery at Salamanca, where 
she arrived a few days after this, that she was called to the 
great work of establishing the Carmelites in France. M. de 
Bretigny, M. (afterwards Cardinal) de BeruUe, and Madame 
Acarie were the chief instruments which God made use of in 
carrying out his design. In their earnest desire to have the 
daughters of St. Teresa in their own country they labored un- 
tiringly, and through obstacles of every kind ; the principal of 
these being the reluctance of the father general to permit the 
order to extend beyond the limits of Spain. He feared lest the 
Reform, which had been established with so much difficulty, 
might thereby become relaxed. Anne of Jesus herself, however, 
was very zealous for the work, and at last, with the permission 
and blessing of the father general, departed with five nuns. 
One of these was the Venerable Anne of St. Bartholomew, a 
lay-sister, who had been constantly with St. Teresa during the 
last four years of her life, attending to all her personal needs. 
She also assisted at her death-bed. 

They were warmly welcomed at Paris by the Princess de 
Longueville, who, at the suggestion of Madame Acarie, had ac- 
cepted the office and title of foundress, using her influence and 
generously supplying means. The ancient Benedictine Priory of 



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«903.] Second Founder of Carmel, 747 

Notre Dame des Champs, just outside the city, had been pre- 
pared for them. The church was allowed to remain, but an 
entirely new monastery had been built under the supervision of 
the three priests, MM. Gallemant, Duval, and De Berulle, who 
were their superiors. 

The Venerable Mother, following in the footsteps of St. 
Teresa, would not permit the first Mass to be said until she 
had obtained the blessing and consent of the Archbishop of 
Paris, Cardinal de Gondy, who sent his vicar-general for this 
purpose the next morning. 

Three days after the arrival of the Carmelites the Queen, 
Marie de Medicis, the princesses, and a great cortege came to 
visit them, and bid them welcome to France. The Queen asked 
for M. de Bretigny, and thanked him, in the name of the 
King, Henry IV., for having bestowed such a gift upon his 
kingdom. 

All who came in contact with the Venerable Mother ac- 
knowledged her great capabilities of mind and force of charac- 
ter. She had many difficulties to encounter, but she met them 
with virile firmness and undaunted courage. And Madame Acarie, 
who loved and admired her exceedingly, was astonished at the 
influence she so soon acquired. Meanwhile she was so visited 
by interior anguish and aridities that it seemed to her, as she 
said, God and her soul had remained in Spain. 

Vocations were so numerous that she soon thought of mak- 
ing a new foundation. About a year after their entrance to 
Paris she, with three of the Spanish mothers and two novices, 
left for Pontoise to establish there the second Carmel of France. 
At the first reception of novices Anne of Jesus said to them : 
^'You are in a most holy order, the Rules and Constitutions 
of which are so perfect that if you keep them faithfully, you 
will go straight from your death-bed to heaven." In this 
monastery of Pontoise, Madame Acarie, who entered the order 
as a lay- sister, spent the last years of her life, renowned for 
virtues and miracles. She is now venerated as Blessed Mary of 
the Incarnation. 

Towards the end of 1604 the superiors sent the Venerable 
Mother to found a Carmel at Dijon, where the sweet odor of 
the virtues of the new religious had already reached. Indeed, 
the peaceful condition of France at this time, after so many 
wars, was universally attributed to the arrival of Anne of Jesus 

VOL. LXXVII.— 48 



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748 VENERABLE ANNE OF jESUS, [Sept., 

and her companions. And Father Coton, S.J., confessor to 
Henry IV., being present at an exorcism, saw the devil con- 
strained to avow that there was no one in France who made 
such cruel war upon him as Anne of Jesus. 

In the monastery at Dijon took place one of the four re- 
markable cures experienced by the Venerable Mother through 
relics of St. Teresa. She was attacked by an epidemic that 
was raging in the city, and was prepared for death. M. de 
Bretigny, who had accompanied the nuns, asked her if she had 
any trouble or anxiety. She made the following response, wor- 
thy of her magnanimous soul : " I have no other pain than that 
of seeing myself die upon a bed ; for I have always desired 
and earnestly begged our Lord to lose my life in the midst of 
tortures and after having been, for love of him, torn into a 
thousand pieces." Then asking for the toque of St. Teresa, 
she held it to her, praying with the utmost confidence. Sud- 
denly the saint appeared to her, lovingly regarding her with a 
smile upon her lips. Remembering a promise the holy mother 
had made to assist at her death, she thought this a fulfilment of 
it ; but the saint said to her : " No, my daughter, the time has 
not yet come ; your poor children would be too desolate with- 
out you." And approaching her faithful coadjutrix, she be- 
stowed upon her a perfect return to health ; at the same time 
announcing to her that she would carry the Reform into 
Flanders. 

The great regret of the Venerable Mother and the other 
Spanish nuns had always been that they were not under obe- 
dience to the order; and it was their hope and intention to 
get the Friars of the Reform into France, and to place them- 
selves immediately under their jurisdiction, as had been the 
will and desire of Saint Teresa. To this the French superiors 
were entirely opposed, so that the Venerable Mother decided 
to return to Spain ; but God had greater works in store for 
her. 

Towards the end of the third year in France she received 
a most affectionate and pressing letter from the Infanta Isa- 
bella, now reigning in the Low Countries, begging her to in- 
troduce the Carmelites into her domains. She therefore de- 
parted with several companions in 1607, escorted by the chap- 
lain of her highness and two noble ladies of Brussels. On 
arriving at the capital they were taken immediately to the 



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«903.] Second Founder of Carmel. 749 

royal palace, where they were received with inexpressible joy 
by Isabella. The pious Infanta would not permit Anne of 
Jesus to kiss her hand, but warmly embraced her. They were 
conducted, on the approach of evening, to their new home, 
prepared for them near the palace; and entered the chapel 
chanting the "Laudate Dominum," as was St. Teresa's custom. 

There being no enclosure for three days, a multitude of 
people came to see the new nuns; the Infanta was the first to 
go, attended by a numerous suite. Among those who ac- 
companied her was a young lady of the court named Yolande 
de Croy, aged thirteen, who then determined to become a 
Carmelite when she should have arrived at the required age. She 
was clothed in the habit of Carmel in 16 10, taking the name 
of Teresa of Jesus. 

Another young girl, Margarita Manriquez, who visited the 
Venerable Mother during these days, was of quite a different 
mind. She had come with her mother, who much desired to 
have one of her daughters enter this holy order. Anne of 
Jesus, on greeting Margarita, said : " This one is the first to 
whom I shall give the habit.'' Margarita had never thought of 
such a thing as being a nun, and she began to laugh, saying 
to herself : " If this saint can't prophesy any better than that, 
she had better keep quiet; for this time she is beautifully mis- 
taken." Six months after this, however, the same girl became 
the first Carmelite of Belgium. 

The Infanta, not content with inviting the nuns to her 
dominions and providing a convenient house for them, wished 
to build a monastery and chapel according to the plans traced 
out by St. Teresa, she herself laying the first stone. While the 
material edifice was progressing the Venerable Mother occupied 
herself with the spiritual, and her first act was to use every 
endeavor to bring the Carmelite Fathers to Brussels. She 
wrote, as she says herself, a hundred times to the father 
general in Spain, and the Archduke Albert wrote also in her 
behalf; but the Spanish friars were firm in their determination 
not to leave their own country. They had refused even the 
Holy Father when he invited them to Rome ; but His Holiness 
gathered together the friars who were then in Italy, formed 
them into a community; thus founding what has been known 
as the Congregation of St. Elias, or of Italy. The two con- 
gregations of Spain and Italy have lately, under the generalate 



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750 Venerable Anne of Jesus, [Sept., 

of Father Jerome-Mary of the Immaculate Conception, now the 
illustrious Cardinal Gotti, been united into one. 

It was to Rome then that Anne of Jesus finally turned, 
begging the general of the congregation of Italy to send 
capable and holy religious to Belgium. She wrote so able and 
zealous a letter on the subject to the Pope, Paul V., that he 
exclaimed on reading it, " Oh, the holy woman ! " 

Success now crowned her efforts, and in 1610 Father Thomas 
of Jesus, a Spaniard by birth, with several fathers, arrived in 
Brussels. The Venerable Mother had made every preparation 
for them, even to furnishing the church, sacristy, and cells. 
The nuns with solemn ceremony transferred their obedience 
from M. de Bretigny to the father general at Rome, represented 
by Father Thomas of Jesus. 

The joy of the Venerable Mother can well be imagined, 
and she was further consoled by the ever- increasing success of 
the ministry of the friars, and above all by their salutary in- 
fluence on the nobility, which caused the Infanta Isabella to 
say: "Since these fathers have come, I no longer recognize the 
court; it is wholly reformed." 

Besides the convent at Mons, which the Venerable Mother 
went in person to establish, she saw her labors crowned during 
the space of seventeen years by more than sixty monasteries 
in France, Belgium, Poland, and Germany. She wished the 
convent at Cracow, in Poland, to be founded from one of the 
Italian Carmels; but those most interested in the affair insisted 
that, since she would not go herself, she should at least send 
some of the religious she had formed. She also sent two of 
her daughters from Brussels to aid in the foundation of the 
monastery for English Carmelites at Antwerp, from which the 
American Carmels have come. 

She had been in Flanders but a short time when she had 
the writings of St. Teresa translated into Latin, and then into 
Flemish; the French translation, by M. de Bretigny, having 
preceded the nuns into France. 

The year 16 14 saw the crowning of the Venerable Mother's 
dearest desire in the beatification of St. Teresa. She had done 
much to prepare the way for this in the most efficacious 
manner by spreading everywhere the knowledge of the life and 
works of the holy Foundress of Carmel. The cause advanced 
so rapidly that thirty- one years after her death Paul V. pub- 



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1903.] Second Founder of Carmel. 751 

Hshed the brief of her beatification. The first celebration of her 
feast was carried on with the greatest display and pomp in the 
Brussels monastery, which the Infanta was wont to call ker 
monastery. The Blessed Sacrament was carried from the nuns' 
choir to the newly finished church, which she had built with 
truly royal munificence, and which was decorated for the oc- 
casion with hangings ornamented and embroidered by Isabella 
and her ladies of honor. After the Hign Mass of the feast the 
statue of St. Teresa was carried in procession through the city. 
Thus was the Holy Mother honored by her most illustrious 
daughter, whose heart was filled with jubilation on this joyful 
occasion. 

During the last four years of her life Venerable Anne of 
Jesus was afflicted with a most terrible complication of diseases : 
gout, dropsy, paralysis, tumor of the chest, a constant trembling 
that produced wbunds in various parts of her body, and a 
swelling of the throat from which she was in constant danger 
of suffocation. Often she was unable to speak or to lift her 
hand, and could only move by crawling on the ground, as she 
says, " like a worm." She was unable either to sit or lie down 
for any length of time, so that she had continually to have her 
position changed, during both day and night. To this was 
joined the greatest desolation of soul. She bore all with heroic 
patience, and with the same magnanimity she had evinced in 
all the events of her life. Her great mind lost none of its 
clearness or capacity for affairs, and her generous soul desired 
no relief this side of heaven. 

In spite of her condition the archduke and duchess, as well 
as the superiors, applied to Rome for permission to keep her 
in the office of prioress. This was a great affliction to the 
Venerable Mother, and made her shed bitter tears. ** Is it possi- 
ble," she said, "that while the Church, like a compassionate 
mother, relieves me of all obligation. Religion will not deliver 
me from this heavy burden ? " But God sustained her with his 
powerful hand, and she still continued to take active measures 
for foundations in Belgium, Spain, and elsewhere ; besides caring 
for all the interests of her own community and directing each 
one of her daughters in the way of perfection. Every morning 
she had herself carried to the Communion window to receive 
the Sacred Host ; and she made heroic efforts to be with her 
nuns whenever it was at all possible. So great was her love of 



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752 Venerable Anne of Jesus. [Sept., 

labor that she would not dispense herself from it; and even 
when she was wheeled into the garden, would lean from her 
chair and pull up the weeds. 

It was not, therefore, the fear of labor that made her com- 
plain, but the knowledge that she was kept in her position be- 
cause of her sanctity. She could not support the thought, and 
this circumstance is the only one in which she seems to go 
beyond the bounds of * moderation. In writing to the Bishop 
of Osma, her cousin, she says : " All, even their highnesses, 
have fallen into this frenzy; for such it is, to wish to commit 
the government of the house to a phantom like myself." 
"The nuns are so foolish," she exclaimed, "that they wish to 
have a prioress whom they must carry in their arms ! " 

Any manifestation of veneration for her she turned into 
pleasantry. Thus, when this same Bishop of Osma expressed a 
desire for her old habit, which he wished to keep as a relic, 
she wrote : " Your devotion to our habit made me laugh. I 
shall not send it to you, because I wish to be buried in it, as 
a recompense for its having served me for forty-eight years." 

In the beginning of 1621 her condition became still more 
alarming. Her ordinary resting place during these years of 
mortal illness had been a mattress of straw spread upon the 
floor ; and it was here her daughters laid her on the evening of 
the fourth of March, where at nine o'clock she breathed forth 
her seraphic soul to its Beloved. 

The body of the Venerable Mother took on a supernatural 
loveliness after death, and reflected the glory of her soul. 
Her face was beautiful, grave and smiling; her members flex- 
ible ; and her flesh fair and fresh, exhaling a sweet odor. 
While she lay in the nuns* choir, strewn with flowers, multi- 
tudes of people came to lopk upon her, and to have their 
rosaries, medals, etc., touched to her holy remains. One of the 
nuns, who had been paralyzed for eight years, on kissing her 
feet was instantly and entirely cured. 

Many miracles have been wrought through the intercession 
of the Venerable Anne of Jesus. Steps for her canonization 
were immediately taken ; but it has been reserved for Leo XIII. 
to pronounce her virtues heroic, and to declare her Venerable. 
Her cause is next, of the Saints of Carmel, on the Rota, and 
it is the fervent desire of all who know and admire this valiant 
woman that we may soon see her placed upon the altars. 



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1903.] THE Skirl of Irish Pipes. 753 




THE SKIRL OF IRISH PIPES. 

BY SHIELA MAHON. 

[LL morning midst the maddening din of a great 
city it had been ringing in my ears — the skirl of 
Irish pipes, with their waves of plaintive melody. 
Touched by a master hand, it runs through the 
gamut of human emotion ; now faintly clear, like 
the far-off voices of happy children; anon sad, like a mother 
in pain ; then again passionately tender with love's own plead- 
ing. I rise and go hastily to my window to convince myself 
that I am not dreaming, and pierce eagerly the maze of a 
Broadway crowd to find the player. Alas I there is none ; it 
is merely an hallucination of memory, and the cause of it a 
box of shamrock lying on my table in all their vivid greenness. 

My hot tears fall and wither the delicate petals, and through 
a mist I see the home of my youth gleaming shadow-like 
through the vapor of Slemish. It is early morning, and the 
quiet fields are dew-spangled; the kine are browsing on the 
hill-side; the Slemish is slowly rising phantom-like from the 
white mists. In another hour it will be sunrise, and the young 
god will adorn her with dazzling raiment, hiding all her rugged- 
ness, and transforming every dark tarn into diamonds of flame, 
and every cornfield into rivers of gold. I see it all. O God ! 
I see it all; and as a miser clings to his treasure, I cling to 
my memories, fearing that, like all transitory things, they may 
flee and leave me desolate. ... 

Again I hear the sweet, clarion-like music keeping time to 
the marching feet of my mountain lover. 

" My Donal Bawn, with eyes of dawn and hair like ripened 
corn." 

Again I run to meet him, and together we climb, hand- in- 
hand, the golden hills of Slemish. To me those moments were 
the Glorias in life's Rosary; each forming an oasis on the 
Calvary way, giving the spirit renewed vigor to mount the 
steep heights. Oh, happy hours when, forgetting the world 
and by the world forgotten, we wandered in fields elysian, nor 



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754 THE Skirl of Irish Pipes. [Sept. 

dreamt that an angel stood with flaming sword to drive us 
from our Paradise. How well I remember the day my Donal 
came with a look of care in his eyes, which he strove to hide, 
but which, with love's keen instincts, I quickly noticed. 

" Pulse of my heart," he murmured, " I have bad news. 
My uncle is dying, and my mother insists on my going to him. 
You know I am the heir ; besides," he added, " the poor old 
fellow is fond of me." 

"Who would not be?" was my thought as I looked at his 
lithe form, in the fulness of early manhood, and the frank, open 
countenance, with the eyes sparkling wells of truth and the 
clear, firm- cut lips. Perhaps, O God! I was too fond of him. 
I clung to him with a vague presentiment of danger. " Don't 
go," I cried, shaking like a leaf. 

" But I must, Mary," he said, looking down at me from his 
great height. He was over six feet, and I was a little, dark 
thing, scarcely reaching to his shoulder, with a pale face and 
masses of shadowy hair, possessing nothing that he should have 
chosen me as his pearl amongst womanhood. His " White 
Rose," he called me. " You are just as high as my heart," he 
used to quote. "And your eyes are dark pools of unknown 
depths into which I would never tire gazing." 

"Take care lest you fall in!" was my merry retort. 

"Your warning comes too late, little one. I lost my head 
at the first glance, and tumbled in body and soul; and now I 
am down in the magical depths, I find it so delightful I care 
not to leave it." 

" But must you go, Donal ? " was my selfish cry. 

" Duty is duty, dearest ; would you have me shirk it ? " 

" No," I answer, doubtfully, though in my secret heart I 
wish Duty at the bottom of the sea. 

"Besides," he adds, cheerfully, "it is only for a few weeks. 
It will soon pass. You are going to have a visitor. My mother 
wishes to see her son's ' White Rose,* " he said fondly. " I told 
her' all this morning." 

"I hope she will like me," I murmur. "Sometimes I am a 
bit prickly." 

"You are sure to like each other," he said earnestly. 

" But I am not her choice," I answer weakly. " Wasn't 
there some one else? I am only a poor little girl with fifty 
pounds a year to live on, and scarcely a friend in the world." 



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^903.] THE Skirl of Irish Pipes. 755 

" Enough," he added, a trifle sternly, placing his hand over 
my lips. " I shall finish the sentence for you. You call your- 
self a poor little girk And what am I ? A great big, hulking 
fellow, not fit to tie your shoe-lace; knowing you has made a 
man of me. As for the money, thank God, for your sake, I 
have plenty. It goes to my heart to sec you, day in, day out, 
teaching — teaching. But that will soon cease." 

We are sitting on a rock at the top of Slemish. At our 
feet nestles the fertile valley of the Braid, its young fields 
decked in tenderest green, its hedges pink with the promise of 
spring. Further away lies the town, the faint blue smoke from 
the houses ascending spiral- like into the soft gray haze below 
the amethyst and rose of the sunshine. To the west, through 
the changing chaos of drifting vapor, I see a cloud — small, 
black, and ominous — rapidly advancing, gathering strength from 
the gray and white forces until it becomes a compact mass, and 
like a great army threatens to destroy the golden palace of the 
sun-god. I watch it in fascinated silence. Is it an omen of 
the future? I shiver involuntarily. Donal slips his hand into 
mine. 

"White Rose," he whispers, "why so sorrowful? Shall 1 
play you some of our favorite airs ? Behold in me the rival 
of the lark ! " And he cast a laughing look towards his be- 
loved pipes. " After all my trouble, and braving the ridicule 
of the villagers to gratify your whim of listening to my poor 
music on the top of Slemish at sunrise ! Was there ever such 
an ungrateful maid ? " 

" O Donal," I answer penitently, *' forgive me. But play, 
play ! " I reiterate, wildly. ** Perhaps it will drive away my 
sad thoughts. Who knows when I shall see you again ? " 

" Now, little woman, no more of that," he says, gently but 
firmly. " I shall be back in a month at the latest — and then — " 
He opens his arms with an involuntary gesture, whilst a look 
of ineffable love streams over his face. 

I turn away my head. My poor, weak affection seems so 
cold beside the lava of his burning passion. Tears of joy well 
in my eyes, and a silent prayer rises from my heart in thanks- 
giving for this most precious of all gifts — a good man's love. 

Surely the world never listened to such music as that 
which my Donal played that early spring morning on the top 
of Slemish. Old Gaelic airs of surpassing beauty that seemed 



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756 The Skirl of Irish Pipes. [Sept, 

to have imbibed the very spirit of the mountain. Now glad, 
like the sunrise, with all its magic colors woven into exquisite 
harmonies and rippling over with laughter, like the stream 
tumbling down the hill- side; now sad, with the weird loneliness- 
of the mountain and the solemn rustling of the leaves in 
autumn ; now stormily, like the wind in a hurricane tearing 
up young saplings in its fury ; yet withal strangely sweet. I 
listen with a pleasure which in its intensity almost amounts to 
pain. 

" Donal," I ask, huskily, " play ' Savourneen Deelish.' " 

A shade passes over his pleasant face. 

" Too sad," he murmurs. '^ But, if you will, why I must" 

With this whimsical saying he commences. 

The plaintive, wild agony of the air is too much for me; 
the tears run down my face like rain, and sob after sob re- 
lieves the tension of my overcharged feelings. 

" Mary ! Mary ! " A pair of loving arms enfold me- 
"You must not give way. Think of the future — the bright, 
beautiful future." 

" I can think of nothing but your going," I answer, weakly. 

"But it is for such a short time," he urges, cheerily. 

A wet drop falls on my face. I look up startled. All the 
golden glory of the sun has vanished, the sky has become 
gray, and there. is a moaning sound of wind whistling through 
a coppice of young larches that but one moment before were 
radiant in their borrowed loveliness. 

A keen sense of desolation seizes me. Again the awful 
thought — Is it an omen? 

" Come, Mary, we must go. It is turning to rain, and your 
• dress is thin," Donal says, tenderly. " I see signs of a change,'* 
and his keen eyes scan the horizon anxiously. We hurry down 
the hill-side, but before we are half-way down the storm bursts 
in all its fury and the air is filled with the hoarse rattle of 
thunder, whilst flash after flash of lightning throws up the 
rugged grandeur of Slemish. 

Terrified, I cling to Donal, who, despite my remonstrance, 
takes off his coat and puts it round my trembling form, for 
the rain is coming down in torrents. At last, thoroughly satu- 
rated, we reach the gate of the tiny cottage — beside the old 
school -house — I call home. As we stand the rain ceases sud- 
denly, and the sky clears, and from the blue of the heavens 



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JQos] THE Skirl of Irish Pipes. 757 

a shaft of sunlight falls and rests on the fair head of my 
lover. • 

" A good omen/' he says gaily, as he bends his handsome 
head until his face meets mine. Then one long, lingering look, 
and I am alone. . . . Ah ! the weariness of the days that 
followed.' The everlasting routine of teaching was never more 
welcome than now, for it helped to fill in the lagging hours. 
Then, without warning, like a thunderbolt from the blue, 
came the crisis. The third day after Donal's departure I was 
sitting amidst my pupils, drilling them with an eagerness that 
astonished myself, when a shadow darkened the doorway, and 
a lady of most imperious presence stood before me. She had 
my DonaFs eyes, but with the glint of steel where his were 
all softness, and I shivered as I met her gaze. 

"You are Donal's mother," I murmur, rising. 

" I am the mother of Squire Darragh," she answers for- 
mally. " Can I speak with you in private," as the wondering 
faces of the children dawn upon her. 

"Yes," I manage to say, and I leave my pupils in charge 
of a monitress, and lead the way across the green path which 
intervenes between my cottage and the school-house. Not a 
word is spoken by either until we reach my little sitting- 
room. Then the haughty eyes scan me up and down, and a 
sneer destroys the calm of the perfect lips. "He has not 
bad taste," she murmurs audibly. 

I felt the hot blood rush to my brain at the cool insolence, 
but gave no further sign, 

" Girl, this fooling must end," she said, fiercely. " I will 
never give my consent. Would you ruin my son ? " 

So totally unexpected was this attack that I could not speak 
a word, but stood like a dumb thing before her. 

" Speak," she said imperiously. " Say what you mean to 
do. What money will satisfy you ? " 

The coarseness of her words burns through the armor of 
my pride like molten lead, searing my self-respect and leaving 
a very canker spot of agony. I could cry aloud in my abase- 
ment, but restrain myself, and answer quietly, " Madam, you 
forget you are speaking to your son's future wife ! " 

I saw the proud face wince, as if from a blow; then there 
was silence, only broken by the quiet tick of the clock on the 
mantel-piece and my own throbbing heart. 



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75 8 The Skirl of Irish Pipes. [Sept, 

" Madam " — I hardly know my own voice, so hoarse, so con- 
strained it sounds — " I never sought your son, and before God 
I vow, after what has passed, I will never marry him until you 
come on your bended knees and ask me. I am poor — God 
wills it," I add with proud humility — " but I have yet to learn 
that a Blake is no match for a Darragh." With head erect 
and eyes flashing, I throw open the door, through which my 
visitor passes silently, relieved yet ashamed- looking. 

*' What have I done ? " I reiterate again and again when I 
realize all that has passed. " Thrown away my own happiness, 
and all because of an angry woman's taunts. Did Donal know 
his mother's feelings ? " I ask myself, and the serpent of doubt 
enters into the paradise of belief in my lover. 

"No," I cry aloud passionately, ** nor will he ever know. 
I shall send in my resignation at once, and the broad seas will 
divide us before his return. Oh, my love ! my love ! we were 
too happy." Then I fall to weeping bitterly. 

Before the week is out I sail secretly, under an assumed 
name, for New York to an aunt, the only relation I have in 
the world, who has long entreated me to live with her. When 
I arrive I am so weak and ill that I have to be carried off the 
steamer, and for many weeks I lie prostrate after a sharp attack 
of brain fever. And it is a very white-faced girl who stares 
out of a Broadway window and imagines she hears the skirl of 
Irish pipes. 

Can it be possible, I ask myself, that only three months 
have elapsed since the sun of my happiness set? Three years 
rather, each day of interminable length, for it is freighted with 
the misery of a soul in agony. Has Donal .forgotten me ? No 
word. They say Love overcomes all obstacles. I smile drearily. 
Three short decades-^-so soon! "Love is deathless"; I laugh 
aloud in bitterness of spirit, and the sound jars on my over- 
wrought nerves and leaves me weak and hysterical. My brain 
is on the verge of madness — a little thing would overtopple it; 
a little thing saves me. My wild eyes rest on the tender green 
of my box of shamrocks, and a peace indescribable creeps over 
my tortured spirit. With loving fingers I place them in a glass 
and note every perfection of the delicate trefoil through the 
radiant transparency of the water. Again I am on Slemish, 
and a whiff of mountain air cools my fevered brain. So real 
is it that I turn round involuntarily, and the face of my lover 



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1903.] The Skirl of Irish Pipes. 759 

rises before me, pale and worn, with eyes that look as if they 
had never slept, but with the light of great love in their burn- 
ing-depths. He stands there reproachful, but with outstretched 
arms. Am I dreaming? 

" Mary ! " The voice breaks the spell, and with a crooning 
sound of gladness I hide myself in that loved shelter. "White 
Rose," he whispered, " why did you do it ? If you only knew 
my agony when I found you gone and not a trace. My mother 
was in as great trouble as myself." 

I look at him incredulously ; but in his perfect simplicity of 
heart he sees it not, and continues gravely : 

" She gave me a message for you " ; and fumbles for a note, 
which he hands me in silence. On it were traced the following 
abrupt words : " Girl, forgive my cruelty. I throw myself on 
your mercy. Donal knows nothing; it would kill me if he 
should learn the part I acted. When I saw his misery I suf- 
fered as woman never suffered before. On my bended knees I 
implore your pardon. Take my son, make him happy, is the 
prayer of his mother." 

I tear up the letter into shreds. " Donal will never know/' is 
my silent thought; and I turn a happy, glowing face to my 
lover. 

" White Rose," he says, " my mother welcomes you " ; a 
little anxious expression stealing over his face. 

" Yes," I answer gaily, " it was all a misunderstanding. 
Djnal, Donal," I cry wildly, "take me home to Slemish. This 
hot city chokes me. Oh ! for a breath of mountain air and the 
skirl of Irish pipes." 

"White Rose, do you remember that last day after the 
thunder-storm ? " 

"Shall I ever forget it?" I answer passionately. 

" The sun is shining after the storm," he says joyously. 
" Did I not say that it was a good omen ? " 

My happy silence satisfies him, and hand-in-hand we enter 
again into the garden of love. Overhead the sky is blue, 
and the birds are singing, and we lose ourselves in its gol- 
den maze. 



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An Annunciation.— Philip Martiny. 



ECCLESIASTICAL SCULPTURE IN AMERICA. 



BY SADAKICHI HARTMANN. 




UR age is an age of specialism. The majority 
of men, whose careers are successful, devote 
themselves, no matter what profession they are 
pursuing, to a specialty. This even holds good 
in art. Modern artists differ among themselves 
quite as often as experts in any other branch of culture or 
of science. 

It is particularly so in sculpture. There are architectural 
and monumental sculptors, sculptors who devote themselves 
exclusively to animals, and sculptors who utilize their skill in 
making models for bronze statuettes. It is, therefore, not 
strange that also ecclesiastical sculpture is a profession by itself. 
Ecclesiastical sculpture has almost completely isolated itself 
from the other branches of the glyptic art, and, sorry to state, 
it has not gained by this isolation. Industry, which in recent 



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1903.] Ecclesiastical Sculpture in America, 761 

years has made such astonishing progress in the cheap and 
rapid production of utilitarian articles, threatens to take pos- 
session of church art, by deteriorating it into a trade. Already 
a large number of our churches display in their frescoes and 
statuary a wearisome succession of stereotyped mediocrities, 
whose production has been strictly mechanical. Statuary which 
can be produced by the dozen from one mould cannot be 
classed as sincere and thoughtful art. Such figures afford no 
scope to the artist, who is obliged to consider the practica- 
bility of easy casting as more important than the artistic ren- 
dering of the figure as an ornament itself. It is taken for granted 
in every other branch of art that work, if it is to be good 
work, must have some definite claim to originality — not that 
the canon of religious tradition must be defied, but the artist 




Figure for a Tomf. — >t. Gaudens, 



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762 Ecclesiastical Sculpture in America. [Sept., 

must have freedom to exercise his own fancy. But what is of 
special concern in this matter is the fact, that even the most 
spirited composition in clay is apt to lose all clearness of form 
by a mechanical process of reproduction and become lifeless and 
commonplace. The replica are mere plaster casts, as sold by 
the Italian street venders. They differ only in dimensions. To 
cover the shortcomings color is often applied to the casts, but 
no one with any degree of taste will be deceived by so crude a 
substitute. The sacredness of the figures represented, as well 
as the sanctity of the place for which they are destined, de- 
mand material of a high order, like wood, natural stone, or 
metal. A substitute which is easily breakable surely cannot 
take this place. It is also easy to understand that figures 
without any definite claim to originality, especially when copies 
after the same pattern, may bd found in every church, cannot 
appeal to the nobler instinct in human nature. 

Who is to blame for those conditions ? One might put the 
blame on the clergy, who as a body do nothing to raise the 
standard of church art by their own initiative; and one might 
blame the artists, who know that this standard is deplorable 
and yet hold themselves aloof. The artists shall be dealt with 
later on ; the clergy deserve a word on their behalf. 

The average clergyman who packs up his bag and comes 
to New York to arrange for a new window, a new rercdos, or 
a new piece of statuary, generally strays to some big commer- 
cial house and chooses some ready-made design. He is an ex- 
cellent parish priest, no doubt, but neither by nature nor by 
education is he qualified to act as an arbiter in matters of 
artistic taste ; he himself would never dream of laying claim to 
such qualifications. He is satisfied with what he gets, and 
his parishioners, taking it for granted that their clergyman 
must be infallible in any matter of church decoration, are sat- 
isfied also. 

The sculptors, on the other hand, defend themselves with 
the statement that they find it impossible to compete with 
factory labor. The majority of sculptors have abandoned 
church art almost altogether, and the others who have made 
it a specialty find it difficult to escape the devastating influ- 
ences of commercialism. There are a number of ecclesiastical 
sculptors, who take their profession seriously. The St. Patrick 
by Joseph Sibbel in the St. Patrick's Cathedral, New York, is 



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1903.] Ecclesiastical Sculpture in America, 763 




An Angel in relief in Judson Memorial Church.— Herbert Adams. 



indisputably a conscientious piece of work. But forced to 
work as quickly and cheaply as possible, even talented men 
like Mr. Sibbel often find it impossible to bring their indi- 
viduality in play. They are obliged to compromise and trans- 
form their studios into ordinary workshops. 

The making of a statue is too expensive a process to allow 
a man to experiment or to execute many works to suit his own 
fancy. He must receive an adequate remuneration for his 
labor, or he will, in many instances, find himself unable to 
complete his work. 

There is no doubt that our sculptors are capable of doing 

VOL. LXXVII.— 49 

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764 Ecclesiastical Sculpture in America. [Sept., 



superior work in this line ; and it would be astonishing if 
such were not the case, as there are after all few fields which 
offer greater scope for the sculptor's genius, and few directions 
in which his talents can be exercised with greater influence on 
the public taste. 

It is encouraging to know that the greatest of our living 
American sculptors, Augustus St. Gaudens, the author of the 
Lincoln monument in Chicago, and the Shaw monument in 
Boston, and the Sherman monument recently unveiled in New 
York, has more than once entered the field of ecclesiastical 

sculpture. His first serious 
work, executed at the age 
of twenty-nine, the exquisite 
group of angels called "The 
Adoration of the Cross," in 
the St. Thomas Church, New 
York, is one 01 the most 
beautiful church decorations 
made in modern times. There 
is to me a special delight in 
studying the. earliest works 
of an artist. One becomes 
acquainted with his first im- 
pressions of the world, when 
they were still naive, for art 
is nothing but the flower of 
human personalities Flower- 
like it breathes out perhaps 
not its strongest, but often 
its most delicate perfume soon 
after bursting. In our times 
at least, if a man is born 
with something to say in 
form and color, he is likely 
to say the best of it very 
soon after he had fair mas- 
tery of his tools rather than 
later, when manifold com- 
missions, family concerns, and 
the ever advancing invasion 
Moses.— William couper. of the commonplace, made 




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1 903. J Ecclesiastical Sculpture in America. 765 



him think of his vocation less 
as an art and more as a busi- 
ness. 

This hardly applies to St. 
Gaudens, for his art has steadi- 
ly advanced, becoming maturer 
and more powerful with every 
year. And yet there are many 
of his admirers who consider 
his angel relief, and his angel 
for the Morgan tomb, his most 
beautiful, and at all events 
most ideal accomplishments. 
The fire of Botticelli seems to 
tingle in their marble limbs. 
They are poems of lines, com- 
bining the devotional spirit of 
the primitives with modern ele- 
gance in the most exquisite 
*' fashion. 

But it was not St. Gaudens 
alone who tried himself in ec- 
clesiastical decoration. The an- 
gel relief at the Judson Me- 
morial Church by Herbert 
Adams, a pupil of St. Gaudens, 
is an exquisite piece of work. 
Another man who does very 

original and characteristic work in this line is M. M. Schwar- 
zott, an Austrian by birth. His work at the Paulist Fathers' 
Church, the magnificent columns, with their bases representing 
the four evangelists, andi their capitals with angels' heads, has 
attracted a good deal of attention, and the panels on the 
organ on the north side of the church, representing two 
kneeling life size angels holding a shield with a Biblical 
quotation, show that he is a genuine artist. It is gratify- 
ing to hear that the sculptural work of the St. John's 
Cathedral, on Morningside Heights, has been given in charge 
of this sculptor. It is the chance of his life, and he will 
undoubtedly produce some very beautiful and conscientious 
work. 




Sculpture on the Morgan 
Tomb.— St. Gaudens. 



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766 Ecclesiastical Sculpture in America, [Sept., 

Philip Martiny, our leading decorative sculptor, has modelled 
an " Annunciation " which is fascinating as a composition, but 
too animated in treatment and rather superficial in conception. 
He followed his natural vein of feeling, and the decorative 




A Panel in the Church of the Paulists. — Schwarzott. 

sculptor is apt to regard the lines of the human form merely 
as something ornamental instead of using them as means of 
spiritual expression. 

Serious studies of Biblical characters are rather scarce in this 
country. Only now and then we discover one on some public 
building, as for instance the St. Paul of John Donoghue on 
the Congressional Library, the Moses by William Couper on 
the Appellate Court Building, New York, and the twelve 
prophets by Samuel Murray on the Presbyterian Building, 
Philadelphia. 

Busts are more frequent. More than a dozen of our sculp- 
tors, among them Mr. Max Bachmann and John Gelert, have 
modelled the head of our Saviour. Ordway Partridge has made 
a marble bust of Mary Magdalen, and Charles R. Harley, a 
young sculptor recently returned from Paris, has interpreted 
" Our Mother of . Sorrows *' in a novel and truly poetical 
manner. 



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1903.] Ecclesiastical Sculpture in America, 767 

The work of these artists, some of which is reproduced 
here, really speaks for itself. It is thoughtful, it is sincere, and 
it is refreshingly free from taint of convention. They are mtn 
who work with the aim of the true artist constantly in view. 
They realize what is so generally forgotten in church decora- 
tion, that no true work of art can ever be achieved save by 
real personal, individual effort. 

It is the secret of the true artist's success, it is also the 
secret of the failure of commercialism, in art at least. 



/^"[ n 1^"^ 



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Adoring Angels. — St. Gaudens. 



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768 57: FRANCIS OF ASSISI, | St- pt.. 




ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI. POET AND LOVER OF NATURE. 

BY FRANCIS D. NEW. A.M. 

" V'ery various are the sains, and their very variety a token of God's workmanship." — 
Cardinal Newman. 

JHE Little Poor Man of Assisi, the Poverello, as 
the Italians call him, is not always understood. 
'* He is often thought of by those who do 
know him as a simple person of a sweet and 
kindly character, very extravagant, somewhat 
foolish, often grotesque, a wild, childish man, who could not 
speak or write, but only loved"; or as ** a sweet, childlike, 
almost childish soul, with no aims and no insight, but cer- 
tainly doing good, because goodness was in him." 

Such estimates are entirely erroneous. On the contrary, St. 
Francis possessed an original and well-balanced mind, extraor- 
dinary common sense, an iron will, and indomitable courage ; 
and these qualities go to make a forceful character. There was 
"method in his madness." **The work done by St. Francis," 
says a Protestant writer, "was one of the greatest done among 
men, and in him, as in a vas electionis, God had stored rich 
gifts to carry out so arduous an undertaking." " He revolu- 
tionized his age ; he saved Western Christianity ; he impressed 
his contemporaries in a manner seldom if ever done before or 
since. He was a statesman and .born ruler of the highest 
kind." 

But it is not of the Poverello as saint or founder or minis- 
ter-general of his order that I would speak. St. Francis is 
called a poet, not so much, perhaps, on account of the poetry 
that he has written, — for though of a high order, the amount 
is very small, — but because he possessed in an extraordinary 
degree the poetic temperament. He had •* distinct and strik- 
ing sources of poetry in him." "an instinct for poetry." 

The p >etry in the soul of St Francis breaks forth in his 
daily life; in his conversation; in the terms he used towards 
the brethren : Brother Leo, his confessor, a timid, scrupulous 
s>ul, he called "Gjd's little Lamb" — Pecorello di Dio; Brother 



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1903.] Poet and Lover of Nature. 769 

Juniper he named "the Plaything of Jesus Christ"; Brother 
Egidio, " one of the paladins of my Round Table " ; lepers he 
called "the patients of God"; himself, "the Lord's Lark," 
alauda Domini; the brethren, joculatores Domini, tht Lord's 
jugglers. "Is it not in fact true," he would say, "that the 
servants bf God are really like jugglers, intended to revive the 
hearts of men, and to lead them into spiritual joy ? " 

The springs of poetry in the soul of St. Francis were con- 
stantly welling forth from his lips. He was imbued with the 
spirit of his age, which was one of chivalry and poetry; he 
had caught the spirit of the troubadours, the jongleurs of 
France. The French language had a great influence on his 
life. He thrilled to the melody of its poetry. His whole life 
was a poem abounding in the most poetic and picturesque in- 
cidents. The poetical spirit in him gave him a perpetual reve- 
lation of God. 

It is not difficult to discern the poet in the following 
stories: Inaocent HI. was hesitating to give his approbation to 
the rule of the new order. In his anxiety Francis sought the 
Pope and laid before him this parable, which he had composed 
while at prayer : " There was in the desert a maiden who was 
very poor, but beautiful. A great king saw her, and charmed 
by her grace, he married her. For some years he lived with 
her, and they had children of singular beauty. The mother 
brought up these children 'with great care, and when they were 
grown, she said: * Dear children, do not blush at being poor; 
you are the sons of a king ; go to your father and he will 
give you all you want' So the children came to court, and 
the king recognizing in them his own features, said: 'Whose 
sons are you ? ' And when they answered : * We are the sons 
of the poor woman who lives in the wilderness,* the king joy- 
fully embraced them and said : * Be not afraid ; you are my 
children. If strangers live at my table, how much more shall 
I not care for my sons ? ' This king is the King of Kings, 
and, thanks to his goodness, I am the poor woman of whom 
God has been pleased to have lawful sons. The King of 
Kings has told me that he will provide for all the sons which 
he may have of me, for if he sustains bastards, how much 
more his legitimate sons ? " 

The poet triumphed over Innocent's objections. Dante has 
sung of this scene. 



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770 57-. FRANCIS OF ASSIST, [Sept., 

Francis* idealization of poverty is another effluence of his 
poetical soul. He regarded poverty not merely as a virtue, 
and a great virtue taught by Christ, but his idea of it was 
most "tender and poetical.'* As a young man Francis had 
desired to become a knight, for he loved chivalry. Now, one 
of the chief features of chivalry was devotion to women ; and 
every knight selected one who was to be his lady. He wore 
her colors, lived in her presence, and to her in time of war 
looked for inspiration, help, and success. It was thus that St. 
Francis regarded Poverty. She was his lady, and he gave her 
all the graces that the troubadours gave to the ladies of whcm 
they sang. To him she was a queen. Her association with 
our Lord and the Blessed Virgin had given her, in his eyes, 
this honor ; and the fact that she was a deposed queen, un- 
justly held in contempt, only increased his regard for her. 
This was not mere poetry ; religion, loving, passionate religion, 
lay beneath it, as the iollowing prayer, often used by St. 
Francis, shows: 

** O Lord, have pity upon me and upon my Lady Poverty. 
Behold, she is seated on a dunghill, she who is the queen of 
virtues ; she complains that her friends have despised her, and 
are become her enemies. Remember, O Lord, that Thou didst 
come from the abode of angels to take her as a spouse, and 
to have by her great numbers of children who should be per- 
fect. It was she who received Thee in* the stable and the 
manger, accompanied Thee through life, and took care that 
Thou hadst not where to lay Thy head. When Thou wert 
about to begin the warfare of our redemption, Poverty attached 
herself to Thee like a faithful squire; she kept beside Thee 
during the combat, nor retreated when others fled. Finally 
when Thy Mother, who indeed followed Thee to the end, . . . 
yet by reason of the height of the cross could not reach Thee, 
at that moment Poverty embraced Thee more closely than ever. 
She would not let Thy cross be carefully prepared, or the 
nails be sufficient in number, or sharp and polished; she pro- 
vided but three and made them hard and rough. . . . And 
when Thou wert dying of thirst, she took care that even a 
drop of water should be refused Thee, so that it was in the 
embrace of that spouse that Thou gavest up Thy spirit. Oh 
who, therefore, would not love my Lady Poverty above ^1 
things ? " 



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I903-] POET AND LOVER OF NATURE. 771 

Whenever, as in this prayer, Francis thought of Poverty 
''as the spouse, or, in Dante's words, the desolate widow of 
Jesus Christ, his love was tempered, by veneration, and he 
called her his mother, or his lady." At other times, St. Bona- 
venture tells us, his feeling was more tender, and he called 
her his bride. It was as such that he looked upon her in his 
first . dreams of the future, and as time went on he became 
more and more tender towards her, till finally he. was so 
ravished by her beauty that his soul became one with her ; 
and we are told that there was " no moment in his life in 
which he did not feel himself her bridegroom." And as a 
veritable bridegroom, he showed her every attention, and de- 
lighted to be in her presence. Dante says: 

" Their concord and their joyous semblances, 
The love, the wonder, and the sweet regard. 
They made to be the cause of holy thoughts." 

" He avoided," we are told, ** everything that could shock 
her." When invited to table of the great, ** that he might not 
be unfaithful to her even for a moment," he always took with 
him bread which he had begged, and which he called the bread 
of angels. It pleased him to praise his Lady Poverty, speaking 
sometimes of her rich dowry. ** It is not," he would say, 
speaking in the language of the age, " a movable and revocable 
fief; it is a permanent heritage, a kingdom." At times he 
composed verses to her, and when saying his breviary, he sang 
the psalms referring to her with great fervor. For this reason 
the 9th psalm, " Confitebor tibi," and the 69th, *' Salvum me 
fac, Deus," are said to have been particularly dear to him. 
He was even jealous of his lady — he who was never known to 
be jealous of any one. One day he happened to meet a poor 
beggar clothed in rags. Immediately Francis began to think 
this man a greater favorite than he. " That man troubles and 
confounds me," said he. " Why so ? " replied his companion. 
** What," he answered, ** have we not publicly embraced 
Poverty ? Throughout the land she is known to be our lady ; 
now, behold how much more she shines and shows herself in 
him than in us." And " tears were in his voice," we are told, 
as he pronounced these words. 

We should be wrong if we were to see in this only im- 



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772 57: Francis of Assisi, [Sept., 

agination. " In the Middle Ages a vein of poetry, provided 
the idea it contained was a high one, did not in the least 
detract from the sincerity, or even from the austerity of a man's 
sentiments." 

We find proof of this assertion in the Following of Christ. 
And it was eminently so with St. Francis. The marriage of 
St. Francis with the Lady Poverty .has been celebrated by 
poetry, eloquence, and art ; by Dante, Bossuet, and Giotto. 
Dante sings: 

" Between Tupino and the river which flows from the hill 
chosen by the blessed Ubaldo, a fertile slope descends from a 
high mountain. 

** At the point where this side slopes more gently was born 
into the world a sun like that which rises from the Ganges. 

** And let those who wish to speak of this place call it not 
Assisi, for that name does not say enough; but it should be 
called the Orient. 

"When quite young he resisted his father for the love of 
this woman to whom, as to death, no man opens his door with 
pleasure. 

"And before the spiritual court, and before his father, he 
united himself to her, and henceforth from that day he loved 
her more ardently. 

" She a widow for a thousand years or more, neglected and 
obscure, had waited for him without being sought for by any 
one. 

" But that I may not continue with too much mystery, 
Francis and Poverty are the two lovers whom we must recog- 
nize under my diff^use words." 

Bossuet thus continues the chant of Dante: "This little 
Infant of Bethlehem, it is thus that Francis calls my Master, 
. . . who being so rich, made himself poor for the love 
of us ; . . . this King who, coming into the world, finds no 
garment more worthy of his grandeur than that of poverty; it 
is that which touches Francis' soul. * My dear Poverty,* he 
says, ' however low in the judgment of men may be thy ex- 
traction, I esteem thee, since my Master has espoused thee.' 
And he was right, Christians; if a king weds a girl of low ex- 



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1903] Poet and Lover of Nature. 771 

traction, she becomes queen; . . . she is ennobled by her 
marriage with the prince ; her nobility passes to her house ; 
her relations are usually called to the richest offices; and her 
children are the heirs of the kingdom." 

Let us now take a look at Giotto's beautiful fresco of the 
marriage of St. Francis and the Lady Poverty. "Who can 
recount all the wonders of this sublime composition ? The 
Christ stands there with that calm radiance which illuminated 
his divine face during the last forty days of his life on earth; 
he presents to the humble Francis the hand of a young girl, 
and Francis puts on her finger the nuptial ring, pledge of an 
eternal union. This beautiful bride is crowned with roses and 
with light ; her eyes are mild and her mouth smiling ; but her 
countenance is emaciated, and her clothing in rags ; her feet 
are torn and bloody. She walks among thorns and upon sharp 
stones. ... A dog barks at her, and the children of the 
world abuse her; they hurl stones at her, and overwhelm her 
with maledictions and blows. . . . But the choirs of angels 
bound with joy, and are in profound adoration before this 
mysterious union. An angel of justice chases away the avari- 
cious and those degenerate monks who caress with complacency 
sacks of gold. . . ." 

Merely to name the painters who have been inspired by St. 
Francis would take too long. The same may be said of the 
poets. Dante owes much to him. Those charming prose poems, 
** The Little Flowers of St. Francis," the language of which is 
so " incomparably beautiful because so incomparably simple," 
are the effect of his spirit. 

But St. Francis had not only an " instinct for poetry " ; nor 
was he merely an inspiration to others ; he wrote poetry. Of 
his " Canticle of the Sun," or " Song of the Creatures," Renan 
says that it is the most perfect utterance of modern religious 
sentiment. It recalls David when he sang: 

" Praise the Lord from the earth, ye dragons and all ye deeps. 
Fire, hail, snow, ice, stormy winds, which fulfil his word. 
Mountains and all hills, fruitful trees and all cedars. 
Beasts and all cattle, serpents and feathered fowls " ; 

or the children in the fiery furnace : 

" O ye stars of heaven, bless the Lord, praise and exalt him 



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774 St. Francis of Assist, [Sept., 

above all for ever. O every shower and dew, bless ye the 
Lord." 

"It is at the same time," says the Abbd le Monier, "a 
hymn of creation, a song of thanksgiving to the Creator, 
and a canticle of adoration offered for and with all creatures. 
Modern religious poetry has never produced anything com- 
parable to it in this particular order of ideas." " In it we feel 
the breath of that Umbrian .terrestrial paradise," says Ozanam, 
" where the sky is so brilliant and the earth so laden with 
flowers." 

The following translation is the one given by Mrs. Oliphant 
in her Life of St. Francis, in nearly as possible an exact re- 
production of the broken rhymes and faltering measures of the 
" Cantico del Sole " : 

" Highest omnipotent good Lord, . 
Glory and honor to thy name adored. 
And praise and every blessing. 
Of everything Thou art the source. 
No man is worthy to pronounce Thy name. 

" Praised by His creatures all. 
Praised be the Lord my God, 
By Messer Sun, my brother above all. 
Who by his rays lights us and lights the day — 
Radiant is she, with his great splendor stored. 
Thy glory, Lord, confessing. 

*' By Sister Moon and stars my Lord is praised. 
Where clear and fair they in the heavens are raised. 

" By Brother Wind, my Lord, Thy praise is said. 
By air and clouds and the blue sky o*erhead. 
By which Thy creatures all are kept and fed. 

** By one mDst humble, useful, precious, chaste, 
By Sister Water, O my Lord, Thou art praised. 

" And praised is my Lord 
By Brother Fire — he who lights up the night; 
Jocund, robust is he; and strong and bright. 



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1903.] POET AND LOVER OF NATURE. 77$ 

"Praised art Thou, my Lord, by Mother Earth — 
Thou who sustainest her, and governest, 
And to her flowers, fruit, herbs, dost color give and birth. 

" And praised be my Lord 

By those who, for thy love, can pardon give, 
' And bear the weakness and the wrongs of men. 
Blessed are those who suffer thus in peace, 
By Thee, the Highest to be crowned in heaven. 

"Praised by our Sister Death, my Lord, art Thou, 
From whom no living man escapes. 
Who die in mortal sin have mortal woe; 
But blessed they who die doing Thy will; 
The second death can strike at them no blow. 

" Praises and thanks, and blessing to my Master be ; 
Serve ye Him all with great humility." 

It Will be noticed that at the eighth strophe there is an in- 
terruption. The last strophes were not in the original draft, 
being added later. The eighth was suggested by a quarrel that 
arose between the bishop and the magistrates of Assisi. " Go," 
said St. Francis, " sing my * Song of the Creatures ' to them, 
with its new verse." The result was that the adversaries shook 
hands and became friends. 

Of the original Italian, Ozanam says : " Its language has 
all the simplicity of a nascent idiom, the rhythm all the inex- 
perience of unstudied poetry that easily satisfies unlearned 
hearers. The rhythm is sometimes replaced by assonance, 
sometimes it only appears in the middle or at the end of the 
verse. Critics will hardly find in it the regular conditions of a. 
lyrical composition." 

There is another poem attributed to St. Francis, which is 
quite different in construction. This work has ten strophes of 
seven verses each, with a regular number of feet, and rhymes 
generally correct. It is a skilful piece of work, and may be 
the improvisation of St. Francis worked over by the hand of 
a disciple. But we find in it " all the boldness of the genius 
of St. Francis, all the precision of his language." It was 
probably written after he had received the stigmata, "in the 



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776 St. Francis' OF ASSIST, [Sept., 

fire of divine ravishments," as Ozanam thinks. The following 
lines are but a portion of the poem. Of course much is lost 
in the translation: 

" Love sets my heart on fire, 
Love of my Bridegroom new; 
Love's lamb my thoughts inspire. 
As on the ring he drew. 
Then in a prison dire. 
Sore wounded, he me threw : 
My heart breaks with desire. 

Love sets my heart on fire. 

" My heart is cleft in twain ; 
On earth my body lies. 
The arrow of this pain 
From Love's own crossbow flies. 
Piercing my heart in twain. 
Of sweetness my soul dies, 
For peace comes war again. 

Love sets my heart on fire. 

" I die of sweetest woe ; 
Wonder not at my fate: 
The lance which gives the blow 
Is love immaculate. 
A hundred arm's-length, know, 
So long and wide the blade, 
Has pierced me at a blow. 

Love sets my heart on fire. 

" When thus with Christ I (ought. 
Peace made we after ire; 
For first from Him was brought 
Dear love's veracious fire; 
And love of Christ has wrought 
Such strength I cannot tire: 
He dwells in soul and thought. 

Love sets my heart on fire." 

What passed between God and Francis on the Verna, says 
Ozanam, could not certainly be expressed in the language of 



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1903.] Poet and Lover of Nature. 777 

man. But when the saint, descending from this new Sinai, 
permitted his transports to break forth into song, it must not 
surprise us to find here the habitual cast of his mind, and the 
rich colors of his imagination. We recognize the adventurous 
young mm who renounced the services of Walter of Brienne 
to become the knight- errant of divine love. 

There is yet another and much longer canticle — 3-62 lines — 
attributed to St. Francis. This poem, in its present form, may 
also have been retouched by some one else. It has even been 
attributed to another, Jacopone da Todi. Ozanam does not 
find in it the brevity and simplicity of the Little Poor Man. 
The Mad Penitent of Todi, he thinks, may have paraphrased 
a simple and grand theme borrowed from some old canticle of 
St. Francis. Other critics think its versification too learned to 
be the construction of the saint. The following lines are but 
a portion : 

** O Love, for charity, why hast thou so wounded me? 
My heart is cleft in two, it burns with love. 

" It burns and flames, it finds no shelter; it cannot fly, for 
it is bound. 

*' It melts like wax before the fire ; living it dies, and lan- 
guishes all day. 

''It asks to fly, a moment only, and finds itself within a 
furnace. 

"Ah, whither am I dragged to such great anguish? To 
live like this is death, the heat is so intense. 

"Let no one blame me now, if love like this has made me 
mad. There is no heart that could defend itself or fly when 
taken by such love. 

"Each one may wonder how a heart can suffer in such fire 
and not break. Would I could find a soul to understand me. 
One that had pity on my anguished heart." 

These later hymns exhibit the contemplative aspect of St. 
Francis' character. "It is not," says Mrs. Oliphant, "that 
love which inspired his whole genial, energetic, human life to 
good works and the service of his fellow- creatures — that which 
made him so open to every sympathy, the friend of all created 
things; but rather the mystic supernatural rapture in which 
his life, or at least his history, culminates. It is that love of 
God which, like a divine fire, consumes the melting, rending, 



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778 57: Francis of Assisi, [Sept., 

dying, yet enraptured soul ; which swallows up every other 
sentiment, and absorbs the worshipper in the very being of the 
Divinity whom he adores. Flesh and blood cannot long sup- 
port that ecstasy of revelation. The body becomes as nothing 
in the flood of sacred light, in the glow and heat of a love 
which is beyond any mortal passion." 

Assuming these three poems to be the work of the Pover^ 
ello, we may be tempted to think so brief a work — about five 
hundred lines — hardly commensurate with his long preparation. 
But we must remember that St. Francis was in the eighteenth 
year of his conversion when he began to write verse ; and he 
lived only two years longer, abandoned to ravishments of soul 
and sufferings of body that could have no expression in human 
language. With poets and with saints we must attribute to 
them not only what they actually wrote or did themselves, but 
what they inspired. The poetical mission of St. Francis had 
more splendor than ever after his death. Poets and painters 
without number have been inspired by the life of the Little 
Poor Man. 

But it is as lover of Nature that the Poverello stands pre- 
eminent. '' He had caught the spirit of Him who directed at- 
tention to the ravens circling to their nest, and to the lilies in 
their beauty closing to their sleep.'' His highly sensitive na- 
ture was keenly alive to all the beauty about him : sea and 
sky, rain and wind, the sun and the moon, the stars, flowers, 
birds, beasts, rushing waters, limpid streams, rocks and pine 
woods, chestnut and olive groves ; the sparkling spring flowers 
of Italy and the glorious colors of its vintage, thrilled him 
through and through with a sense of never-ending pleasure, as 
St. Bonaventure tells us. 

" He enjoyed," says Canon Knox-Little, '* the beautiful Um- 
brian autumn, and his pleasure in the calmness and loveliness 
of the country round him deepened his love for God. He was 
never tired of trying to instil into his brethren the same feelings, 
inducing them to look upon the whole created universe as a 
glorious book upon which God*s name was written," The author 
of the Imitation has said : '* If thy heart were right, then every 
creature would be to thee a mirror of life, and a book of holy 
doctrine. There is not a creature so small and vile which does 
not show forth the goodness of God." 

Francis saw God everywhere in nature; under all her as- 



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1903.] Poet and Lover Of Nature. 779 

pects he saw some message and work of God. The saint re- 
joices in all the works of the Lord ; by them he mounts up to 
Him who gives life, movement, and being to all things. In 
that which is beautiful here below he sees beauty itself. Says 
Father Tabb in his three-line poem called " God " : 

" I see Thee in the distant blue ; 
But in the violet's dell of dew, 
Behold, I breathe and touch Thee too." 

The pagans, plunged in the sensuality of materialism, did 
not understand nature. Amid Jewish rudeness, however, we 
find some delicate prescriptions in her favor. Nourished upon 
the Old Law, the prophets and patriarchs loved nature with 
transport. Job sang her wondecs, David in the joys and sor- 
rows of his life loved her as a sister, a mother, a spouse.* 
When the Spirit came to replace the Letter, the love of nature 
increased in the hearts of holy men. 

There is a beautiful story of Gioacchino di Fiore — a precur- 
sor, so to speak, of St. Francis — that must find place here. 
One day as this man, who had a great feeling for nature, was 
preaching, the sky became overcast with clouds and the church 
was plunged in darkness. Then the sun suddenly shone forth 
and fiooded the church with light. Gioacchino paused, saluted 
the sun, intoned the " Veni Creator," and led the congregation 
out to gaze upon the landscape. 

But among the saints there is none who loved nature so 
ardently as the Little Poor Man of Assisi ; he loved, after God, 
men ; after men, nature. There was nothing puerile in this 
love of St. Francis for nature. He considered, St. Bonaventurc 
tells us, all creatures as coming from the bosom of the Divinity, 
and recognized that they all have the same origin and principle 
as he himself. 

Above all other animals, St. Francis loved birds. In the 
Louvre there is a picture by Giotto of the saint preaching to 
the birds. One day, as he drew near to Bevagna, he saw a 
great number of birds. They attracted his attention. Telling 
his companions to remain where they were, he advanced alone 
towards the birds. They showed no fear. Seeing them so tame, 
he saluted them, and began to preach to them. Every one is 

• See Psalms 103 and 148. ' 

VOL. LXXVII.— 50 

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78o St. Francis of Ass/si, [Sept, 

familiar with the serniDn, at least with Longfellow's poetical 
rendering of it. At the end he made the sign of the cross over 
them, and blessed fhem ; then they all took flight together, 
going in the form of a cross, north, south, east, and west. 

We may smile at this simplicity, but we must remember 
that St. Francis was simple by grace, not by nature, as Thomas 
of Celano tells us. " Are we sure that the truest wisdom and 
the most perfect holiness are not hidden in this story ? " " If 
a man," says the Abbe le Monier, " has been associated with 
the Divine royalty, this royalty cannot but exercise itself by 
such manifestations of tenderness and heavenly peace shed from 
his heart upon even the humblest creatures." 

St. Francis never forgot this day ; he ever loved to speak 
of it. Among the birds he had a special predilection for doves. 
We read in the Fioretti that one day as he was going to Siena 
he met a youth with some turtle-doves for sale. " O good 
young man," said the saint, '^ these are innocent birds that are 
compared in Scripture to chaste and faithful souls. I pray you 
not to give them over to those who will kill them, but give 
them to me." Fondling them he said: "O my sisters the tur- 
tle-doves, so simple, innocent, and chaste, why did you let 
yourselves be caught? Now I will save you from death, and 
make nests for you that you may bring up your young, and 
multiply according to the commandment of our Creator." " O 
simplex pietaSy O pia simplicitaSy^ exclaims Celano. Larks also 
he loved with a special fondness. He used to call himself " the 
Lord's lark " ; and when he was dying, although it was even- 
ing, these birds of dawn, as St. Bonaventure calls them, came 
and alighted on the roof of his convent and sang joyously. 

Among four-footed creatures, sheep, and in particular lambs, 
were the objects of his special affection. Crossing the March 
of Ancona one day, he saw a man carrying two lambs with 
their feet tied and slung over his shoulder. Francis was 
touched to the heart at this representation of Christ bound and 
hanging on the cross. He uttered a cry and went up quickly, 
and began stroking the poor animals, almost as a mother might 
comfort a weeping child. " Why," said he to the man, *• do 
you crucify my brothers the lambs, binding them, and hanging 
them in that way ? Take my cloak and give me your lambs." 

One day at Grecchio they brought to Francis a leveret 
that had been caught in a trap. *' Come to me, brother leveret," 



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1903.] Poet and Lover of Nature. 781 

he said. And the poor creature ran to him for protection. 
Taking it up, he caressed it, and finally put it on the ground; 
but it would not accept its liberty, and returned to him again 
and again. 

On another occasion, when he was crossing the lake at 
Rieti, a boatman gave him a large tench. Francis accepted 
the fish joyfully, but to the astonishment of the fisherman, 
put it back into the water, bidding it bless God. He would 
not kill the worms that he found in his path. He carried them 
carefully to the side of the road lest they should be crushed. 
Had not Christ said of himself : ** I am a worm and no man ** ? 
That was enough for Francis. 

One of the most touching episodes in the life of St. Fran- 
cis is his farewell to the creatures as he descended the Verna, 
after receiving the stigmata. I quote Sabatier: "They set out 
early in the morning. Francis, after having given his direc- 
tions to the brothers, had a look and a word for everything 
around; for the rocks and flowers, the trees, for brother hawk, 
a privileged character which was authorized to enter his cell 
at all times, and which came every morning, with the first 
glimmer of dawn, to remind him of the hour of service. 

''Then the little band set forth upon the path leading to 
Monte-Acuto. Arrived at the gap from whence one gets the 
last sight of the Verna, Francis alighted from his horse, and 
kneeling upon the earth, his face turned toward the mountain, 
' Adieu,' he said, ' mountain of God, sacred mountain, mons 
coagulatus^ mons pinguis^ mons in quo bene placitum est Deo 
habitare ; adieu, Monte Verna; may God bless thee, the Father, 
the Son, and the Holy Spirit; abide in peace; we shall never 
see one another more.' 

" Has not this artless scene a delicious and poignant sweet- 
ness ? He must surely have uttered these words, in which 
suddenly the Italian does not suffice and Francis is obliged to 
resort to the mystical language of the breviary to express his 
feelings." 

I should never have done if I were to relate all the stories 
of this kind told of St. Francis. But I must not omit mention 
of his love for the plant creation. "This perfect lover of 
poverty," says Sabatier, ** permitted one luxury — be even com- 
manded it at Portiuncula — that of flowers." "The border of 
the great garden was sown by his orders with grass sprinkled 



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782 



ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISL 



[Sept. 



with daisies. A little garden was made within the great one 
for bright-colored, sweet- smelling flowers. The grass was to 
remind the brethren of the beauty of the Father of the world ; 
the flowers were to give them a foretaste of the eternal sweet- 
ness of heaven." " This affection," says Le Monier, '• was at 
first only a good instinct due to a fine and delicate organiza- 
tion. As a child his face ' used to light up at the sight of 
flowers; he delighted to inhale their perfume. As a young 
man he was most sensible to the beauty of the world. A fine 
view, luxuriant vegetation, the play of light and shade, the 
unceasing movement and flow of water, all such things he 
appreciated and loved. In later years, and when far advanced 
in the way of holiness, he did not change in this respect. 
Nature was to him always a friend. He not only felt no fear 
of her, he regarded intimacy with her as beneficial. He found 
in her a support for his piety." Coleridge has said wisely : 

" He prayeth best who loveth best 
All things, both great and small ; 
For the dear God who loveth us 
He made and loveth all." 

Thus we see " how St. Francis* love extended to all crea- 
tion. . . . From the sun to the earthworm which we trample 
under foot everything breathed in his ear the ineffable sigh of 
beings that live and suffer and die, and in their life as in 
their death have a part in the divine work." 




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S^^^^K,! 






B 


ll 







A Native Hut and Christian Family. 



A NARRATIVE OF THE MISSIONS ON THE CONGO. 



BY J. B. TUGMAN. 




JN the year 1882, when all the plans for founding 
what is to-day known as the Free State of the 
Congo had been completed, a military expedition 
was formed to enter upon the work of establish- 
ing some form of government for the civilization 
and control of the natives within its domain. At that time I 
was singularly fortunate in obtaining a commission at Brussels, 
and, after completing all the requisite formalities, received final 
orders to report for duty to the chief of Vi Vi Station on 
the banks of the Congo River, ninety miles from the sea coast. 
Without going into any elaborate description of the policy 
that was to be maintained, or the duties that were to fall to 
the lot of each one, it will be sufficient to say that our main 
purpose was to spread the influence of modern civilization 
among the natives who. were so far removed from its influence, 
and gather such data as may be valuable. 

Having been educated a Protestant, and from an early age 



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784 A Narrative of the Missions on the Congo, [Sept., 

made to learn the duties that belonged to all who professed to 
call themselves Christian members of the established Church of 
England, my antipathy for the Catholic Church was well defined 
and deeply rooted. It will not be necessary to dwell upon the 
nature of these prejudices, for they are too well known to 
every Catholic of the present day; let me but say that they 
were heartily in accord with those of the bitterest enemies of 
the church, and had for their authority such authors as Eugene 
Sue and many other avowed enemies of the church, all of whom 
appeared to furnish ample evidence for the deep craftiness and 
the ample justification for our bitterest and most malignant an- 
tagonism to its influence and teachings. A Catholic was to be 
abhorred and under all circumstances to be shunned ; we 
'recognized in him one who was subjected to the worst and 
most dangerous principles, all of which emanated from the 
priests, and we were taught that these men, so far from being 
ministers of the Gospel, were but the agents of the Devil, and 
at all times were prepared to entrap their victims in the most 
cruel and outrageous slavery. 

From my earliest years our religious training was all that 
good Protestants could give their children, and if only I could 
feel that justice had been done in matters appertaining to 
Catholic teachings and doctrine, I should be impelled to say 
that our training was ideal in itself. We were, by the example 
set by our parents, taught to love and fear God, and to respect 
all the teachings set forth in our catechism, and to learn those 
prayers that had their origin in the Catholic Church. Thus it 
was not unnatural that the impression made should have been 
to awaken a great love for the Anglican Church, and corre- 
sponding hatred for all that was opposed to its teachings, 
especially the Catholic Church itself, whose priests to my mind 
were a crafty and voluptuous set of *' bon vivants '* living upon 
the credulity of the ignorant, and ever ready to take all the 
advantages they could in any way. 

For five years I was attached to the choir of one of the 
London churches, and in the capacity of secretary and in charge 
of the sanctuary learned considerable regarding church affairs, 
while at times I was permitted to read the two lessons at the 
morning and evening service as well ^s to serve at the office 
of Communion and at the other services, such as baptisms, 
marriages, reading the responses, and in general waiting upon 



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1903.] A NARRATIVE OF THE MISSIONS ON THE CONGO, 785 

the minister. Upon one Pentecost Sunday I remember assist- 
ing at the baptism of over two hundred children and adults, 
an occasion that was a red-letter day with us. Thus I had 
often occasion to hear from some newly returned missionary the 
full and glowing account of the efforts and hardships that these 




Mission Boys in the Congo Militja. 

men encountered in the performance of their duty, and felt 
considerably aroused, upon one occasion even so far as to volun- 
teer my services to one of the well-known societies engaged 
in the. work in Catholic countries. However, when the time 
came, I reconsidered my offer and withdrew. But the desire 
-was always there to learn something about the missionaries and 
to see how matters stood, for with all the glowing accounts 
there were always some criticisms that did not reflect any too 
great credit upon the work or even the workers. 

With my African appointment I was going to enter upon an 
experience that would throw light upon this matter, and I 
should doubtless have an opportunity to see just how matters 
stood and how the collections to which I had so often con- 
tributed were expended. 

Having completed all my arrangements and bidden the fair 
one good- by, I started for L verpool, where I was to join the 



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786 A Narrative of the Missions on the Congo. [Sept., 

steamer that was to convey me to Banana, where the tender 
would take me to my destination. 

Our voyage, under other circumstances than those which 
, confronted us, could have been accomplished in about three 
weeks; but as the steamer was scheduled to distribute cargo 
all along the coast at the numerous small sea- ports, from the 
River Gambia as far down as St. Paul de Loanda, at all of 
which we stopped from three hours to three days, our journey's 
end was not reached before we had spent six weeks on ship- 
board. 

We left L'verpDol with remarkably fair weather, laden 
to our full capacity with a general cargo, the main bulk of 
which consisted of case gin, Hamburg trading rum in demi- 
johns, and a considerable quantity of other merchandise, for 
the barter trade, with a supply of two hundred tons of trade 
gunpowder in our forepeak. 

Our passengers, all male, were made up of three typical 
West Coast traders, returning after a visit home ; some half 
dozen assistants returning likewise, with others going out for 
the first time as clerks in the trading stations at sundry points 
along the coast ; two Baptist missionaries, a young Swedish 
lieutenant, and myself, both destined for the service of the 
Royal Congo Expedition. 

The first days of our voyage were taken up with forming 
the acquaintance of each other, and incidentally for those 
. who were for the first time entering upon African life, gather- 
ing " pointers *' regarding all things peculiar to the African 
climate .and mode of life. 

I will not enter upon any description of our passengers, 
whose vocations were those of traders and assistants, for there 
was nothing that in any way distinguished them from the 
average commercial man of the day; therefore let me pass 
them over, and dwell upon what most concerns my narrative, 
and present to you my two missionary friends of the Baptist 
profession. 

These two young men, both quiet and unassuming in their 
way, represented that type of inexperienced youth going 
abroad for the first time, deeply interested in all that took 
place and in all that concerned our future life. Their educa- 
tion, nothing above the ordinary grammar school, enabled me 
to form no idea of any particular training that they may have 



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1903.] A Narrative of the Missions on the Congo. 787 



fr*j3^P^i If L^j_^^-L.^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^P^^B^^^^^»' 


^ 


^^^^^^^^^^^ 










- „^ 



The Elephant Harnessed to the Mission Carriage. 



had which was to fit them for their particular calling. Though 
versed in Scriptural knowledge,- they did not appear to pos- 
sess any extraordinary qualities in this regard, nor was there 
anything in their conduct or bearing* that would lead one to 
judge them capable of commanding any extra amount of respect. 
They had an ordinary religious training, and perhaps the only 
characteristic that distinguished them from the number of reckless 
and indifferent youth that were, for the time being, their com- 
panions, was they attached more value to their religious belief 
and conduct than any one else on board, and took upon them- 
selves the solemnity of religious airs as a contrast to the in- 
difference of every one else. 

Like all of us, these young men had been engaged for a 
consideration to perform certain duties, which consisted of 
teaching the poor savages. They presented no evidence of 
being compelled to undergo privations, or any sacrifice other 
than that which separated them from their friends and rela- 
tions for an uncertainty no greater than our own. Their ties, 
like those of every one on board, were as strong and as bind- 
ing, and their hearts were none the less captivated than ours, 



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788 A Narrative of the Missions on the Congo, [Sept., 

who were leaving the darling sweetheart at home, wife, mother, 
or dear sisters and brothers, to enter upon undertakings that 
at best were to be uncertain and hazardous. 

Similar to each one of us they had their ideas of a reward that 
in no way differed from my own. If they had a sweetheart, 
so had I ; and as their aim was to make a future for her, no 
less an incentive actuated me. They were to receive so much 
per month; in this they resembled every one else. They were 
going to obtain all the pleasure and enjoyment out of life that 
was in it, and signalize themselves to the world as members of 
a religious band, whose aim was to raise the standard of intel- 
lectuality among the savages by initiating ihem in the art of 
reading and writing, and thus enable them to derive pleasure 
and edification from the Scriptures. There was no evidence of 
any special training, no particular fitness or apparent capability 




First Lessons in Cooking. 



to cope with what might be out of the ordinary. Their ideas 
were that they were merely going to teach the ignorant, but 
they possessed no notions of the different characteristics that 
they were going to meet with. Never having left their own 



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1903.] A Narrative of the Missions on the Congo. 789 

homes, and from what they stated, never having been away 
longer from home than a school term, they knew nothing of 
the world, and consequently were wholly incapable of realizing 
any other state of • affairs than those they had read about. 




Habits of Industry are inculcated among the Children. 



They were tender-hearted and full of that enthusiasm that 
so singularly characterizes the man who stands upon the corner 
of tt\e street calling sinners to repentance, and affords others 
the benefit of his particular interpretation of the various pas- 
sages of Scripture. They recalled to my mind the colporteurs 
of the British and Foreign Bible Society, that I remember so 
well in my young days, whom I met in Portugal, and who 
under my father's instruction were entrusted to sell Bibles to 
the poor, superstitious, so called Catholics. These men were 
supposed to sell Bibles, and of course in order to do so had 
to explain the value of these precious articles, and, like the 
** fakir," play upon the curiosity of their audience, in order to 
obtain results. What were the results? Why simply that the 
pages were torn out and used as wrappers for every kind of 
article. But this did not deter the sale of Bibles nor dampen 
the ardor of the home society, which had to render an ac-' 



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790 A Narrative of the Missions on the Congo. [Sept., 

counting for the amounts expended in spreading the word of 
God. However, nothing was said of the use these Bibles were 
put to, in the reports ; all that was dwelt upon was the eager- 
ness with which these poor, superstitious Catholics received 
them. 

Thus, my two missionary acquaintances were the fore- 
runners of these numerous societies who had Bibles to sell, 
and they were going to prepare the market for the goods. 

There was no truly spiritual side to their life in the sense 
that we naturally expect to find in all other professions. One 
would not attach any importance to a physician whose time 
was wholly taken up with the science of astronomy, or who had 
none other than a superficial interest in the practice of medicinep 
nor yet would we consult a la.wyer upon an intricate question of 
law, when we found that he had but a secondary interest in the 
profession, or whose training was none other than superficial. 
Thus these two young men : they were amateurs so to speak, and 
though in other respects good companions, and gentlemanly in all 
their ways, unlike in this respect others whom I have met, and 
whose education had not enabled them even to speak correctly, 
and who would have proven a greater ornament in the workshop 
or stable than amid the luxury of their smart homes upon the 
banks of the Congo. They all adopted the profession for 
what it afforded them, which meant that they would escape 
the arduous toil of a laborious or confined life in exchange for 
the easy luxury of a quiet home away from friends for a few 
years, but eventually to return for a reward in the shape of 
comfort and luxury. 

In order that I may make clear my impression of these 
supposed missionaries let me tell you of a little incident that 
occurred on the first Sunday we were at sea. It will explain 
the character of the spiritual earnestness of these young men 
who, it was supposed, were going to minister to the soul of 
the savage and turn it from darkness to the light of the 
Gospel. 

We were well down in the Bay of Biscay, the weather being 
all that we could wish for. Being Sunday, like good Protest- 
ants, it was incumbent upon us to don our religion in like 
manner as we donned our Sunday clothes, and therefore service 
was to be conducted in the saloon. No sooner bad the service 
terminated, and each one was returning to his favorite seat on 



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iQo^.J A Narrative of the Missions on the Congo. 791 

the quarter deck, than a message came for the doctor that one of 
the hands had fallen down the stoke-hole. The unfortunate man 
was brought and laid at the entrance of the saloon for exami- 
nation, and as his case presented grave symptoms he was ordered 
to be carried forward. The doctor, unwilling or incapable of 
rendering any assistance or relief, contrary to my expectations, 
after giving his orders, accompanied us to the quarter deck, 
and we all continued talking about the accident and its most 




The Sisters Teaching the Children. 

probable end, not failing to remark the indifference manifested 
upon the part of our friends, both doctor and the professed minis- 
ters of the souL These latter, like the doctor, manifested their 
interest in the symptoms that were apparent, but there was 
absolutely no prompting to extend any spiritual assistance or con- 
solation. Though inexperienced, I felt inclined at that time to 
think that there was something lacking in these professing " Sky 
Pilots," as seamen term them. Yet I was still to learn from 
bitter experience, the value of spiritual consolation, and with 
the fact brought home by contact with death myself, and from 
frequent attendance upon the sick and dying, it dawned upon 
me upon many occasions later on, that there surely was more 
than we as Protestants allowed in the doctrine of the Catholi<5 
Church, and in her regard for the dying. This seeming iodi^ 



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792 A Narrative of the Missions on the Congo. [Sept., 

ference to the dying would not have been strange in one who 
was no more than a careless youth and whose training had no 
bearing upon the subject of final spiritual ministrations, but 
in our friends, who one supposed should practise their professions, 
was another matter altogether. 

Having, as I have said, been brought to the very door of 
death far away from friends and relations, I feel that I can ap- 
preciate the void that is experienced, and that longing for con- 
solation or support one can never describe. That others feel 
this same void is evidenced by the fact that at the last there is 
that longing to have by them if only the old book of prayers 
from which they had doubtless drawn comfort and consolation 
through life and which they cling to at the end. As we 
lie in the helplessness of death, with those around looking 
for the last or behold the fast sinking life passing slowly 
away, what very different thoughts take possession of our 
hearts. Was it possible that this was right, was it possible 
that the end was to be still one of longing ? Was there no 
consolation at the last ? Our station was right across the river 
from the Protestant mission, and our flag was at half mast on 
an average of once a week, but never to my knowledge did I 
learn of their offering to aid or alleviate the sick or tender the 
consolation of their professed religion. 

Fortunately, however, as Protestants we were not to be permitted 
to judge all sects by the standard presented in our missionary 
friends and neighbors, and to illustrate the contrast. One of 
our senior officers was taken ill and died. Though his death 
occurred in a room adjoining our dining hall, none of us were 
sufficiently moved even to stop eating. Our friend had not 
been ailing long, and only two days previous had bidden good- 
by to a companion who was going down the river for a 
change. The following day after the parting of these two 
friends news was sent down the river that the lieutenant was 
in a critical condition, and that there was absolutely no hope 
for his recovery. Death was not long in claiming all who 
came within reach of its cold grasp, the course of disease be- 
ing rapid and sure. So it happened that upon the day of the 
lieutenant's death, and just as we were getting up from din- 
ner, the little tender, the Ville d'AnverSy was sighted round- 
ing the lower bend of the river. In due course of time she 
arrived and her passengers landed, among them the friend of 



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1903.] A NARRATIVE OF THE MISSIONS ON THE CONGO. 793 




Making Leather in the Mission Tannery. 

the deceased, who just one year to the day was destined to 
follow bis comrade. 

Among the passengers, consisting of new officers to replace 
those whom death was so quick to claim, there was a caravan 
consisting of some one hundred and fifty porters, under the 
escort of two Catholic priests. Shall I describe these two men ? 
They were in no respect different from the priests whom I had 
seen in my early days; the same poor, thin, unworldly looking 
men ; the same whom we had been persistently trained to look 
upon as the crafty, conniving creatures who lived upon the ignor- 
ance of the poor, and whose efforts were to guide their poor vic- 
tims to the devil. The news of the sad end of our friend and 
comrade was announced upon their arrival. It was arranged that 
the caravan should proceed upon its way, under the escort of 
one of the fathers, whilst the other remained to perform the 
last rites of the church. Of all the sad and impressive cere- 
monies that I ever experienced, none impressed me so forcibly 
as this. Owing to the gross mismanagement on the part of the 
Comit^ in Brussels, no provision was made for burying the 
dead who were so numerous with us, making it necessary to 
resort to gun-cases for coffins, thus adding to the callous in- 



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794 A Narra tive of the missions on the Congo. [Sept , 

difference into which every one fell. Whilst the carpenter was 
preparing the coffin, the father was with the dead arranging 
the body for burial and fixing up the room in accordance with 
the ideas and ritual of the church. 

This done, and the body having been placed in the coffin, 
alias gun- case, the father spent the part of the night in prayer 
in the room with the tapers burning like the spirits of loving 
angels around the form of a creature of the Almighty, a soul 
that belonged also to the Redeemer whose cross was raised on 
high as the hope of everlasting life. With the morrow came 
the funeral, the prayers for the dead, and the solemnity of the 
occasion made a deep impression upon all those who attended, 
both European and native. 

Though I was not inclined to agree upon the necessity of 




The Mission Girls taught Laundry Work. 

all this outward show, and held my own Protestant views re- 
garding the absurdity of candles, and even crosses, I could not 
for my life help contrasting the scene on board ship on our 
way out with this incident in which the Catholic priest gave 
evidence of his mission. If he thus acted to the dead, what 
might one suppose he would do for the dying. The contrast, 
therefore, becomes one that appals when we see the indiffer- 



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1903.] ** Silent Music:' , 795 

entism of the one, and contrast it with the earnestness of the 
other, both professing the same mission. 

With this let us continue our journey. Contrary to our 
expectations, we did not land at Madeira; but upon out arrival 
there during the early hours of the morning received orders 
to proceed to Santa Cruz de Teneriffe, where after a run of 
eighteen hours we landed, to enjoy a day's pleasure and a ride 
round the picturesque town on donkeys, and otherwise take in 
the beautiful scenery that surrounded us. 

(to be concluded next month.) 



SILENT MUSIC." 

BY C. M. 




HAT means this music in my soul ? 

Is it but prelude to a hymn 
That from the future's organ pipes 

Shall wake my soul in praise of Him 

Who kindles in a maiden's heart 

The undying, holy flame of love, 
That, guarded with a Vestal's care, 

Sends incense up to heaven above? 

Who gives the child's soft smile and kiss. 
For light to him whose day's been long. 

And Pater Noster's music sweet 

From children's lips, for even-song? 

Or is it but a fleeting air 

Touched into life by Fancy's hand. 
And dying with the dying sun. 

That makes the West a wondrous land ? 

Havard Catholic Club. 
TOL. LXXVII.— 51 

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^OYGB (sIOSSBLYN, SlNNBI^. 



BY MARY SARSFIELD GILMORE. 



Part IV. 

ON THE HIGH-TIDE OF MANHOOD. 




CHAPTER IV; 

THE PASSING OF PEARL RIPLEY. 

fELL, my boy, for what are you waiting ? ** asked 
the priest who, descending from the Colonel's 
sick-room, came upon Joyce, forlorn and moping 
in the lower hall. ** My authority is old, and the 
party is assembled. Why not close this touching 
day with the ceremony ? " 

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. 

Joyce Josselyn, bom and brought up amidst all the narrowing restraints of New England 
farm-life, conceives the idea of going to college. His father Hiram considers that college was 
intended for the sons of the rich and that no son of his should waste his youth in college, and if 
Joyce chose to sulk, a good stout horsewhip was the best cure for the youngster's stubborn fan- 
cies. Joyce finds a sympathizer in his desire for learning in Father Martin Camith. 

Chapter II. is a touching family scene between the irate Hiram and the recalcitrant Joyce, 
which concludes in Joyce receiving a fioggine with the horsewhip and leaving home. Chapter 
[II. introduces Mandy Johnson as the boy s sweetheart, whom he meets as he is turning his 
back on the home of his childhood for ever, and they make promises of fidelity. 

In the first chapters of Part II. Joyce as a college student is presented to the various per- 
sonalities who make their home in Carruthdale, the manor-house of Centreville, and there is 
given an insight into the social life of a college town. 

Joyce was graduated with highest honors. Commencement Day at allege. Father 
Martin is there for the first time since his own graduation. Dr. Castleton, the president, 
awakens into the spiritual sense. Joyce having outgrown Mandy Johnson, by conunon con- 
sent their life-ways separate. Joyce enters the world. He accepts the offer tendered to him to 
be sub-editor on a Western paper, and in this capacity, on the morrow of his graduation, he 
enters the vigorous, bustling bfe of the energetic West. At the moment of his departure he 
CflJls on Mrs. Raymond and a significant interview takes place, in which the influence of a wo- 
man of the world enters his life. On the journey to the West Joyce has a long talk with Ray- 
mond, in which the latter gives his views on various matters, and states the terms on which he 
engages Joyce. Arrived in San Francisco, Jovce sends an exuberant telegram to his moUier. 
Joyce enters social life and takes part in a ball at the Golden Gate Ranch. Mina and Joyce 
are drawn unto each other, while Raymond's wife talks of divorce. Mina and Raymond, land- 
ing at Island Rock, are both drowned. Joyce endeavors to save them, and narrowly escapes 
with his owii life. After Raymond's death Mrs. Raymond removes to San Francisco, pending 
the settlement of her husband's estate. Pearson, having assumed control of the Pioneer, has 
a stormy interview with Joyce. Mrs. Raymond suddenly decides to sail for Europe ; Joyce, fail- 
ing to agree to her plans, decides to remain with the Pioneer. Stephen propK>ses to Gladys. 
Jovce meets with the great temptation. Pearl Ripley, a Comedy Girl, enters into his life. 
Womanhood has lost something of its spiritual beauty as the result. Later on he is lured into 
a scheme of stock gambling. Stephen engages in social work, and tastes some of the higher 
things of life. He meets Gladys after the promised year's delay ; while Mrs. Raymond, a 
restless woman of the world, comes into Joyce's life again. Joyce is about to declare his 
love for Gladys when the news comes of a mme swindle. Joyce saves Hans from despair, but 
comes again under the sway of Mrs. Raymond's power. Joyce and Imogen are married. On 
returning from their honeymoon Imogen dies very suddenly. Her death is the cause of Joyce's 
spiritual regeneration. Two years pass and Pearl Ripley comes with her child to the home of 
Joyce's mother. That mother receives her and experiences her own punishment for having 
educated Joyce without religion. Joyce is again attracted to Gladys, when Pearl Ripley 
and his mother and his child find their way to San Francisco. An earthquake happens while 
all are gathered at the Golden Gate Ranch and little Joy is accidently killed by a falling stone. 
Joy's death settled the question of the marriage of Joyce and Pearl. Pearl leaves to follow 
the career of an artist. Joyce is left with Gladys, the love of his early manhood. They 
marry. The end. 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 797 

" / am ready," said Joyce, stolidly. But his emphasis was 
significant. It confessed his inability to answer for Pearl. 

It was late in the afternoon of the day upon which little 
Joy had been laid at rest. "The little white hearse" had de- 
posited its pathetic burden; the flower- lined bed of dreamless 
sleep, covered and canopied with symbolic lilies; and back tq 
Golden Gate Ranch the mourners returned desolately, their 
hearts lone for one little child. Yet the wings of the invisible 
angel substituting his mortal presence already were folding their 
sore souls tenderly. Pure desires, high thoughts, noble visions 
of life, flitted before the eyes brimming with tears of sorrow. 
The grace of death to the dead, includes grace to the living: 
and a child dies for the resurrection of many. 

Of all at Golden Gate Ranch none lamented the little life 
ended — none wept for it more bitterly, than he who alone could 
not follow in the white hearse's train. The Colonel declared 
himself guilty of the blood of the innocent. Why had he taken 
the child from his rightful protectors? Why had he not been 
warned by the scientific predictions, — the signs he knew from 
experience, — of impending catastrophe? Why had he not 
acted upon his own misgivings as to the safety of the Crystal 
Palace ? Above all, how could he — he, a soldier, an officer, — 
have been guilty of the cowardice, the dishonor, of saving his 
own scarred and battered old hulk which had bad its day, 
while losing the young and vital life entrusted to him? 

The gentle Mam'selle alone exorcised the morbid demon 
possessing the Colonel. At her word, under her touch, he lay 
as submissive and dependent as a child, though resisting all 
other efforts to comfort or control him. But Mam'selle's in- 
fluence was exerted only under resistless pressure. Her vir- 
ginal soul was troubled by the complications of her position as 
the Colonel's hostess. Far down in the delicate heart that 
had cherished and fostered its maiden-bloom, Mam'selle knew 
that she was . still young in all save years, and blushed in- 
genuously at the latitude conceded her by the literal world, 
that recks not of the youth of ideality and inexperience. The 
chivalrous Colonel, understanding, never asked for his hostess; 
and repeatedly pleaded that she might not be troubled on his 
account. But as his demand to be removed to his own Ranch 
was ignored day by day, and his abject helplessness seemed to 
prophesy long dependence upon Mam'selle's hospitality, his 



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798 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner, [Sept., 

still thought ran deep, — its direction confided as yet, however, 
only to the sympathetic yet amused priest, whom Father Mar- 
tin's letter, and a line from his Bishop, had established as a 
daily visitor at Golden Gate Ranch. 

" / am ready," repeated Joyce, in a more resolute voice ; 
and there was the suggestion of a heroic, rather than of a 
despairing spirit, in his squared shoulders. Even already little 
Joy's death was a more potent moral influence than his child- 
life could have been I His grave made Pearl sacred as his 
cradle had failed to make her ! Joyce's voluntary desire, now, 
was to justify her. 

" Then with your permission," said the priest, " I shall 
summon the family to the Colonel's room. It is his wish to 
witness the ceremony, and I suppose you have no objection. 
There seems no valid excuse for further delay." 

" I must see Pearl alone, father. She has evaded, — ignored 
me. 

•'I will send her to you, my son. She is docile. She will 
obey me. But do not detain me unnecessarily. I see that the 
trap is at the door — " 

"You must dine with us to night, father, of all nights, in 
charity 1 There are late trains. I wonder who ordered the 
cart ? " 

" / did 1 " Pearl came slowly down the winding stairway. 
She had made no change of toilette since her return from the 
funeral ; and carried the satchel she had used on her Over- 
land journey. Before Joyce could relieve her, she set it down 
lightly. " Excuse me, father," she said, ** for overhearing your 
words. I, too, believe that ' delays are dangerous ' — " 

"That is well, my child. We but awaited your pleasure. 
I will precede you to the Colonel's room ! " 

"The ladies are gathered there. I requested their pres- 
ence — " 

^^ Pearl! ^^ cried Joyce, protestingly, as she turned towards 
the stairway. To his softer nature, his mood of tenderness, it 
seemed terrible that in cold blood, without one preliminary 
word of reconciliation, he and she should be made husband 
and wife ! 

But if she heard, she did not heed him, — flitting ahead 
darkly and inexorably as a figure of fate, her thin black gown 
hovering like a shadow about her. The mourning garb sub- 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. . 799 

dued her beauty, and in subduing, refined it. Her pure pallor 
gave it a pathos that her type made tragical. She was no 
longer the handsome girl, no longer the dashing actress ; but a 
woman who had drained life's cup of suffering. As she en- 
tered the room, silence fell upon it, — a silence tense with 
general embarrassment, with conflicting sympathies, with an- 
tagonistic convictions. Mam'selle and the Colonel were on the 
conservative side, in spite of moral ideals. Mrs. Josselyn and 
Gladys sat hand-in-hand, each suffering for herself, for Joyce 
and Pearl, for each other 1 The priest, feeling the strained at- 
mosphere, hastily equipped himself for the service. His sym- 
pathy was with the bereaved young mother, — the handsome, 
unfortunate girl whom he thought the victim of a most awk- 
ward and trying occasion. 'But Pearl, standing haughtily, 
looked no object of pity. Yet her eyes, although proud, were 
strangely tender. 

" If the bride and groom are in readiness," the priest sug- 
gested, opening his book. 

Joyce responded, and impulsively extended his hand towards 
Pearl. 

" My daughter ! " expostulated the priest, as she drew back, 
rejecting it. 

"But there is to be no bride, father," Pearl answered, com- 
posedly. " With all due reverence, my response is, * I will not I ' '* 

"/ will not/'* 

If embarrassed silence had marked the atmosphere of the 
room at the moment of Pearl's entrance, — it was amazed silence 
that succeeded it, as she uttered her low yet ringing words. 
In fact her auditors unanimously discredited their own hearing, 
and glanced from the speaker to one another in incredulous 
inquiry and surprise. She, Pearl Ripley, — a woman whose 
ambiguous position, moral and social, was a just target for the 
world's reproach, — she, a struggling actress, to decline a mar- 
riage which meant at once honor, wealth, and even all tender 
possibilities as well, since love's young dream, like hope, dies 
hard, and is quick of resurrection. It was impossible that 
such a refusal could be considered seriously. If sincere, the 
girl must be temporarily irresponsible. Even the priest agreed 
with Mam'selle, when she ascribed Pearl's negative to feminine 
nerves. 



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8oo Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Sept., 

"Ah, la pauvref she murmured, gesturing towards the 
bell. " That she should be hysterical is no more than natural. 
A glass of red wine — " 

But Pearl rejected the hospitable suggestion. 

** No, Mam'selle Delacroix," she said, " I am not hysterical. 
I was never more mistress of myself than at the present 
moment, which I recognize to be the most critical of my life. 
I have requested your presence, acting not upon impulse, but 
deliberately and upon conviction, to witness, not my marriage, 
but my voluntary and final rejection of marriage ! This seemed 
to me only justice to Joyce, that no misjudgmcnt might 
shadow his future ! " 

Her eyes turned with earnest significance upon Gladys. 
Even tears had not blinded Pearl to Joyce's love-secret She 
glanced at her watch, and made a slight grimace. The rig at 
the door still waited. 

" There is short time to spare," she resumed, " but my 
change of mind may be explained in a single sentence. My 
marriage is no longer an obligation/ Therefore I claim the 
right to make my own future." 

" Beware lest you mar it," hastened the solicitous priest. 
" My child, thought before speech is prudence ! " 

''Thought?'' she echoed. "Have I not thought, then,— I, 
Joy's mother? My days have been a daze of thought, under 
enforced action ! My nights, agonies of thought too troubled 
for slumber ! While my little Joy lived, I thought of him 
only. Now, my privilege is to think of myself ! " 

"Oh, certainly," assented Joyce, in offended dignity. Even 
in his astounded relief, he could not but feel crestfallen. 
Pearl's indifference to him was distinctly unflattering. 

" It is true," continued Pearl, " that Mrs. Josselyn and 
Father Martin convinced me of my duty to sacrifice both my- 
self and Joyce, for little Joy's sake. But that tender necessity 
no longer remains. Then what, now, is between us two?" 

" Memory, my child," reminded the priest, with reluctant 
severity. 

The moral reproach of the world was not lost upon Pearl. 
The proud woman suddenly relaxed into the girl humiliated. 
For an instant her arm screened her face. 

" Oh, this ordeal is very painful, very cruel to me," she 
sobbed. " But I had a reason even stronger than to do jus- 



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1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 801 

tice to Joyce. To you, who know my past, I wished to plead 
for myself, — not just as Pearl Ripley, but as — ^Joy's mother ! *' 

" Spare yourself," begged the priest. But she did not heed 
him. 

" By what I am," she cried, unconsciously extending her 
hands in appeal, — '.' by what natural temperament impels me to 
be, oh, do try to understand that I could be — what I was — 
without wilful sin, — even almost innocently ! Try to allow for 
the temptations of the dramatic instinct in an orphaned and 
ignorant girlhood. No culture of any sort, no sense of moral 
responsibility, counterbalanced or controlled my emotional 
nature. When, as I matured, my soul spoke, I obeyed it 
blindly, breaking away from Joyce and all that he represented ! 
Can't you see how that break redeemed all that went before 
it,-r-that I lived up to the first light I recognized ? " 

No one answered. The silence was not of doubt, but of 
awe. An unveiled soul claims the reverence of humanity. 

" I broke away," she sobbed, " as you know, to an issue of 
unforeseen shame and suffering, yet impelled by the same in- 
stinct that now parts me from marriage. I thought, then, that 
I longed only for a freedom and career that the bondage of 
love did not give me. But now I know that I strained towards 
the purity of life which is the only atmosphere in which true 
art develops. I learned this lesson from two good and grand 
men, — my masters ! The first was the world-famous impre- 
sario, the Signor Lanza. The second — your own Father 
Martin." 

** Lanza ? " — ^Joyce started. How the name took him back 
to his Western beginnings, — to the Crystal Palace on the night 
of its festal glory, and the ball's after- scene in the autumn 
moonlight; to passionate little Mina, in her love and pique and 
recklessness of erratic genius; to the signor with his intense 
eyes and romantic beauty, his Bohemian chivalry, and poetic 
words : ** Of a race that has given priests to the altar ^ virgins 
to the cloister^ heroes to Italy ^ — as well as great singers, great 
painters, great poets to Art, — / Lanza, come T' . . . *M 
woman is never an artist till her heart is broken / ** . . . 
*^ Ah / None save Lanza is faithful to Art, — Art the pure, the 
divine — " 

And Pearl Ripley was the Signor Lanza's disciple, — the 
Signor's, and Father Martin's ! Then what wonder that he. 



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8o2 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Sept., 

young and light, had not held her ? What wonder that he 
failed to rank with Her " masters " ? For once, at least, Joyce 
was humble I 

'' I met the signor first in Australia, and later in England," 
Pearl was explaining. ** He saw in me what he called ' genius 
blighted,' and questioned me as to my youth and life. I 
was inspired to confide in him, — to confess the truth. Then 
he told me that my blight was no longer a mystery to him, 
that a moral flaw was a rift in the lute of art, that it could be 
redeemed by self-sacrifice, by consecration, — but never by self- 
indulgence ; that my life must be spiritual, isolated, ideal, if I 
would live up to my genius, even professionally. Then and 
there I began to discern dimly, what Father Martin made clear 
to me, — that the art-life is a life * to keep pure, to hold high, 
to live finely, to serve with sacrifice * : — in other words, that / 
can hope to be great as an actress only in so far as I am good 
as a woman / " 

She had spoken with bowed face, but now it lifted. She 
stood erect, and her unshamed eyes flashed with pride, — the 
righteous pride of a pure and strong spirit. 

**I should not be a good woman if I married Joyce now," 
she declared. '' I should commit moral suicide, and do moral 
murder. What man wishes to marry the ghost of a past that 
reproaches him? What woman idealizes the man who has de- 
graded her girlhood ? Without love in the wife, without rever- 
ence in the husband, what justifies marriage between free man 
and woman ? No, in parting, not in marriage, lies Joyce's 
honor and mine. Now, permit me to take my leave of 
you." 

•* God bless you, my daughter," conceded the priest, realiz- 
ing the futility of further protest. 

"Your blessing is your best farewell, my father," she said, 
turning from him humbly, with a reverent bow. " Mam'selle 
Delacroix, a thousand thanks for your hospitality. Dear, dear 
Mrs. Josselyn, I take no farewell of you — " 

" No 1 Oh, no ! " sobbed Joyce's mother, with a long em- 
brace. " You have a home now, — a home and a mother I '.' 

As Pearl passed on to the Colonel, he hid his dimmed eyes. 
The bereaved young mother seemed to accuse him mutely. 
At every mention of Joy, whom he had failed to save, he had 
groaned and tossed in anguish of spirit. Yet a first ray of 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 803 

comfort now lessened his heartache. This unanticipated de- 
nouement was such a miraculous dispensation ! Was the sacri- 
fice of young life, that had seemed cruel accident, the most 
merciful of Providences, instead? 

" Dear Colonel Pearson,** murmured Pearl, sinking to her 
knees by his bedside, " by your suffering, I know the heroism 
which is little Joy's debt to you. May I kiss the hands that 
gave him — to heaven ? " 

** You are a noble woman,** he choked, pressing her hands 
to his lips. " My girl, I admire, — I revere you ! ** 

As she rose, she turned towards Gladys with a glorified 
face. Was it really hers at last, the reverence of good men, — 
aught better than which the world holds no woman ? 

"Miss Broderick — ** she began, then her full heart silenced 
her; but the abnegation, the appeal of her eyes, was eloquent. 
She had no dearer desire than for Gladys' happiness, — Gladys, 
whose unselfish sympathy and gentle charity had won her pas- 
sionate gratitude. Until now Pearl had never known woman's 
love for woman. In the battle of her unmothered and sister- 
less youth, she had made no abiding friend of her sex; and 
her beauty and meteor-like success on the stage had antago- 
nized her professional rivals. But the selfless justice, the con- 
scientious mercy of Mrs. Josselyn, in championing her, a sin- 
stained stranger, against her own son, had given Pearl her first 
revelation of noble womanhood, and Gladys* tenderness had 
completed the ideal. With the courage of true humility, she 
kissed Gladys yearningly. " Forget me,** she whispered, " as 
life and love forget the dead ! ** Then, with one glance at 
Joyce, she had vanished. 

For an instant, the surprise of her flight left all passive. 
Then Joyce recovered himself sufficiently to attempt to follow 
her; but already the cart had whirled from the door. The 
woman had vanished on the way of the artist. Such was the 
passing of Pearl Ripley from Joyce's life ! 

Did she pass with no regret, — looking only before, not 
behind her? Had real life no sweetness for her, that mimic 
life lacked? Did her woman-heart, her love-nature, lightly 
renounce their sweet birth-right, — her soul, with its' memory 
of immortal motherhood, resign love without one sob ? 

We may question, but Pearl Ripley never will answer us. 
She is not one who, once having chosen, looks back. She has 



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8o4 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner, [Sept., 

loved, she has suffered, and full life is the fruit thereof, — full 
life, whose true name is soul-growth ! 

But Joyce, hurt and startled, did not rise to Pearl's alti- 
tude. Her flight seemed to leave him in an ignoble position 
towards her, and his proud spirit chafed to redeem it. 

"Oh, this is all wrong," he cried, as he returned discon- 
solately. " / was given no chance with her, — but some one 
must act for me! Of course half of my kingdom is hers, by 
least rights ! She must be backed — made a star as an actress — " 

"You're a booby," exploded the Colonel, irritably. "A 
grand girl like that wouldn't touch your money with tongs. 
And if she did, it would ruin her, — artist as well as woman, 
since inspiration demands self-respect!" 

"Well, what about my self-respect?" demanded Joyce, re- 
sentfully. 

" Your self-respect in this matter depends solely upon your 
unselfishness. The woman with a past craves absorption in 
the present. The necessity of her chosen work is Pearl's great- 
est mercy. It would be cruel to her to make it a luxury ! " 

" It was the choice tres convenable,** approved the relieved 
Mam'selle. She could praise Pearl's self-effacement uncon- 
ditionally. 

As a tap at the door announced the return of the concerned 
nurse, a general retreat was under way, when the Colonel 
commanded a halt ! 

" Wait, please ! " he said imperiously ; then flushed like a 
boy. Mam'selle eyed him solicitously. He had fever ! 

"Well, my good friends," smiled the priest, who for some 
unknown reason looked roguish, "I will take leave, if there is 
to be no wedding — " 

" But there is to be a wedding," announced the Colonel, 
recovering himself. " And the groom is the battered old wreck 
before you! Mam'selle, I am here on your hands indefinitely. 
If only for propriety's sake, marry me ! " 

"But he is raving — in the fever — out of his head, — " stam- 
mered Mam'selle, unnerved by her surprise and embarrassment. 

"No, the Colonel is quite sane, my dear lady," defended 
the priest. "And under present circumstances, his little coup 
is not, I think, indefensible. Days ago, he confided in me, and 
enlisted my services. Now, the ceremony is quite possible at any 
time. May I not add that long service deserves recompense ? " 



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1903.] Joyce Josselvn, Sinner. 805 

** But he is still the heretic," panted Mam'selle, seeking 
wildly for a valid excuse. " It is true we are friends, — very dear, 
close friends. But to marry him, — Ah, ciel ! To marry him — ** 

" Will be the sure way to convert him from his heresy, my 
dear madam. But in any case, religious difference is a diffi- 
culty lessened by years. Without scruple, I think you may 
indulge the Colonel, if you will. Hope deferred will not speed 
his recovery ! " 

•' Do please have a wedding," implored Joyce, with a con- 
vulsed face. A nudge from Mrs. Josselyn repressed his levity. 
Considering that the sensitive Mam'selle was in question, 
Joyce's comedy might end tragically for the Colonel. 

" Come to your room for only one little minute, Mam'selle," 
pleaded Gladys. "You must not marry the dear Colonel in 
black ! " 

Marry the Colonel ? What fixed and inevitable destiny the 
words seemed to prophesy ! Poor Mam'selle trembled help- 
lessly, — yet she hesitated. 

"Let me speak to Mam'selle," demanded the wily Colonel. 
His forces fell back obediently. 

"Dear Mam'selle, this surprise may seem a brutality," he 
whispered ; " but my excuse is, that circumstances justify our 
immediate marriage, and my sole chance is to take you by 
storm. Of course your shy reluctance appeals to my rever- 
ence, yet the hour has come to vanquish it, in the name of 
brave womanliness. We are not girl and boy, to whom mar- 
riage means life's beginning; but old and tried friends who 
have daily need of each other. And my days may be few, — 
for injured age does not linger I Do you think you will regret 
the right to let me die with my hand in yours ? Without you, 
death, like life, will be lonely for me." 

"Ah, cheri;' sobbed the beguiled Mam'selle, "but I had 
not the dream — not the thought — of the danger! But non, it 
cannot be true ! Le bon Dieu is merciful. He will spare thee 
to me, — my preux chevalier ! " 

So the Colonel's diplomacy scored his crowning victory. 
The elusive Mam'selle was captured at last. She followed 
Gladys from the room with tearful submission, widowed in 
spirit, ere she was yet wedded wife. 

But for a man on his death-bed the Colonel was surpris- 
ingly alert and animated, once his inamorata had passed from 



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8o6 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Sept, 

sight. He dictated an imperative summons to be telephoned 
to the Surfside, where his interested relatives awaited develop- 
ments. Then his nurse and valet, between them, achieved his 
toilet, though under the difficulties of hot running fire. Not 
until, in spite of his bandages, they had succeeded in giving 
him a touch of his normal martial jauntiness, did the Colonel 
rest on his laurels. 

Then came an invasion heartily welcome in the main, but 
inclusive of one recruit at whom the Colonel swore in secret. 
Perhaps it is not in the nature of even the most amiable of 
daughters to rejoice at her father's second marriage ; perhaps 
it was only maternal loyalty that inspired Breezy to resist the 
senior Dolly's masculine protests ; but, in any case, the 
Colonel's married daughter was cruel enough to attend the 
wedding with Dolly junior in tow, thus unnecessarily accentu- 
ating the inopportune fact that the bridegroom was a full- 
fledged grandfather! 

Yet what more auspicious guest than innocent childhood 
can bless the occasion of human bridals, — unless, indeed, it be 
such ideal maidenhood as even now has stolen fondly to the 
Colonel's side, — a tall slip of a girl with virginal figure, and 
vivid, spirited, yet likewise spiritualized face, — a girl in whose 
hair spring's bright sunbeams are lingering, yet whose eyes 
blend youth's laughter with woman-dreams; — Harry, 

" Standing with reluctant feet 
Where the brook and river meet, — " 

half-way between school- days and cloister ! Then a whine and 
scratch at the door, and an appealing jingle of bells, betray 
the proximity of Harry's dear familiar spirit, Smudges, — a 
matured Smudges now, with a perchance wistful scorn of the 
past and gone puppy-days whose unregenerated spirits have 
succumbed to gentle but firm convent-rule, — yet the same little 
bright-eyed, pert-nosed Skye, — the same loving and loyal 
Smudges ! 

Upon Mam'selle's shy appearance a little later, — what a fair 
bride she looked, in spite of the snows of time on her charm- 
ingly coiffured hair; how the lace- veiled mauve silk, in which 
Gladys had arrayed her, set off her fresh skin, girlish now with 
blushes; how, rising to the bridal occasion with true racial in- 
stinct, her dark eyes coquetted with the admiring Colonel, — 



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1903.] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 807 

how like dove-wings her dainty hands fluttered among the 
flowers she carried ; how her delicate patrician features, the 
graceful dignity of her frail little figure, at once asserted pride 
and revealed tenderness, as responding to the salutations of her 
future daughters, she poised herself like a bird on the verge of 
flight, just within reach of the Colonel's hand ! 

Not an eye in the room but a tear of sentiment softened, — 
not a smile but was tremulous with purest emotion, as the 
priest joined the gray-haired couple. And when the Colonel 
and Mam*selle were at last man and wife, and the departing 
witnesses, turning for one farewell-glance, saw the bride gently 
seat herself by her husband's side, and meet his eyes with a 
smile as her hand slipped in his, not even Joyce had a jest, nor 
was the priest's face unmoved, for a common human chord 
vibrated. Ah ! To all hearts alike went the beautiful truth that 
love never grows old, — that man and woman-lives, at all ages, 
have need of each other, — and that when soul weds with soul, 
death is robbed of its sting, since in love life shrines immor- 
tality. 

In due time the Pembertons and Harry took their depar- 
ture ; and when Smudges' wagging tail had faded from view, a 
forlorn lull fell on Golden Gate Ranch. Gladys and the Rev- 
erend Father vanished together. Then Mrs. Josselyn suddenly 
determined to start for home that evening, and hastened up- 
stairs to pack for her journey. In spite of his surly assurances 
to the contrary, she was haunted by visions of Hiram lonely 
for her, — and dreaded the ravage of " hired help " in the im- 
maculate Josselyn kitchen. In reckless spirit, Joyce offered to 
return with her to Maintown. Then he moped in the hall, for- 
lornly clicking his heels against the marble flooring, as he mused 
on his joyless prospects. 

Even his optimism realized the hopelessness of aspiring to 
Gladys' favor, considering recent disasters. Of course no girl 
could forgive, no woman forget, the scandal which Pearl's flight 
had ended. Nothing better in life, then, was left him at present, 
than to escort his mother on her journey, surprise his father, 
discuss all things under the sun with Father Martin, and visit 
Stephen before his priestly ordination. After all, the East held 
all who cared for him now ! Joy's grave was the West's single 
claim on him. 



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8o8 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Sept., 

Absorbed in his thoughts, Joyce had been deaf to advanc- 
ing steps, and started as the hand of the priest clasped his 
shoulder. 

" Has the cart yet returned from the station, my son ? 
My return as soon as possible is obligatory/' 

"Oh, in charity dine here to-night, father," Joyce begged. 
" I 'm in for it, and our special will get you up all right. Wait 
to see the last of mother and me ! " 

" I have a feeling that I am seeing only the first of you, 
my good son. But as for dinner, many thanks, but to-night it 
is impossible. Already I have taken farewell of your good 
mother, who — I predict — will return alone ! " 

"A false prophecy, father. What is to keep me here 
now ? Even this feast, without your countenance, is impossi- 
ble to me.*' 

"I regret—" 

" Oh, never mind ! I 'm as glad to go along with you now, 
and 'phone Dolly to bring up mother." 

"As you please. Then take leave of Miss Broderick, my 
son. Her appearance at this moment is timely." 

Then the deserted veranda suggested to the tactful priest 
the finishing of his office. Joyce found himself alone with 
Gladys. 

As she approached he could not but notice that her face 
was very pale. Yet her eyes, through tears* traces, smiled at 
him. 

'* So an adieu must be said to you, too, Joyce," she said. 
" Your dear mother has just surprised me with the news that 
she and you leave us to-night ! I shall be lonely, very lonely, 
without my two friends. Yet of course — it is but right — ^that 
you should go with her ! " 

" I go, right or wrong," he said, with bitter curtness. 
" Did you think that I could stay here — now ? " 

The priest, glancing in as he paced by the door, smiled at 
Gladys the saint-like smile that has nothing of self in it. 
Their recent tete-a-tete had been the occasion of respective 
confidence and advice. He foresaw for Joyce a happy future. 

" But you will return where your lifq-work waits you ? " 
faltered Gladys. ** You know that the Colonel depends on you 
for the Pioneer, — and it was dear Mr. Raymond's wish, and 
your own desire — " 



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1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 809 

** I cannot return, Gladys. I shall go abroad. Every mo- 
ment here is an intolerable torture to me, — as things are now, 
— between us ! " 

" As things are — between us ? " 

" Oh, you know all I mean ! Do not trifle with me, — it is 
beneath you. Of course I recognize the vain presumption of 
even hoping for your forgiveness. A man's private sin might 
be outlived in time; but all this miserable publicity has made 
my case hopeless. What is left for me, then, but to say, — 
good-by ?'* 

Her lowered eyes gave no sign, though her face had 
flushed brilliantly. With a low cry he leaned towards her, 
grasping her hands, and holding them pressed against his lips. 

** It is good-by, my Gladys," he whispered brokenly. " Oh, 
my one love, my life-love, it is good-by ! '* 

In spite of her generous resolve, Gladys hesitated. She 
would have been more or less than human if she had not hesi- 
tated, — if there were no hurt, no bitterness, no humiliation in 
her heart, — no sorrowful, shamed memory that Pearl Ripley had 
preceded her, — no shadow from little Joy's grave ! Yet even 
as the girl resented these, the woman submitted to them. Not 
alone because she had learned that, like all sweet things of life, 
love knows its own bitterness; — not even because of her faith 
in love's saving grace, and the dearness of Joyce's soul to her ! 
No, the balance, even as it trembled, was turned in favor of 
Joyce, simply and solely by the spell of tender human memory, 
— the memory of the wedded lovers upstairs, and 

" The light that never was on land or sea,** 

illumining their dear old faces! 

"It is good'iy, Glsidys/* repeated Joyce. His heart ached 
for her answer. 

Then, at last, her eyes lifted, — no longer the girl's eyes, 
half- shy, half coquettish, — ^but woman's eyes, with love's pa- 
tient faith in them. 

" ' Good-by ' — for how long, Joyce ? " she questioned softly. 
" When shall we read — my little red book f " 

Gladys! — Gladys!*^ he cried in incredulous rapture. 

And Gladys' kiss, — her first love-kiss, — answered him. 



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8lO JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Sept., 

CHAPTER V. 

THE LITTLE RED BOOK. 
My Gladys: 

The famous specialist has come and gone, and left no hope behind. Not 
my years of prime, but ii«y days are numbered. As I lie here facing the fatal 
truth, the vanity of human dreams is my bitter lesson. How true that "man 
proposes, but God disposes I '* How inspired the earning of proverb and 
epistle, — *' Boast not for to-morrow ^^^ — ^* For what is your life ? It is a vapor 
which appeareth for a little timey and afterwards shall vanish away / " — I 
boasted for to-morrow, — / forgot that I lived but for a little time, — when I 
planned for our common future as wealth's stewards, my daughter ! To this 
end I have multiplied and accumulated my fortune, disbursing only its in- 
terest, day by day. Have I been justified in sacrificing the present, — my 
allotted opportunity, — to a future upon which I knew that I had no lien ? — No, 
too late I realize that to dally with personal duty is to fail it for ever. To 
each day of His world, God gives the men and means ordained by-His Provi- 
dence ; and the creature postponing his destined hour, sins against the Divine 
Law of Order. 

It is true that all men have a duty to the future, but it is fulfilled not by 
sacrificing, but by serving the present. To our own day, to contemporaneous 
humanity, we owe all that we have, as well as all that we are ; and a record of 
noble expenditure, not a posthumous hoard, is the rich man's title to heaven. 

Shall I leave you, then, only a competence, my Gladys, and distribute my 
wealth in my life's last hour? No, a nobler way of atonement suggests itself 
to me,— of vicarious atonement through you ! 

Were you a son, I should not dare to lead you into the rich man's tempta- 
tions. Inherited wealth, conducive at best to highest human evolution, too 
often serves retrogression, instead. But the selfish indulgence that appeals to 
man's nature, has no snare for your aspiring spirit, my daughter ; and the 
thought is upon me, that out of the evil of my rusted treasure, comes the good 
of its possession by you. Why? Because wealth in the hands of noble 
womanhood y has been the need of my generation, and will be the worse need of 
vours! As my heiress, I believe you will fill this need, Gladys. As a woman, 
you are equipped for your mission ! 

Side by side, we have watched the materialistic trend of our country, and 
feared lest the "light of the world " should flicker, — its glorious promise fail ! 
We have seen the proud march of human progress invade God's ground, 
which is the sole sound foundation of any national life ! We have recognized 
the result, in dishonor in high places ; since spiritual conviction and its con- 
science alone curb and chasten selfish human ambition. We have looked on 
social discontent, — on mass revolt and class- rivalry, — knowing that what we 
saw was but the beginning, predictive, if unequalled, of a devastating end. 
Worse than all, we have seen the effect of public perversion upon the private 
life which is alike the vital source and resource of the nation, — the waning 
reverence for the hallowed domestic hearthstone, the disintegration of family- 
life ! And we have agreed that the root of these evils is not " the desire of 
money," — which desire, for noble purpose, is good and laudable, — but its 
selfish ambition, its flagrant misuse, — a guilt common to men and women ! 



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I903-] Joyce Joss el yn, Sinner. 8 m 

Then inherit the bulk of my fortune, Gladys, as a sacred trust, — not a 
selfish possession. I impose no command, no restricting condition ; but I 
confide to you my own ideal. It is the specific service of three great causes, 
whose victory or loss, at the present epoch, must be the glory or shame of 
woman ! With your life, with your wealth, both as woman and heiress, serve 

GODLINESS ! HUMANITY ! SIMPLICITY ! 

Godliness, As / read the lesson of the Annunciation, it consigns the 
spiritual life of the world to woman's keeping. Both virgin and mother are 
charged with a mission to the souls of the men of their time I Three foes 
boldly menacing modern man's soul-life, challenge woman to-day to be up and 
doing ! All three are in touch with woman's special province. Hence her 
duty seems thrust upon her. 

The first foe ot Godlinesss is ^^Non-Religious Education,** It is the 
crime of spiritual infanticide foreseen by Christ, when He called little children, 
and warned the world, *^ Forbid them not /** Yet direct disregard of the 
Divine interdiction characterizes our vaunted educational system. In the pub- 
lic schools, the problem of conflicting creeds is solved superficially, by the 
prohibition of religious remark or instruction, thus confining education to its 
secular phases, and shutting God from a generation of souls in their youth. 
The proximate result is to be seen in the universities, where intellectuality is 
the antagonist of Christianity. Yet an agnostic maturity predicates atheism 
in posterity, — a sad outlook for Christian country and century ! Then by the 
power — ^indirectly political,— of woman's social influence, — by the direct civic 
state, and therefore national power of representative fortune. Stand for tax- 
reform on the basis of eclectic assignment ^ enabling parents to dictate the educa- 
tional bent of their children^ and placing on level of common advantage^ re- 
ligious and secular schools / 

The second subtle foe of the cause of Godliness, is the first in its femi- 
nine evolution! Its name, — " Woman* s Higher Education^** in its accepted 
significance, is a mis-nomer. There is no height within strictly human limits. 
Only on the wing of soul-lore does the mind mount to eminence. Then, my 
Gladys, champion the Higher Education in its sole true sense, — not the pagan 
education sophistically deifying science while ignoring Omniscience, but the 
nobler erudition that with true philosophy, simultaneously cultivate soul and 
intellect/ — Woman's individual soul, and the spirituality of her generation, — 
the soul-life of the future, whose vital spark is ignited or extinguished by 
motherhood in the present, — are not the only issues at stake. Public weal in 
the human order is likewise in question, since modern woman figures actively 
in social economy ; yet ethics deep-rooted in the soil of the soul, alone prove 
an oak to lean upon ! The Christian curriculum gives the only education 
specifically equipping the social worker/ Records attest that lacking the 
supernatural spirit of faith which vitalizes good works, and make them endur- 
ing, the letter of human sociology, philanthropy, charity, is written down a 
fruitless failure! 

The third foe of Godliness leaves the educational field, and flaunts on 

the field- of- the-cloth-of- gold, — Society, Here we pass from the spiritual call 

of women in general, to the social vocation of the gentlewoman in particular I 

Conservatively speaking, social morality is the supreme aud exclusive trust of 

VOL. LXXVII. — 52 

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8i2 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner, [Sept., 

the representative Catholic woman / But as yet she has failed to rise to her 
mission. The pride of life, the pomp of the world, dazzling her ambitious 
eyes, have deluded her into confusing Good Society with Smart Society, — its 
ignoble yet triumphant antithesis. Yet conscience and spiritual perception 
dictate that an uncompromising moral standard, an inspiring because aspiring 
social ideal, represent the obligatory courage of religious conviction I Mascu- 
line vice and dishonor, though the vice be secret and the dishonor triumph, — 
feminine laxity, though glittering with priceless diamonds, have no place by 
conscientious and pure womanhood's side. A society whose youth plays with 
the fire of flirtation, whose husbands and wives claim the license of alien sen- 
timent, and defy at will the sweet penalty of Christian marriage, "the inheri- 
tance of the Lord," — a society wherein Divorce is the rule, not the exception, 
is a society in which Godliness is not only ignored, but insulted ; and the 
Catholic woman accessory to its evils, is guilty of grievous and far-reaching 
sin! Moreover, lax morality sows material standards, and the society that 
sustains such, tempts not only its class, but the masses outside it, to rate 
wealth above worth, success above honor, and to serve the flesh at the cost of 
the spirit. The harvest of this seed is reaped in socialism and anarchism. 
Then, Gladys, in the position to which your wealth calls you, by precept and 
practice proclaim the great truth, that woman as the mother of future genera- 
tions, has no more grand^ no more terrible^ no more soulful and immortal re- 
sponsibility^ than woman as dictator, sustainer, and sovereign arbiter, of the 
present social level / 

After, or rather abreast of Godliness, since the Commandment associates 
love of God and neighbor, the second cause for your championship, my 
Gladys, is the Charity re-christened 

HUMANITY. 

In its original tender sense, — the significance of the Scriptures — the word 
Charity would express my full and exact meaning; but the term, as synony- 
mous with public and systemized alms-giving, refutes the true human spirit. 
The suggestive discrepancy that even as free libraries, public parks, and diverse 
charitable institutions increase and multiply, the struggle between rich and 
poor waxes ever more fiercely instead of waning in love and peace, is to my 
point, that . modem charity lacks Humanity — the Charity of the Gospels, — 
the Law of Love ! There is material charity, indeed, in public benefaction, — 
in the red-taped dole of the corporation — in the gratuitous and munificent 
donation whose ostentatiousness is its own immediate reward. But the spirit 
of charity, which is tender humanity, — is in the secret generosity, — in the 
service of individual hand and heart, — in the simple equity that renders unto 
each what is his own, — not by favor, but as the just due of lite and labor ! To 
pauperize, instead of to remunerate adequately, — to ignore obscure individual 
struggle, and speed manifest collective progression, — is the charity of the 
Pharisee, but not the humanity of the Christian, and the distinction has its 
timely lesson. The selfishness of Monopoly, the pitiless pressure of unscrupu- 
lous Competition, the hard hand of Capital lacking heart for Labor, take 
grace and glory from contemporaneous gratuities, — beneficent in a sense, yet 
serving egoism rather than true philanthropy, and therefore missing its meed 
of gratitude. Charity, by all means, my Gladys, wide and stintless charity, — 



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1903.] Joyce Josselypt, Sinner, 813 

but in the Name of our common Creator and Father, let it be the warm charity 
of human creature to fellow-creature, — of sister- and-brother-love I Love deals 
not in alms, but in generous wages. Love, averting, while it ma^p, the in- 
evitable curse of the institutional system, which parts child from mother aii4 
wife from husband, — feeds the heart-warming fires of humble home-hearth- 
stones, and sustains the family-life ! It is the charity of personal, not proxical 
service. The field may be smaller, the good seed circumscribed ; but a har- 
vest of social amity — of class-and-mass friendship, — will be the rich and pro- 
lific result I 

In the field of Society, Humanity is still more conspicuous for its absence! 
What spirit of charity permeates the social atmosphere wherein all claim room 
at the top ? What standard of Christianity is sustained in the struggle for 
the throne of success and the crown of supremacy ? Not man against man, 
but woman against woman, in the rivalry of the worldling, and the selfish 
strife of jealous and therefore cruel vanity 1 Yet the social ph^se of humap 
existence is justified only as the medium of sympathetic communion and con- 
verse, — of common helpfulness and extended noble influence, — of the message 
of the few to the many ! Ah, precious but wasted opportunity, — bartered 
birthright, and squandered heritage ! A mad world, my Gladys, this world ot 
Society, in its souMack of Godliness, its heart-lack of Humanity 1 — But if 
these be forlorn causes, then the third is a lost cause, — ^the cause of social 

SIMPLICITY. 

The masculine instinct is for the simple life, — perhaps by vice of surviving 
sex-savagery. Therefore, up to a certain point, civilized woman's elaboration 
is good and well ; but of over-elaboration comes sybaritism. 

All the woe of riches is in illegitimate self-indulgence. Save for excep- 
tional cases called to rare and high vocations, the rule of life adjusted to tem- 
poral means, serves mankind, and is therefore exemplary. If all were 
ascetics, much of the prodigal bounty of the earth would be unutilized, — much 
of the sweetness of life untasted, much of the beauty of art lost, — and such is 
not the good God's providence I But the sin against heaven, the wrong to 
humanity, begins, when epicureanism demoralizes by sensualizing refined 
civilization, and superfluity takes the place of sufliciency. A mansion may be 
a home, but in the republican palace, the master is a stranger ! The extrava- 
gant feast sates, where the temperate meal stimulates ! The formal function 
exhausts, where simple social life vitalizes. And so on and on to the end. 
There is waste, — wicked waste, wanton waste obtaining under sign of present 
social ideals, — waste of soul upon the carnality falsely posing as aesthetics, — 
waste of mind that should be earnest, on banal frivolities, — waste of life in ex- 
cesses that are evil folly, not pleasure ; waste of time in vacuous idleness, 
which is the ignoble misuse of leisure, — waste of wealth in effeminate sumptu- 
ousness of environment and living, — waste of everything under heaven that 
should serve God and mankind I Stand against the artificial life, for the life 
nearer Nature / For this one social reform at least, the hour is ripe, America 
ready I The sons of plain-living, high-thinking national makers, — the patriots, 
heroes, pioneers, of a past generation, — chafe under existing exotic conditions, 
and vent nature in vicious outbreaks. Even women are wearying at last, of 
the passing show and the smart routine, and reach out wildly, like restless 



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8l4 JOYCE JOSSELYN, SINNER. [Sept., 

diildren, for any sensation promising relief from monotony. Then, in God's 
Name, for man's good, for the honor of Catholic womanhood in the present, 
and the salvation of American womanhood in the future, prove by consistent 
practice, more convincing than theory, that wealth can live suitably ^ yet 
simply / It is the lesson the New World needs at this fateful crisis, to save it 
from the contagion of Old World decadence ; and to give it, you must be in 
tbough not ^society, since the recluse, as a social reformer, necessarily fails her 
fe^. Yet take Society not as it is, but make it what it should be, my Gladys, 
with the ideals of Godliness^ Humanity, and Simplicity before you ! This will 
be social life fulfilling Catholic conviction, — and no higher word can be said I 

I have finished, and you know now, my dear ideals. Are you surprised 
that my Godliness is not more specifically Catholic, — my Humanity more 
zealous for Catholic charities ? The duty of Catholicity is to universal human- 
ity, but charity, I admit, begins at home ! Then, since by original civiliza- 
tion, — by up-to-date naturalization of cosmopolitan emigration, — America, by 
divine right should be a Catholic country, the chief claim upon Catholic wealth 
tf to-day is the claim, both in active and preparatory phases, of the apostolic 
missions I Next, perhaps, comes the claim of the worlcs of corporal mercy, 
whose active sisterhoods respond to helpless human appeal. But the strenu- 
ous life which has made us practical, tempts our souls to forget that neither 
mission nor charity can dispense with the prayers of the contemplative Orders 
whose penance, too, like a protecting angelic wing, stretches between Divine 
wrath and sinners. I had hoped that you and I before I 'died, would have 
sown from coast to coast, in our main hot-beds of crime, the redeeming seed 
of the saintly Carmelite monastery, and its intercessory and atoning kind. 
But what / have failed, you will fulfil, my Gladys ! Girl -heart, girl-hands, does 
Ihe task appal you ? Then share with some true man your noble burden. 
Wise marriage will be your sweet duty ! 

I fear for you neither fortune-hunter, nor titled rou6. You will recognize 
the true, and reject the spurious, by the soul-grace of intuition ! Yet light 
fancy seems love to romantic girlhood; so measure each man by your vision 
of life, and the part your wealth plays in it, claiming fine comprehension and 
the response of perfect sympathy, before you consider sentiment. Then, ask 
your soul if it strains in resistless unison with human attraction, — test your 
heart by your higher spirit ! If the answer is yes, then love will have spoken ; 
and you need not fear to obey. Against only one peril I am inspired to warn 
you — an impossible ideal, — an unattainable standard, — which is the temptation 
of maiden innocence. My Gladys, mortal men are imperfect by nature, and 
the strongest characters not only have the strongest youthful temptations, but 
oft-times the deepest falls ! Yet, while not to have sinned would be almost 
God-like, to sin and repent and redeem and rebound again, soaring on surer 
wings towards the heights because the depths have been penetrated, — this is 
manhood, no whit less noble for error ! Remember that 

** Men may rise on stepping-stones 

Of their dead selves to higher things I " 

With love unto death and beyond it, my Gladys, 

Your father, friend, and comrade, 

Boyle Broderick. 



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I903-J Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 815 

" Well ? " faltered Gladys, after a long, long silence. For 
Joyce, shutting the little red book, had not spoken. 

But silence still reigned, and she glanced up timidly. Then 
she saw that his lips were trembling. 

" Oh, you are touched," she cried, softly, with a rush of 
sweet heart-tears. " You appreciate him ! You are thinking, I 
know, all that such a father must ,have been to me ! '' 

" I am thinking," Joyce answered, " that of such a daugh- 
ter of such a father, I am so unworthy that I am afraid, Gladys, 
afraid ! " 

" Am I not afraid, too, Joyce ? " she asked him humbly, 
" In the past, I think I have been more or less of a problem 
to you. You did not understand my social attitude, — my 
study, — my interest in Hans Kaufmann and his social causes, 
— ^and in poor Dick Dawson's dear old Croesus of a father, 
who is my convert to Christian Wealth's sweet gospel ! But 
this little red book explains the mystery, and you know 
now why I feared a lonely future. I could not have fulfilled 
his ideals alone. But you, Joyce, — you will lead me, and 
help me ! " 

In that instant, Joyce attained the strenth imputed to him. 
The trust she reposed in him, compelled his worthiness. Boy- 
ish weakness died out of his face forever. In its place flashed 
manliness, — ^proud, protective, strong, tender I His arm encircled 
her masterfully. 

" Little girl," he demanded, " do you really trust me ? " 

"I love you," she fluttered, half- coquette, half sweet wo- 
man. 

''Do you believe in me, at last, without one doubt or mis- 
giving ? " 

" I love you ! ' Her blush and smile trembled against his 
coat. 

" With your heart, — with your soul ? With full faith ? With- 
out fear?" 

" I LOVE you ! — Oh, Joyce, don't you know that just love 
means everything ? Let it answer all the questions between 
us!" 

With his arm still about her, he sat in deep thought; his 
face bowed^ his eyes misted, yet radiant. How to declare his 
soul, — how to translate his ecstatic heart-throbs! For once 
Joyce's facile speech failed him. 



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8i6 Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. [Sept., 

It was so grand, so noble, so immortal in issue, — the vision 
of perfect life opened to him, — the beautiful future, towards 
which the past had led him by such devious and crooked ways ! 
From remorse, he was straining to resolve, which is higher. 
Darkly, dimly he discerned God's plan in permitting evil; and 
groped towards the truth that since God is Goodness, in the 
end good must reign supreme! From his sin, from the folly 
of youth and its selfishness, his life emerged like a star from 
darkness, its light gaining brilliance against its black back- 
ground, — the clear sky before it more cloudless by contrast 
with retreating shadow and storm He foretasted the noble joy, 
the pure sweetness of love and labor, as life must blend them 
for the man who would call Gladys Broderick his ** wife ! " 
There are hours for every soul, when God's vista of life 
before sin entered Eden, is its mystical grace of vision. Such 
an hour was Joyce's now ; and its grace would abide with 
him in vivid and inspiring memory. 

" Oh, Gladys," he cried, and his face said the rest. 

" Yes, Joyce," she responded, as if he had spoken. " It is 
going to be beautiful, isn't it?" 

" How soon ? " he asked, roguishly. Then he drew her 
closer and whispered. " Sweetheart, Father Martin must marry 
us, — and dear old Stephen — yes, Stephen shall dance at the 
wedding ! " 

^' Siepfienf she echoed. Over her face flickered a gentle 
shadow, — not of sorrow, but of tender reverence. No, — her love- 
song should not jar on Stephen's psalm of life, — he must never 
be asked to witness her marriage to Joyce, — renunciative, ex- 
alted Stephen ! She foresaw him as he would appear in the 
near future, wearing the black robe, the white heart, the char- 
acteristic crucifix of the pathetic Passionist habit! Such was 
the real Stephen, the true Stephen, the Stephen God had fore- 
known, and his own strong youth, his pure and earnest man- 
hood, prophesied I From the first, had not his grave face with 
its pallor illumed from within, seemed to consecrate him even 
visibly ? His passing phase of man-love for woman, his tran- 
sient struggle between nature and grace, had but confirmed his 
vocation, and perfected his priesthood, since heart alone sways 
humanity I 

Waiving the subject for the present, lest Joyce should ques- 
tion her, — for Stephen's avowal of love was her soul's sacred 



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1903] Joyce Josselyn, Sinner. 817 

secret, — she gave sweet consent to the tender suggestion which 
tradition bids even willing maids parry. 

" Yes, Joyce," her voice tembled, in awe of its own conces- 
sion. "Yes,— dear Father Martin shall — marry us." 

Between Joyce, too, and the world, its white glory radiated. 
The love- sphere, at start, is supremely isolated. Its orbit ro- 
tates towards the common groove, but first, it must span its 
own heaven ! 

So, all in all in each other, and lost in love's dream, Joyce 
and Gladys were in happy unconsciousness that the priest whom 
they loved, and who dearly loved them, was in stress between 
joy and sorrow. 

Yet so it was, in this hour, with Father Martin. At his 
desk in the library so familiar to Joyce and Stephen, he sat 
with face bowed on his arms, and alone save for angels, taking 
silent farewell of his Maintown-life, his dear people, his home, 
the rectory. 

For the honors he had not sought had been thrust upon 
him, and the pastor's obscure day was over. 

The baretta of the priest, was overshadowed by the mitre ! 
— Father Martin had been called to a Bishopric! 

(THE END.) 




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She Sign op ©bags. 

To E, A. C. 
BY MARY E. GAFFNEY. 

[HROBBING and trembling on the sunset's breast, 
A clear, white blaze amid the rose-gold glow. 
One pure, transcendent jewel, pendant low. 
Draws wearied eyes unto the dying West. 
And, upward, as toward a mountain's crest, 
Leaving the day's small striving far below, 
My soul mounts joyfully, with peace aglow. 
Borne upon airy pinions soft with rest. 
So from this star to which my soul aspires, 
Remote, enduring, splendid as of old^ 
I learn the secret of security — ^ 
That in Hope's flame, burning when other fires. 
Earth -kindled, fade to gray, man shall behold 
The primal sign of Immortality. 

Salem ^ Mass. 




^ILD FLOWBF^S. 

BY LOUISE FRANCES MURPHY. 

I RIM ghosts of burnt- out forests, bleak and lone, 
Stand bare against the crimson of the sky; 
Great boulders in their stoic grandeur lie. 
Whilst here and there, beside some mighty stone, 
wild- rose in its radiant beauty blown, 
group of daisies, and blue maiden's eye. 
And immortelles, and thistles, careless thrown ! 
Deserted birch-thatched cabins face the sun, 
Their owners long have vanished, one by one. 
Far in the distance lies each Indian grave 
Where the blue waters of the Huron wave; 
They were the flowers flung with careless art. 
The strange wild flowers of the forest's heart ! 

St. Louis, Mo, 




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1903.] A Puzzle Explained, &19 




A PUZZLE EXPLAINED. 

(FRANCE IN igoj.) 
BY^. WILLIAM SETON, LL.D. 

|T is generally admitted that nothing is harder to 
find than the truth, and after it is found it is 
often unpleasant to tell. For speaking the truth 
may cost us the good will of not a few persons 
whose esteem we value, especially when it shat- 
4:ers some idol that has been fondly worshipped. And now in 
explaining how a Catholic country like France has fallen into 
the power of the enemies of the church, it is possible that 
jnany Catholics may not agree. with us. But we mean well 
by what we write, nor shall we forget what Leo XIII. said 
about going to the very sources when we wish to refute error, 
and that towards nobody ought we to show either flattery or 
animosity.* Having said this, we ask the reader to go back 
fifty years in the history of France. Louis Napoleon — better 
known as the Emperor Napoleon III. — has just broken the 
oath he took to support the republic, and by what is called a 
coup d'etat has made himself sole ruler of the country. There 
is still left, it is true, a Corps Legislatif and a Senate, but 
they do little more than carry out the emperor's wishes and 
play quite an insignificant part in the government. But the 
spirit of liberty has been only smothered, it is not dead ; and 
now let us fix our attention on two distinguished men, whose 
names are known to all Catholics. One is Charles de Mon- 
talembert, author of the Life of St. Elizabeth of Hungary and 
The Monks of the West ; the other is Louis Veuillot, editor 
of a newspaper called the Univers. They are both sincerely 
devoted to the interests of the church, but differ widely in 
their political views. It is in our opinion mainly owing to 
the triumph of the precepts of Louis Veuillot that the Catho- 
lics of France are what they are to-day. Montalembert was 
not a republican, but he favored a limited monarchy where the 

• Leo Xin. on Historical Studies, August, 1883. 



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820 A Puzzle Explained. [Sept, 

voice of the people might make itself heard. Louis Veuillot, 
on the contrary, maintained that the best government for a 
Catholic people was a paternal one: where the king — in close 
touch with the clergy — should have absolute sway ; never, of 
course, oppressing his subjects, but ruling them as a loving 
father might rule his children. Needless to say the doctrines 
inculcated by the Univers were very pleasing to Napoleon III., 
while the bishops and clergy, with few exceptions, approved of 
a system of fatherly government. Hence almost from the first 
days of the empire Montalembert was looked upon askance, 
while the great Catholic paper, the Univers, found subscribers 
in the remotest hamlets. If we turn to the Univers of Decem- 
ber 26, 185 1, we read: '' France will reject parliamentarism as 
she has rejected Protestantism, or she will perish in the effort 
to cast it off." And when the emperor confiscated the prop- 
erty of the Orleans Family,* and offered 5,000,000 francs of 
the proceeds of the sale to the bishops (a good many of whom 
accepted the money), Louis Veuillot could see nothing scanda- 
lous either in the confiscation or in the prelates taking a share 
of the 5,000,000 francs. Yet one archbishop, to whom Mon- 
talembert had written and urged not to touch any of the ill- 
gotten money, must have felt a slight twinge of conscience, for 
in his answer to Montalembert he said: "The act of spoliation 
was an iniquity . . . ; but the good of the church requires 
us above all to stay in peace with the ruling power. We 
shall be dishonored, but we must accept the dishonor in the 
interest of the church." f 

But while Montalembert deeply regretted that so many of 
his former friends and associates were turning their backs on 
him, he kept up his courage, nor did he allow what was writ- 
ten in the Univers to go unanswered. The paternal form of 
government, where the people were to do nothing except toil 
and pray and be as docile as little children, was to his far- 
seeing eye fraught with danger, and accordingly he wrote a 
pamphlet entitled : " Les int^rets Catholiques au XIX. si^cle," 
in which he reviewed the history of the church in France since 
Napoleon I. He showed how the church had triumphed over 
great obstacles, and he attributed her escape from the fetters 
which kings and emperors strove to throw around her — to 



• The younger branch of the Bourbons. 

t For the full text of this letter see Montalembert's Journal Intime. 



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1903.] A PUZZLE Explained. 821 

liberty. He then goes on to tell Catholics that a representa- 
tive form of government is the only government possible in 
our age» and he concludes with these words: "The cause of 
absolutism is a lost cause. Woe to those who would bind this 
decrepit idol to the immortal interests of religion." Seldom 
have we read anything finer than this heart- stirring appeal; 
we might really call it a foreshadowing of the Encyclical — 
Immortale Dei of Leo XIII. But it immediately roused the 
editor of the Univers to a vigorous response; and we must 
confess that never before did paternal rule, absolute monarchy, 
find so able a defender as it found in Louis Veuillot. His 
several replies are well worth reading. But they are too long 
to quote, and we must refer the reader to the Univers of the 
1st, 6th, and 13th of November, 1852, and especially to two 
articles entitled "De la liberty sous Tabsolutisme," in the 
Univers of November 17 and 18 of the same year. In these 
articles the ideal government for Catholics is declared to be a 
government like that of Louis XIV. And a few months after- 
wards, in the Univers of March 30, 1853, Louis Veuillot goes 
so far as to say : " . . . the ideal principle of liberty is 
anti- Christian."* And again in the paper of January 5, 1854, 
we read, " Kings and emperors are the depositories of Provi- 
dence; to Providence alone need they render an account of 
what they do." As we might expect, the Tsar of Russia and 
the Emperor Napoleon smiled and clasped hands over these 
articles. But nothing pleased the French ruler so much as the 
following, which appeared in the Univers of January 28 of the 
same year : " He (the emperor) has nothing seriously to fear 
from his adversaries, whose stubbornness it is pitiful to behold. 
Against this disordered band two armies are joined together in 
the defense of his cause . . . ; one is composed of 400,000 
soldiers, . . . and the other is the army of charity, com- 
posed of 40,000 priests and 50,000 religious." This .<?trenuous 
writing in behalf of paternal government, and the hearty recep- 
tion it met with among the majority of the clergy and laity, 
caused Montalembert to have grave fears for the future, for the 
enemies of the church and the empire might one day come in- 
to power, and in a letter dated December 14, 1854, he wrote 
as follows to the historian Cesare Cantu : " I confess it is 
enough to discourage us when we see the defense of Catholic 

* " Le principe id^al de la liberty est anti-Chretien." 



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822 A Puzzle Explained. [Sept., 

liberty in the past and the present confided to organs like the 
Univers. . . . The renaissance of Catholicity is in our day 
seriously compromised by this fanatical and servile school which 
seeks to identify religion everywhere with despotism. A for- 
midable reaction is coming; still, we must remain true to our 
flag, which is that of justice, truth, and liberty." The words 
" A formidable reaction is coming " were prophetic. The re- 
action, however, was still far off; the benefits of paternal 
government were scarcely disputed in Catholic circles, and a well- 
known preacher, Father Ventura, in a sermon delivered in the 
Court Chapel during Lent, 1858, actually compared the resur- 
rection of the empire to the resurrection of our Saviour.* But 
if Montalembert had now few friends, he did have one who 
heartily shared his views in behalf of liberty, and in almost the 
last letter which the great Dominican, Lacordaire, wrote to 
him, and which is dated April 13, 1861, he said: "We have 
not been among those who, after they had demanded liberty 
for all, the liberty of souls, liberty civil, political, and religious, 
have hoisted the flag ... of Philip II., have taken back 
unblushingly all that they had written, . . . have brought 
dishonor on the church, and have saluted Caesar and despotism 
with acclamations which would have excited the scorn of 
Tiberius." Nor does Lacordaire in this letter overstate the 
facts. Indeed, so imbued with Paternalism did some French 
abbes become in the end, that they actually doubted whether a 
man who held Montalembert's views on self-government and 
liberty in opposition to the orthodox precepts of Louis Vcuillot, 
could be at heart a Catholic; and for this well-nigh incredible 
fact we refer the reader to Pfere Lecanuet's work, vol. iii., p. 362. 
We have now arrived at the Franco- German war of 1870- 
71. Montalembert is dead, the empire has fallen, and the 
people of France, suddenly deprived of their ruler, are left to 
choose between the Comte de Chambord, who might reign as 
King Henry V., and a republic. This was indeed a momen- 
tous crisis in the life of the nation, and a careful reading of a 
work lately written by Gabriel Hanotaux, entitled Histoire de 
la France Contemporaine^ 1871-1900^ strongly inclines us to 
believe that had not the great body of Catholics, by long years 
of paternal rule, become unfitted to take part in political 
affairs, they might thirty years ago have founded in France a 

^Montalembert. By Rev. P. Lecanuet. Vol. iii., p. 87. 



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1903.] A Puzzle Explained. 823 

Christian Commonwealth after the heart of Leo XIII. In the 
above mentioned book, p. 76, Hanotaux, speaking of the con- 
dition of France immediately after the war, says : " The Re- 
public was at the first hour the child of reality and of neces- 
sity."* And further on, p. 135, where he describes the 
National Assembly held at Bordeaux, he says: "The restora- 
tion of the legitimate monarchy, resting on Catholic doctrines, 
the willing submission to the will of the king, these were the 
aspirations of the most ardent, if not the most numerous mem- 
bers who formed the majority (of the Assembly). In the long 
period of aloofness (from political affairs), the experience of 
life and of its realities being wanting, these generations had 
become attached with an immoderate ardor to the doctrines 
and principles of absolutism." 

And even after the Comte de Chambord had positively re- 
fused the crown unless the tricolor flag were changed to the 
white flag of the Bourbons, even then the laity and clergy did 
not give up the hope that in some way and from somewhere 
a king, an emperor, a one- man ruler of some kind might be 
sent to them in their dire distress. But while these good peo- 
ple were praying and going on pilgrimages and looking for a 
miracle to be wrought in their behalf, the number of French- 
men who were determined at all hazards to found a republic, 
was every day increasing; and, unhappily, these persons were 
too often lukewarm Catholics, some of them were even atheists. 
And at length it came to pass that when the republic was 
constituted, it was mainly anti-Christian ; and the Catholics — 
too childlike to protect themselves — were from this hour like a 
flock of sheep in the midst of wolves. Verily, the paternal 
school has a great deal to answer for. When it crushed Mon- 
talembert it crushed manhood ; and for the way it persecuted 
this noble defender of liberty and of religion, we refer the 
reader to the third volume of Pere Lecanuet's work. The Lon- 
don Tablet of June 27, 1903, contains an address by Mgr. 
Turinaz, Bishop of Nancy, in which the bishop says: "Do the 
Catholics of France wish to take advantage of the rights which 
still remain to them and to defend with energy those which 
are being assailed ? Does the French people wish to be re- 
spected, honored, and free, or a gang of slaves bent down 
under a servitude which may become worse and worse?" 

* La R^publique fut \ la premiere heure, fille de la r^alitd et de la n^cessitd." 



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824 A Puzzle Explained. [Sept., 

Alas! Why were not these words spoken a generation ago? 
Again in the London Tablet for July ii, of this same year, 
the Right Rev. Abbot Gasquet, O.S.B., wonders how the 
Catholics of France can allow the government to treat them 
as it does, and the learned abbot goes on to say : " At the 
bottom of all is apathy, against which Montalembert raised a 
warning voice forty years ago." And Dom Gasquet mentions 
the great Catholic congress held at Malines in August, 1863, 
where the immortal author of The Monks of the West, warned 
Catholics not to be so backward and timid as they stood face 
to face with modern society, and implored them not to cling 
to a regime which admitted neither civil equality, nor political 
freedom, nor liberty of conscience. But Dom Gasquet, after 
referring to Montalembert's notable address at Malines (there 
were in fact two addresses), does not go on to tell how this 
very address, filled with noble thoughts and aspirations for a 
union of religion with liberty, gave such mortal offense to 
many of the crowned heads of Europe and to the paternal 
school, whose precepts had by this time honeycombed the 
whole Catholic body, that the bishop of Poitiers at once sent 
his vicar- general to Rome to denounce Montalembert* And 
the outcry against him was loud indeed. But here it may be 
interesting to quote from Mgr. d'Hulst's excellent article in 
the Correspondant for September 25, 1891, in which Montalem- 
bert*s two addresses at Malines are critically examined. Mgr. 
d'Hulst says: " Un theologien qui ferait Tanalyse impartiale de 
ses discours de 1863 pour les comparer aux documents du 
Saint-Si^ge, a Tencyclique Quanta Cura de Pie IX., i Tency- 
clique Immortale Dei de Leon XIII., aurait peine, croyons 
nous, a extraire des pages de Torateur une seule proposition 
contraire aux enseignements pontificaux." 

But the real root of the trouble was that the Emperor 
Napoleon did not relish what the great orator had said, and it 
was the emperor's disapproval even more than the disapproval 
of the paternal school, of which Louis Veuillot was the 
acknowledged head, which caused so many over- conservative, 
timid souls, forty years ago, to ask for Montalembert's condemna- 
tion at Rome. And it is because this timid, over- conservative 
spirit still prevails among the Catholics of France, that a com- 
paratively small number of irreligious men are able, in I903,^ta 

^ Afontaiembert. By Rev. P^re Lecanuet. Vol. iii,, p. 363, 



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1903.] A Puzzle Explained. 825 

rule the country. Manhood, a love of self-government, was for 
a whole generation discouraged, we might almost say looked 
upon as sinful ; Paternalism triumphed, and now we see its 
baneful fruit. But not only has this effeminate school unfitted 
the Christian people of France for taking their own part in life 
and for fighting to maintain their God-given rights, we may 
reasonably believe, too, that the torpor which was engendered 
has more or less affected their intelligence. Otherwise, how 
could so many French Catholics have fallen into the trap which 
the impostor, Leo Taxil, laid for them a few years ago, and 
become the victims of the greatest hoax of the nineteenth cen- 
tury ? • 

And why — when that estimable Catholic lady, Mme. Marie 
du Sacr^ Coeur de Jesus, wished to improve the teaching in the 
convent schools of France — why did so many good people mis- 
understand her and beg to have her silenced by the church 
authorities ? Would intelligent Catholics have acted thus ? We 
cannot deny that what we have written brings a grave charge 
against more than one well-known name. But it is surely no 
trivial matter to lower a great Christian nation down to the 
level where France is to-day. We have told the truth. And 
may the Catholics of the other countries of Europe take a 
solemn warning. Democracy is on the march. Let us see to 
it that the coming republics of the twentieth century are not, 
like unhappy France (through an undue reverence on our part for 
a dead and buried past), bom out of the fold of Christ. And 
now, as a very last word we refer the reader to the back num- 
bers of the Univers which we have mentioned ; to Montalem- 
bert's Journal Intinte ; to Rev. P. Lecanuet's three volumes, 
entitled Montalembert ; and to Gabriel Hanotaux' work, La 
France Contemporainey 187 1- 1900. 

* Leo Taxil's story The Mythical Diana Vaughan and Satan. 




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<? <5 IDiews anb IReviews, ^ <^ 



1. — We have received for review the new volumes of the En^ 
cyclopedia Britannica^^ eleven in number, which, together with 
the twenty-four volumes of the Ninth Edition, constitute the 
tenth edition of this encyclopaedia. The work is a wonderful 
evidence of the power of the human intellect and the extent of 
human knowledge. Writers of every clime and nationality have 
contributed to its pages; a most scrupulous care has been 
exercised in its editing, and every means exhausted in order 
not to leave a topic of knowledge untouched. In its compila- 
tion men of recognized ability, specialists all over the world, 
have been employed, and the printer's art in the way of illus- 
tration has been utilized to the full. Some idea of the mag- 
nitude of the work may be reached when it is known that the 
present edition includes more than 28,cx^o pages, and more 
than 12,000 plates of maps, of famous paintings, of machinery, 
and numerous other illustrations. The tenth edition in its 
eleven volumes alone contains 10,000 articles by 1,000 con- 
tributors (all of these are signed), and 25,000 new maps, plates, 
portraits, and other illustrations. These volumes contain con- 
stant reference to the previous edition. The index to the 
whole work is so thorough and exhaustive as to be simply 
amazing. How such a herculean task could be done, and 
done so well, almost passes comprehension. In this new index 
there are over 600,000 entries. That alone gives one a fair 
notion of what an invaluable work of reference the EncycldpcBdia 
Britannica is as it stands to-day. The work has been brought 
up to date, particularly in matters biographical, and the great- 
est care taken to secure the most recent and reliable informa- 
tion on matters scientific. Perhaps in these subjects and on 
that of physical geography the work has its greatest value. 
At the end of every article there is a short bibliography, which 
will be of special assistance to the thorough student. 

Beyond taking a survey of the work as a whole and its 
general plan, we have looked into the first volume (vol. xxv.) 
from A-Aus. The volume supports in a detailed way the 
general claim of the editors. The latest facts are given in the 

* Encyclop€Bdia Britannica. New volumes, constituting, with the volumes of the Ninth, 
the Tenth Edition. New York : The Encyclopaedia Britannica Company. 



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1903.] Views and Reviews. Z27 

matter of population, of economic and social conditions, and of 
science ; one of the illustrations shows Professor Langley's new 
air- ship. Perhaps one might take exception to the brevity 
manifested in the religious history, and religious statistics of 
the great countries, such as Africa, Asia, Australia. 

The articles on Scriptural subjects will be found to embrace 
the conclusions rather of the higher critics, but the Encyclopaedia 
will at least give a student a good insight into their claims and 
their arguments. 

In the article on Lord Acton it is stated that he supported 
Gladstone in the Vatican controversy of 1874. The truth is 
that Lord Acton took exception to Gladstone and answered 
him in those letters to the Times of November and December, 
1874. His answer may not have been of the best, but never- 
theless he took exception to Mr. Gladstone. It may be well ta 
notice also that under "Anglican Communion" the writer in 
the Encyclopaedia states that ** the Protestant Episcopal Church 
of the United States is in full communion with the Church of 
England " ; that statement doesn't hold water now after the 
writing of Bishop Potter to the zealous Mr. Fillingham. The 
article on Anglican orders has a distinctively Anglican bias, and 
we might say unfairness. It surely is not true to write that 
the Roman decision has not met with full approval from learned 
men in that communion. Not only has it met with their ap- 
proval but also with that of other men of historical learning 
who have no cause to plead or attitude to sustain. 

The Encyclopaedia, so thoroughly developed since its inception 
in 1 768, has now reached such proportions that it constitutes a 
necessary work for all libraries of reference, or rather for all 
libraries where' investigation and study are to b6 done. We 
will continue further notice of the other volumes. 

^—The Life of Leo XIIL* by Mgr. Bernard O'Reilly, 
is one of the best that has been produced. The author had 
incomparable advantages in prosecuting the work. He was in- 
vited to Rome by Cardinal Parocchi, and made the official 
biographer of Leo XIH. The Pope furnished him with all 
kinds of personal information, and corrected the chapters of the 
first edition as they came from the hands of the author. Be- 

^ Life of Leo XIIL Fiom an authentic Memoir furnished by his Order. Written with 
the approbation and encouragement of His Holiness. By Right Rev. Bernard O'Reilly. 
Chicago and Philadelphia : The John C. Winston Company. 
VOL. LXXVII.— 53 



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828 V/EIVS AND REVIEWS. [Sept., 

sides that, Mgr. O'Reilly's long life and extraordinarily rich 
and varied experience fit him to be an exceptionally capable 
judge of the character, achievements, and historical importance 
of his subject. Almost as old as Leo himself, his views on 
events in the great Pope's life, that are now part of history, 
have the freshness of those of an eye-witness and the ripeness 
of those of a sage. He has the first requisite of a good biogra- 
pher of a great man, the ability properly to appreciate greatness. 

For Leo XIIL was truly great. Every perusar of the story 
of his career puts this in stronger light. From the child of 
twelve already dexterous with Latin prose and verse, to the 
frail seminarist, keen of intellect, pious of soul, and thirsty for 
learning ; to the governor of a province at the age of twenty- 
eight; to the zealous bishop attracting the world's attention 
by the brilliancy of his pastorals and the intrepidity of his pro- 
tests against an un- Christian government; to the cardinal who 
begged in conclave that the supreme Pontificate be not con- 
ferred on him ; to the Pope dear to the heart of the world for 
his benevolence, his gentleness, his ardor for God, his venera- 
ble age, and his sublime death ; from first to last, Joachim 
Pecci either bears the promise or displays the mature and 
abundant fruit of one of the first of men, both by endowments 
of nature and by gifts of grace. We cannot yet adequately 
estimate his place in the final verdict of history ; we cannot 
say how all of his official acts will appear when viewed in the 
perspective of many years; but beyond peradventure we are 
safe in declaring him to be a great Pope, and a providential mes- 
senger to an age that seeks too tardily the things that are above. 

Before concluding our commendation of Mgr. O'Reilly's 
volume, we cannot forbear quoting him on a matter which was 
made the occasion by many, who were either hostile to or 
jealous of our country, of flinging against American Catholics 
the charge of unsoundness in the faith. A propos of " Ameri- 
canism,-' our author says : " The parties who endeavored to 
embroil the church in a controversy over a thing of doubtful 
actuality — at least in America — were much the same as those 
who had tried to make mischief over the Cahensly movement 
and the Washington University rectorship. They found a 
pliant instrument in the person of the Abbe Maignen, a French 
priest who had incurred the censure of the Archbishop of Paris 
for a vile attack upon the Count de Mun. . . . The Abbe 
Maignen was got to publish his pamphlet attacking the ortho- 



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1903.] Views and Reviews. 829 

doxy of Father Hecker, and accusing the two American bishops 
named, as well as Cardinal Gibbons, of being accomplices of 
such rebellious priests as Charbonnel and Bourrier, as well as 
members of an American syndicate to * float an American saint 
in Europe.' . . . The Pope acted without hesitation and with 
rare judgment. . . . The result was the despatch of a letter 
to Cardinal Gibbons deprecating such doctrines and tendencies as 
were attributed to Father Hecker, yet not asserting that they 
were proved to have been certainly his. To this letter the 
Cardinal and the rest of the American prelates dutifully replied, 
for the most part, in a manner to prove to the Sovereign Pon- 
tiff that the pamphlet was unreliable. . . . That the Pontiff 
himself was completely satisfied of the groundlessness of those 
fears that had drawn forth dismal forewarnings in Europe was 
made manifest in the unequivocal terms of the reply sent by 
Leo to his American children (on the occasion of his twenty- 
fifth anniversary as Pope). He thanked them and blessed 
them and declared his complete confidence in their fidelity and 
love." And regarding the Pope's extraordinary encomium upon 
the non-Catholic mission movement, our author says : " Noth- 
ing could be more conclusive of the complete restoration of 
confidence in the Holy Father's heart respecting the soundness 
and loyalty of the American church." 

3. — Father Hamon's Beyond the Grave,* is worthy of a 
second edition in which it has just appeared. It treats of sub- 
jects as useful to the mind as they are edifying to the soul — 
Death, Judgment, and the Life of Beatitude. The book is full 
of Holy Scripture and amply furnished with citations, some 
of them admirably chosen too, from the early Fathers. A 
great many merely theological opinions are introduced, but so 
far as we have observed, the author carefully refrains from 
designating ' them as de fide. Innumerable examples also are 
given from the lives of the saints, along with a multitude of 
miracles, some of which we should like to see eliminated. 
Father Hamon is a consoling author. He has no harrowing 
chapter on the small number of the elect, and in his benevo- 
lent view of the state of unbaptized infants, he withdraws him- 
self from the tortores infantum who have brought so much 
approbrium upon orthodox theology. In answering the ques- 
tion. Why are there religious vocations ? our author startles us 

* Beyond the Grave. From the French of Rev. E. Hamon, S.J. By Anna T. Sadlier. 
Second edition. St. Louis : B. Herder. 



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830 Views and Reviews, [Sept., 

with his commercial view of the matter. People enter religion, 
hie declares, because they '* desire to have a large fortune in 
^heaven. They are possessed by the same ambition for heavenly 
'^goods that other men have for the goods of earth. The more 
they amass, the greater will be their eternal beatitude, and 
they labor unweariedly to increase their spiritual riches, as a 
merchant toils to acquire a fortune.*' This, taken as it stands, 
is less a glorification than a degradation of the consecrated 
life. In the divine summons of a soul there is something nobler 
than the market-prudence just described by Father | Hamon. 

Still there is a great deal, as we have intimated, to com- 
mend in this book. If there are no profound reflections, there 
are many stimulating suggestions ; if there is no brilliant style 
there is a healthy, homely vigor; if we cannot call it a great 
work, we must allow that it is a good and helpful one. 

4 — Mr. Dos Passos* book* on the union of all English- 
speaking peoples is the best presentation of that curious sub- 
ject that we have ever seen. It is moderate in tone, reasona- 
ble in the hopes it proffers, and is not without a certain philo- 
sophic breadth of view in appreciating past history and in 
forecasting conditions still to come. More than that, it is con- 
structed on principles of the loftiest morality. The author 
abhors any alliance that looks to conquest and tyranny. He 
wants no combination against other nations, whether on the 
field of war or in the markets of commerce. But solely be- 
cause he is convinced that the peace of the world and the 
civilization of mankind would be secured beyond peril by a 
union of England and the United States, and because he is 
of the opinion that upon these two countries rests the chief re- 
sponsibility of leading the less favored races of the earth to 
civil well-being and to Christian faith, therefore does he con- 
ceive it a kind of duty to promote an English-speaking federa- 
tion by all wise and honorable means. 

That there is much to say for such a view, let us not at- 
tempt to deny. Of course the phrase "Anglo-Saxon alliance," 
as designating a union of some sort between Britain and 
America, is grossly inexact. We are not a nation descended 
from Anglos and Saxons. Irish, Italian, French, Spanish, Pol- 
ish, and ever so many more races of men, have entered into 
modern American citizenship and have made of us far too 

• The Anglo-Saxon Century, and the Unification of the English-speaking People. By John 
R. Dos Passos. of the New York Bar. New York : G. P. Putnam's Sons. 



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1903.] VIEIVS AND REVIEWS. 83 1 

cosmopolitan a product to be fitly called "Anglo Saxons." 
Besides at the mere mention of Anglo-Saxonism, peculiar and 
acute racial antipathies are roused, which perhaps the mere 
dropping of that word would largely avert. But the question 
of name aside, we say that much that is solid and persuasive 
can be brought forward in support of an English speaking 
federation. The possession of a common language and litera- 
ture is as strong a tie as consanguinity itself would be. The 
practical oneness of English and American political ideals seems 
to open a very highway to concerted action in international 
policies. And, finally, the probability of future Slavic pre- 
dominance in Asia and Western Europe offers a justification 
for the coming together of the two peoples whose interests 
would most suffer, and whose civilization would be most op- 
posed by such a catastrophe as the spread of Russian autocracy. 

Unquestionably, too, religion would gain by the alliance. 
For nowhere is the church so prosperous and so free as be- 
neath the flags of England and the United States. We can no 
longer look with much exhilaration upon the condition of 
Catholicity in France, Italy, or Spain. Dare we even hope for 
better things there within a reasonably distant future? But 
with the English-speaking nations there is hope, there is vigor, 
there is so fair a prospect as to give us good ground for think- 
ing that God has reserved for us and for our kin the most 
splendid conquests that this truth has ever made. On the 
other hand, woe to Catholicity wherever Russia sets her stand- 
ard. That nation, say it we must, notwithstanding the many 
deeds of friendliness shown to our republic, is the bigoted per- 
secutor and fanatical hater of the church. It will be generations 
before the spirit of toleration will reach the shores of the Slav. 

We have not been advocating any sort of union between 
England and America. We are simply setting down some of 
the reasons which induce thoughtful men like Mr. Dos Passos 
to take that side of the question. Some of the best minds on 
both sides of the Atlantic have thought as our author thinks. 
Professor Dicey, James Bryce, Joseph Chamberlain, Sir Rich- 
ard Temple, Professor George B. Adams, Carl Schurz, Lyman 
Abbott, Richard Olney, and of course, Mr. Stead, have spoken 
strongly for a ** patriotism of race as well as of country," to 
use Mr. Olney's expression, and have declared that nothing 
would so promote the peace of the world, as a union of old 
England and young America. How could they come together ? 

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8j2 Views and Reviews. [Sept., 

On what platform would they stand ? Mr. Dos Passos sug- 
gests three principal lines of rapprochement. First, let . Canada 
by a voluntary act of her people come into the American 
union. Secondly, let a court of arbitration be formed for the 
settlement of all disputes. Thirdly, and perhaps most impor- 
tant of all, let there be a common citizenship between our- 
selves and England, so that a citizen of one country shall at 
once belong to the electorate of the other as soon as, or 
shortly after, he lands upon its shores. 

"Dreams, dreams!*' the hard-headed man will say to all 
this. The whole thing is a fine but impossible conceit. Na- 
tions are not moved by sentiment, and "ideals of humanity" 
have never yet been recognized at a cabinet meeting, or been 
known to have determined a foreign policy. There is, we too 
are of opinion, a good deal of dream stuff about the project ; 
but we by no means would place it in the region of the im- 
possible. If England and America ever unite, it will not be 
as the result of prudent calculation and generations of love- 
making. It will be because in the presence of some crisis they 
will see that their race-ideals and the genius of their constitu- 
tions demand union if they are to live. Such a crisis is im- 
probable but not impossible. It is very far in the future at ^ 
any rate, and if in germ it exists at all, it exists in the heart 
of Russia. This sort of English- American alliance, all men of 
either country would approve. Meantime, it may be better for 
each people to pursue its way and work toward its destiny 
alone. But books like this of Mr. Dos Passos' are worthy of 
the highest praise. They make for international friendship. 
They are another word against hatred and war. They are ex- 
pressions of a Christian and humane spirit, which console one 
in the midst of the prejudice of individuals and the corruption 
of nations. 

Mr. Dos Passos has a clear, strong style, which is generally 
pure of unworthy phraseology. It is too bad though that he 
allowed such a sentence as: "China . . . must be opened 
by the corkscrew of progress." And it would have been well 
had a Latinist corrected some of the classical quotations, for 
instance, " Cessat tatione, cessat lex'* and " inter amies, silent 
legesr 

6. — In the life * of Dr. Amherst, late bishop of Northamp- 

* Francis Kerril Amherst, D.D., Lord Bishop of Northampton, By Dame Mary Francis 
Roskell, O.S.B. London : Art and Book Company. 

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I-903.] Views and Reviews. 833 

ton, there is much to edify the Christian, but little to engage 
the historian. He lived a missionary priest and bishop in 
England, whose routine of ministerial duties was interrupted 
only by an occasional trip to the Continent, and whose career 
touched upon a great event only once, when he attended the 
Vatican Council. In fact, one wonders how this thick volume 
of nearly four hundred pages could have been written of a 
life so unobtrusive and simple. Bishop Amherst was born in 
1 8 19, being sprung from the two ancient Catholic families of 
the Amhersts and the Turvilles. He grew up in an affluent 
and pious household, was educated at Oscot, ordained by 
Nicholas Cardinal Wiseman, and by the same prelate conse- 
crated bishop at the age of thirty- nine. In 1879 ill- health 
caused him to resign his see, and he lived thereafter in tran- 
quil retirement until his death in 1883. Much of Dame Ros- 
kell's memoir consists of passages from Dr. Amherst's diary. 
Of these passages some contain judgments upon men and 
movements, which are interesting to the general reader, a few 
are clever turns of wit, but a great many are the common- 
places of a busy worker or impressionable tourist. One or two 
sayings particularly struck us. Once hearing an especially 
flagrant soprano solo during Mass, the bishop remarked of the 
performer : " Why, she is like Mary Magdalen before her con- 
version." He loved decorousness in church music, and ardently 
promoted congregational singing. ** It is most distasteful to 
me," he said, after an Easter Sunday rioting in the choir loft, 
'* to see the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass shattered, as it were, 
into fragments, and made a succession of pegs on which to 
hang a series of musical performances . . . while the ears 
of the audience — heaven save the mark! — are tickled, and their 
concert- loving propensities gratified." At another time, during 
an audience with Pius IX , he told the pope that he intended 
to enter a religious order. The Pontiff answered simply : 
" Religious orders are very good when they keep their rules." 
He thus describes an incident of the Council. *' We got home 
from a meeting of the Council, where we were almost stunned 
by a Swiss bishop who spoke for an hour, and roared as if 
he were talking from one mountain to another against wind 
and thunder." Evidently the bishops of the Council lived very 
strenuously during the sessions, for Dr. Amherst observes: 
"The Italians who are not accustomed to hard work, are at 
length seeing the necessity of it." Less to our liking; is his 

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834 VIEIVS AND REVIEWS, [Sept., 

expression of semi- disapprobation of the total abstinence move- 
ment. His words on the subject are so tame and prim as to 
leave us with the impression that he never could have known 
the horrors of intemperance, or felt the holy ardor to counter- 
act them which impelled Manning to some of his greatest 
work for souls. Bishop Amherst was a very embodiment of 
the conservative English character to which new departures are 
repugnant and enthusiasm is vulgar. But forever will mankind 
pass by stolid conventionalism to throng about energetic zeal. 

6, — Dogmatic Christianity would be precariously situated 
indeed if it had no better advocate against Harnack than Pro- 
fessor Cremer.* His work entirely misses the point of the 
Berlin scholar's thesis, is wholly uncritical in method, and 
opposes to the clear propositions of a master of history only 
the obscure involutions of a Lutheran theologian. Harnack*s 
position is patent to every one who has ever read him. It is, 
in substance, that the religion which Christ practised and 
taught has nothing whatever to do with the Person of Christ, 
His mission, or His enactments ; but consists wholly in the love 
of God our Father, the love of man our brother, and zeal for 
individual moral perfection. It is true, Harnack admits that 
our New Testament writings are inconsistent with this view. 
For they are eminently Christological. They contain dogmatic 
statements as to Christ's eternal existence as the Word of God, 
His divinity. His Messiahship, His redeeming sacrifice on Cal- 
vary, His resurrection. His founding of a church. His institu- 
tion of sacraments. But, he maintains, all this is not Christ's 
word or deed at all. It is from beginning to end the result of 
the theologizing of His first disciples. They, misled by Judaic 
Messiahism and Greek speculation, distorted the entire meaning 
of the master's life. They wrote the Gospels and Epistles 
under this delusion ; and it has remained for this age with its 
vast resources of critical research, to extricate what Christ 
really said and did, from what his Apostles and Evangelists 
declare he said and did. They give us a complex theological 
system ; He had no other message than the fatherhood of God 
and the brotherhood of man. 

All this is clear, and we wonder that the proper method 
of meeting it is not equally obvious. How is Harnack to be 
answered? Certainly not otherwise than by proving that the 

*A Reply to Harnack on the Essence of Christianity. By Professor Hermann Cremer. 
Translated by Bernhard Peck, Ph.D., D.D. New York : Funk and Wagnalls Company. 



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1903.] Views and Reviews. 835 

vague and unsubstantial content which he puts into the Gospel 
is not the whole teaching of Christ ; by showing that Christo- 
logical dogma is not the fancy of fatuous evangelists, but is 
woven into the very fibre of the covenant of Jesus; by point- 
ing out the vital weaknesses of Harnack's outrageous historical 
method, according to which he gratuitously tosses aside two- 
thirds of the Gospel as an interpolation, because it interferes 
with his fatherhood-of-God and his brotherhood- of- man theory, 
and retains the other third because he thinks that it supports 
it. The Resurrection must be proved against his very weak 
objection; the preaching of Christianity as dogmatic from the 
very day of Pentecost has to be insisted on ; and the per- 
petual existence and world-wide beneficence of the Catholic 
Church should be developed as the crown of the argument 
against him. Let this be done well, and Harnack is demolished. 
But to none of these matters does Dr. Cremer turn his at- 
tention. His entire essay takes the controversy out of the 
order of objective fact, and throws it into the abyss of subjec; 
tive sentiment. We feel that we are sinners ; we feel that God 
will save us; we feel that Christ is the way of salvation; and 
therefore whatever the Gospel says of Christ is true ! Put 
bluntly, that is what his book amounts to. Here are one or 
two characteristic expressions: "We are not to believe in Jesus 
on account of His resurrection, but we believe His resurrection 
because we believe in Jesus ; and we believe in Jesus because 
we experience Him in His word and in the word about Him. 
. . . Let one- call this mysticism, nevertheless the experi- 
ence exists." ** We believe not in Jesus for the sake of the 
miracles, but we believe the miracles for Jesus* sake." What- 
ever underlying validity there may be in these statements, they 
are simply preposterous in arguing with a rationalist. Suppose 
a man has never had all these feelings as to the necessity of a 
Saviour and so on, and the whole contention of this book is 
utterly voided of force. Of course the whole argument of the 
work rests upon that fundamental Protestant delusion, certainly 
the most miserable, as it has proved itself the most disastrous 
of all vagaries in human history, that faith is not an intel- 
lectual assent to divine truth because divine, but is rather an 
anterior persuasion, a trust, an impression that we are sancti- 
fied and forgiven. But we did not conceive it possible that in 
this age a university professor could walk up to an historical 
critic and inform him that he must not cast an eye upon the 

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Si6 Views and Reviews. [Sept., 

intellectual prolegomena to belief, until he bad gone into bis 
closet and had " experience " of sin and redemption ! To what 
a wretched posture the theology discovered in the sixteenth 
century reduces Christian apologetics ! 

Only a Catholic can refute Harnack. For the best refuta- 
tion is the living church which goes straight back to the 
Redeemer ; which has always preached Him ; which has for- 
ever exemplified His spirit and produced men and women 
who resemble Him. The church is Christ perpetuated. Un- 
contradictory in her message, matchless in her sanctity, is she 
not what the Incarnate One would be, if He had lived visibly 
through the centuries of her history ? Overwhelmingly has 
Loisy put this argument in his great answer to Harnack. 
What a pity that this illustrious scholar and devoted priest 
allowed in his work certain perilous expressions which caused 
it to be withdrawn ! But a Protestant, confronted with the 
chaos which his principles have made of Christianity, how can 
he dare to use the historical argument at all ? Cut off from 
historical union with the Apostles, and surrounded by a mare 
magnum oi sects, each professing, to teach the undivided Christ, 
he is reduced to some such incomprehensible audacity as is 
marched out before us in these concluding words of Dr. 
Cremer: "The knowledge of Christianity, the understanding of 
the Gospel as the offering of the real, present, existing gift of 
God, was lost in connection with the missionary problem of 
the church and the education of the nations, although the 
longing for it remained alive here and there, and the faith, 
though troubled, sought for itself a place, and sometimes found 
it, till God, in the hour of greatest need, raised up His servant 
Luther, who declared unto us again the Gospel of a present grace 
experienced by him of the Son of God who died and rose for us." 

7. — The Abb^ Oger has written a pamphlet* of forty- six 
pages in refutation of the latest work of M. Loisy. Ever since the 
great scholar's £vangile et V^glise appeared, a stream of two- 
penny refutations has been pouring from the presses of France. 
The Abb^ Oger has directed simply one other rivulet to swell 
the tide. It is futile, it is ridiculous to" discuss M. Loisy's 
work, which, whether we like it or hate it, is a marvellous 
production, in these superficial and ephemeral compositions 
which contain more prejudice than criticism and more rhetoric 

* ^van^iU et ^.volution. Par I'Abb^ G. Oger. Paris : Librairie Tdgiii. 

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1903.] Views and Reviews. 837 

than learning. Because M. Loisy speaks of a redaction of 
some New Testament texts, that is no reason for raising 
the hands in horror; nor is the redaction theory upset by 
a profusion of such outcries, as Helas / pauvre critique ! and 
other vulgar and unscholarly expressions of intellectual con- 
vulsions. What we desire to see is a philosophic study of 
the elements of M. Loisy's powerful essay. What is to be said 
for redaction theories ? To what extent has the time of the 
Apostles thrown itself back into the Gospel narrative ? What 
is the philosophy of development, and is M. Loisy's develop- 
ment-idea just or inadmissible ? Let us see these and similar 
problems profoundly, patiently, and soberly studied, and we 
shall welcome the book whether it upholds or demolishes the 
theories of the greatest living Catholic Scriptural scholar. 
Truth is what every true student seeks, and in pursuing it, he 
cares little for individual men or schools or tendencies. But 
there are certain obvious marks by which the sincere and 
truth-loving character of a man's work may be discerned ; and 
it seems quite time to inform certain French apologists that 
among these there is no place for exclamation marks. 

8 — A Boy on a Farm* is a little work most admirably 
adapted to the end for which it is offered to the public, 
namely, to supplement the text-book in reading of the third 
grade. It comprises two of Jacob Abbott's charming stories 
for children, revised and abridged so as to meet all the require- 
ments of a supplementary reader. We recommend it to those 
teachers who are earnestly seeking to avoid the dull grind of 
reviews, and yet secure the required proficiency on the part of 
the pupil. 

9 — Bishop Hall's book f has a great deal of useful infor- 
mation put in a plain and popular style. There is an interest- 
ing sketch on the use of the Holy Scriptures in the Jewish and 
Apostolic Christian Churches; another on the historical de- 
velopment of the Eucharistic Service and of the Office. This 
is followed by some good suggestions as to the devout use of 
the psalter ; and the book concludes with a few practical hints 
on the fit performance of the Anglican service. The reader 
who is familiar with such Catholic classics as Duchesne's 
Origines du Culte Chritien^ Batiffol's History of the Roman 

• A Boy on a Farm. By Jacob Abbott. American Book Company. 

t The Use of Holy Scripture in the Publu Worship of the Church. By the Right Rev. 
A. C. A. Hall, D.D., Bishop of Vermont. New York : Longmans, Green & Co. 



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838 Views and Reviews. [Sept, 

Breviaty, and Chabrors Livre de la Priere Antique^ will dis- 
cover nothing new, though he will meet much that is edifying, 
in this work of Bishop Hall's. 

10 — These two volumes ♦ of meditations on the Passion are 
from the pen of one of the "highest," as he is one of the 
most devout and learned of the Anglican ministry in this 
country. The meditations are really discourses, each nearly an 
hour in the delivery, given by Dr. Mortimer to his parishioners. 
They display a deep personal love for our Saviour, a hold 
upon Catholic principle and practice which is both edifying 
and pathetic, and an understanding of the interior spirit of 
prayer which is seldom met with outside the church. How 
can Anglicans, this book moves us to ask, who aspire to the 
science of prayer, to the life of the saints, to union with God, 
remain in a church where the helps to sanctity are so feeble 
and so uncertain, and continue separated from .the ancient 
household that has its centuries of unexampled holiness, its 
supreme doctors of the spiritual life, its absolutely sure sacra- 
ments, its world-wide armies of consecrated souls? This was 
the question which gave William George Ward, perhaps, his 
strongest impulse toward the church. May the asking of it, 
and other questions like it, lead such noble spirits as the 
author of these meditations, to that light and peace, which 
thousands of his former co-religionists bear witness that they 
have found within the church of history, the seminary of saints. 

** In our review last month of Professor Borden P. Bowne's 
Theism, we inadvertently omitted mentioning that the pub- 
lishers of the book are the American Book Company of New 
York, Cincinnati, and Chicago." 



I. — CHRISTIAN APOLOGETICS.f 

We are in receipt of an extraordinary work on Christian 
Apologetics, the product of the combined energies of three 
scholarly Jesuit Fathers. The first author is Father Devivier, 
who wrote the work in French. In its original form it made 
an unusually good impression, for it evoked the commenda- 

^ Meditations on the Passion of Our Most Holy Redeemer. By the Rev. Alfred G. Morti- 
mer. D.D. New York: Longmans, Green & Co. 

f Christian Apologetics ; or a Rational Exposition of the Foundations of Faith. By Rev. 
W. Devivier, S.J. Translated from the sixteenth French edition. 2 vols. Introduction by 
Rev. L. Peeters, S.J. Edited, augmented, and adapted by Rev. Joseph C. Sasia, S.J., San 
Jose, Cal. 



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1903] Views and reviews, 839 

tions of a small host of French bishops and various other 
scholarly men. It was warmly approved in the reviews, and 
it was translated into foreign languages and ran through many 
editions in its original language ; the present translation 
being taken from the sixteenth French edition. The learned 
Father Peeters added a supplementary introduction, so lengthy 
as to make him in effect almost a joint author with Father 
Devivier; and finally their combined work has been "edited, 
augmented, and adapted to English readers," by Father Sasia, 
the well-known Jesuit of the Pacific Coast. 

In the extent of the subjects covered the book is remark- 
able. It is not too much to say of it, with one of the right 
reverend gentlemen who have permitted their commendations 
to appear, that it "condenses all the arguments that Catholic 
doctrine opposes against modern . unbelief," bringing into play 
" exegesis, philosophy, theology, history, physical sciences, 
political economy, and both divine and human knowledge." 

And yet the book — complete in two comfortable volumes of 
350 pages each — is not clumsy. The authors and the editor 
have taken care that it should be not an ungainly encyclo- 
paedia, but a manageable and very readable succession of 
treatises, complete but not crowded, extensive but not diffuse. 
So much for the " get up " of the work, but what of its in- 
trinsic merit? It well deserves the profuse compliments of the 
bishops, the press, and the translators. It is well calculated to 
withstand the cumulative attacks that have been recently made 
upon Catholic works of apologetic, and notably against Het- 
tinger's work, so nearly allied in scope and in method with the 
present one ; because there is undoubtedly much learning and 
no little skill exhibited in these volumes. Moreover, the scheme 
is orderly and logical — perhaps a trifle too orderly, for the 
skeleton- of the scholastic treatises is in spots only too thinly 
concealed ; and then again, while the whole treatment is, in a 
sense, popular and easy for reading, it has not yielded in 
scholarliness, it has given the argument for Christian and 
Catholic doctrine in perhaps as presentable and as winning a 
way as may be under the existing, multiform, and chaotic con- 
dition of the minds of the men whom we wish to reach, yet 
whom we can scarcely expect to satisfy in any general trea- 
tise, precisely because their diflScultics are so various and so 
irregular. The two volumes before us are replete with argu- 
ments of the kind that are acceptable to the modern mind; 

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840 V/EIVS AND REVIEIVS. [Sept.^ 

quotations from opponents^ appeals to common sense and to 
the religious sense, references to standard works and to worthy- 
treatises of recent date. 

We have a lingering fear, however, that many will say 
that the work is not entirely satisfactory. It is not, under a 
penetrating examination, remarkable for originality; it follows 
generally the schema of the proofs of the text- books, proofs^ 
for instance, of the immortality of the soul and of its eternal 
destiny in heaven or in hell, that have been stoutly and per- 
sistently, whether reasonably or unreasonably, combatted of 
late. But this objection may well pass. The old standing 
proofs are worth what they are worth, and if we cannot find 
more arguments and better, perhaps we shall when the school 
of the *' new apologetic " is firmly established. We must fix 
over the old proofs, with no misgiving as to their intrinsic 
solidity, and give them forth again and again, in the hope that 
in their new clothing they may be presentable and convincing 
to the minds we are anxious to win and the souls we are 
eager to save. And as we say this word concerning the win- 
ning of our neighbors and contemporaries, we cannot refrain 
from affirming that this supreme standard of all apologetic can 
scarcely be attained by the rigorous method employed in cer- 
tain sections. A blunderbuss attack on Christian science, for 
example, will never convert a Christian scientist, unless it come 
in contact with one who likes to have his attention caught by 
being called violent names, and his mind convinced by being 
overwhelmed with asseverations of his asininity. No ! this 
much is unfortunate. The error exists, it is asinine, but we 
cannot get one soul to drop it by telling him so. However^ 
this lapsus is quite out of harmony with the generally calm 
and peaceable tone of the whole work : it is a slight blemish 
on an otherwise remarkably worthy production. 



2. — THE NEW INTERNATIONAL ENCYCLOPiEDIA. VOL. XL* 

The present volume of the International is up to the stand- 
ard set for this learned work by its able editors. The more 
one looks into this encyclopaedia the more it commends itself 
to the judgment of a discerning reader for its learning, scholar- 
ship, and fairness. In many regards the work is a distinct im- 

* The New International Encyclopeedia, Editors, Daniel Coit Gilman, LL.D., President 
of Johns Hopkins University 1876-1901, President of Carnegie Institution ; Harry Thurston 
Peck, Ph.D., L.H.D., Professor of Columbia University; Frank Moore Colby, M.A.. late 
Professor of Economics in New York University. New York : Dodd, Mead & Co. 



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1903.] V/EIVS AND REVIEWS. 841 

provement on the many encyclopaedias that have gone before 
it. What commends the work is its singular comprehensive- 
ness. The range of topics is wide and the treatment of each 
is adequate for the ordinary reader, while for the student there 
is a bibliography that refers one to the leading writers on both 
sides of a disputed question. 

We find in the present volume lengthy treatises' on such 
subjects as " Latin Language and Literature " ; a good scientific 
article on " Light/' with all the latest information. " Life Insur- 
ance," which has made such wonderful strides in our modern 
economies, deserves and gets a full discussion. " Libraries " and 
'* Literary Properties," too, are extensively treated. There is a 
peculiarly fair though, perhaps not an exhaustive article on 
" Religious Liberty." In this article we find the statement which 
is absolutely true, and yet which goes against many of the 
theories that have been current coin in our previous religious 
histories, to wit: "Nor did the Reformation introduce the 
principle of religious liberty into Europe." Protestantism, par- 
ticularly, stood by the maxim Cujus regio^ cujus religio,*' and 
declared it was the right and duty of a prince to establish a 
religion for his subjects and to enforce it, even to the shed- 
ding of blood. Protestantism has always been the essence of 
national churches. While Catholicism has stood for a spiritual 
power as against the authority of civil princes in matters of 
conscience. The article on "Lourdes" is very meagre. The pil- 
grims to Lourdes have numbered three hundred thousand per 
annum for the last forty years. Here is a great modern fact^ 
miraculous and marvellous, demanding the attention of millions, 
devoutly believed in by hosts of adherents and as heartily re- 
pudiated by hosts of unbelievers, yet the encyclopaedia gives it 
but half a column, and then refers to it as a "reputed appari- 
tion." What about the scientific investigations into the mira- 
cles ? What about the rigid censorship that is exercised by 
the medical fraternity at Lourdes ? What about the informal 
approbation given at Rome by the institution of the Feast of 
Our Lady of Lourdes? Rome is provokingly slow and dread- 
fully loath to approve these manifestations of the supernatural, 
for she knows how many avenues of deceptions are open to 
the simple-hearted. 

The article on " Martin Luther " is rather eulogistic, and in- 
cludes little if any of the results of the latest historical re- 
searches into Luther's life and death. It is now generally be- 

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842 Views and Reviews. [Sept., 

lieved that the once proud idol of the Reformation has. feet of 
clay, and that of a very low grade. He opened the door to 
the modern abomination of divorce. Read his letter to Philip 
of Hesse, wherein he quotes the practices of the patriarchs as 
the norm of one's conduct. Read his complete works, vol. 
xxxiii. page 322, et seq, wherein he says: "It is not forbid- 
den that a man should have more than one wife. I could not 
forbid it to-day, for the reason that a man can not be pure 
with only one wife." Of the right of private judgment, Luther 
says that *' No yokel is so rude but when he has dreams and 
fancies he thinks himself inspired by the Holy Ghost and must 
be a prophet" (De Wette, vol. iii. p. 61). These modern 
revelations of the prophet of the Reformation, show him to be 
very carnal as well as very illogical. What about his death ? 
There is good reason to believe that he strangled himself. 

We make these few animadversions on this most excellent 
work, because we are anxious to have it as near perfection as 
possible. When we find it so up-to-date as to print a biogra- 
phy of Leo XHL, who died but one month ago, we would 
like to have it up-to-date in other historical matters. Histori- 
cal criticism is very destructive of our favored fancies and is 
making new truths every day. And a real valuable encyclo- 
paedia must needs be in touch with the very latest develop- 
ments of historical research. 

The article on the *' Mass " is one of the fullest and at the 
same time simplest we remember to have seen in any standard 
encyclopaedia. 



3. — A VALUABLE LIFE OF LEO XIIL* 

The death of Leo XHL has been the occasion of sending 
out from the press a flood of so-called biographies of the late 
Holy Father. Some of them are good because they have for 
authors men eminent in letters who would not lend their names 
to anything of a clap-trap nature. Others are the merest trash, 
made only to catch the unthinking multitude. The enterprising 
publisher saw in the universal chorus of praise that was ac- 
corded to the character and merits of Leo XHL a good oppor- 
tunity to make a little money, and so he heaped together a few 
paragraphs from this source, and some newspaper clippings 

^Life of Leo XIII, and History of Hit Pontificait from Official and Approved Sources, By 
Francis T. Furey. With an Introduction by Very Rev. T. C. Middleton, D.D., O.S.A. 
Philadelphia : Catholic Educational Company. 



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1903.] Views and Reviews. 843 

from that, and bound the whole within covers replete with 
glittering gold, and palmed it off on an innocent and suffering 
public as a biography of the great Pontiff. 

There are some good biographies of Leo. One of the best 
is the one edited by Francis T. Furey, and published by the 
Catholic Educational Company of Philadelphia. 

This Life of Leo XIIL makes no special claim to origin- 
ality. It follows to some extent tHe monumental works of 
Mgr. C. de T'Serclaes, Rector of the Belgian College in Rome, 
and of the Abbe J. Guillermin, the poet-priest of Provence. 
The author of the former work had exceptional facilities of 
learning all the facts of Leo's life. He had frequent communion 
with the Holy Father's family, he lived in the immediate en- 
tourage of the papal court, and he enjoyed an intimate and 
sympathetic friendship with the Holy Father, which gave him 
unusual sources of knowledge. Moreover, his scholarly and 
analytical mind was not content to relate the mere incidents 
of Leo's life, but he saw their relations in view of the divine 
work of the church. His analysis, therefore, of the encyclicals, 
and their bearing on the needs of modern society, is of more 
than ordinary value. The present biography supplies a philoso- 
phy of the history of the pontificate of one of the greatest of 
the popes. While it is a faithful portrait of a great man, it 
also brings out in strong relief the great world power the 
papacy has been and now is. It is a strong evidence of the 
super- eminent, moral influence the late Holy Father has exerted 
in the world. Leo is dead, but his work will live. He was a 
pioneer opening new paths of success, formulating schemes that 
will take a generation to realize, planning for results that will 
materialize when most of the men who are now active on the 
stage of life will have passed away. These facts make a study 
of Leo's life and works of prime importance. A good biography, 
then, is a valuable help to this study. 

There has come to our table another Life of Leo XIIL, by 
Richard H. Clarke, LL.D., which deserves more than passing 
mention. It has come too late for an extended review this 
month. In giving it a hasty glance it seems to rank very high 
among the excellent biographies of the late Pope. We shall 
return to it next month. 

VOL. LXXVII. — 54 



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+ 



TAe Month (July): The editor reviews a recent historical work, 
The Popish Plot, by Mr. Pollock, criticising severely the 
author's attempt to reverse, on the basis of a skilful but 
unfounded hypothesis, the universally accepted verdict of 
history on this point, and condemn the innocent victims 
of the Titus Oates conspiracy for treasonable practises 
of which they have long since been acquitted by the 
unbiased judgment of posterity. 

" Vita Nuova," is an able article from the facile pen 
of Father Tyrrell, S.J., in which the author treats of 
some of the distinctive features of Christianity. The 
essential characteristic of the "new life" inaugurated 
with the coming of Christ is to be found in a spirit of 
unselfishness, a perfect self- forgetting fidelity to the ideals 
of goodness, an absolute disinterested devotion to the 
Divine Will. The cross, the sacrifice of self and of 
selfishness for the sake of these higher ideals, so distinc- 
tive a feature of the religion of Christ — it is this which 
marks the higher development of man's spiritual nature, 
and which has given to our Western civilization that 
healthy virility and energetic faith in life which render 
it so superior to the civilization of the East. 
(August) : The introductory article on Leo XIII., in its 
comparison between past and present, pays a worthy 
tribute to the diplomacy of our late Pontiff. The author 
lays particular stress on the amicable relations now 
existing between the Holy See and the Geiman Em- 
pire, in contrast to the antagonism and apparent 
hatred of the German Emperor, William I., for his pre- 
decessor. 

In the concluding article on the suppression of the 
Society of Jesus, Father Sydney F. Smith summarizes 
the circumstances under which the society was dissolved : 
its numerous and powerful foes working to sweep it 
away, and its more numerous but weaker supporters 
striving to sustain it. He discusses the manner in which 



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1903.] Library Table. 845- 

the attack began and how it was carried out, and finally 
the true reasons for the suppression. 

£tudes (5 July): Joseph Burnichon contributes an interesting 
review of the religious persecution in France during the 
past twenty years. \In the many oppressive enactments 
passed during the period, more especially in the vigor-' 
ous campaign now beiQg waged against the religious 
orders, the writer finds evidence of a deep-laid scheme 
for the overthrow of the church and of religion skilfully 
devised and carried out by the hostile Masonic^ frater- 
nity now in power. 

In closing his examination of the arguments for the 
Baconian authorship of Shakspere's plays, P. Boubie 
concludes that the Baconian claim, despite its apparent 
extravagance, is supported by many strong reasons, and 
is at least sufficiently well founded to warrant a careful 
and serious consideration. 

(20 July) : In the continuation of his article on the reli- 
gious persecution in France, P. Burnichon considers 
some of the causes that have combined to render possi- 
ble the success of the church's enemies in their work of 
persecution. These he finds in the failure on the part 
of a majority of the people to fully grasp the idea of 
liberty embodied in their government, or to take advan- 
tage of the rights and privileges it affords, their appar- 
ent indifference and lack of interest in public affairs 
combined with a slavish, unquestioning reverence for all 
the mandates of authority, and finally in the lamentable 
dissensions and lack of unity within the ranks of the 
Catholic majority. 

Revue du Lille (June) : In the University Extension Confer- 
ences a criticism is given by C. Looten in appreciation 
of Henry Sienkiewicz, as revealed in his works anteceding 
Quo Vadis. Among others the critic noted Bj^ Fire and 
Sword and Without Dogma, as points by which one may 
observe the author's emphasis of the nobler side of life, 
and his doctrine that life cannot be lived with impunity 
on any elective moral basis ; that to be fruitful of good 
it must be full of the sap of Christian morality. 

P. Bayart begins a series of papers whose object it 
is to trace the logical development in Cardinal Newman's 



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846 Library Table. [Sept., 

mind of those ideas- which wrought his conversion. He 
gives a brief summary of the condition of the creeds in 
England at that time, and indicates three prime convic* 
tions of that great English churchman, viz.^ religion 
must be dogmatic ; a visible church with a sacramental 
system is necessary ; the Pope is Anti-christ. 

La Democratie Chretienne (Aug.): This number is devoted en- 
tirely to the character and works of Leo XIII. Abb^ 
Paul Six gives a summary and discussion of the work 
that the late Pope has done in the sciences Sociology, 
Economics, and Politics. 

The Church Quarterly Review (July) : In an article entitled 
" Prayers for the Dead," the writer shows that the prac- 
tice of praying for the dead was common in the early 
Christian Church, and sketches a plan which he holds 
might be consistently followed by the Church of Eng- 
land to-day. The writer on Leo XIIL reviews the life 
and works of the great Pontiff, and devotes his attention 
principally to the political relations of the Vatican dur- 
ing Leo's reign. 

Critical Review (July) : In view of the many misleading inter- 
pretations which have been put upon the term "Catho- 
lic," as applied to the Christian Church, M. A. R. Luker 
undertakes, by closely tracing the disputed term as it 
has evolved in history, and been employed to designate 
a body of Christians, to throw some little light on what 
he believes to be this very vexatious and much contro- 
verted question. He hastily reviews many of the appe- 
lations which have been applied to the church during 
her struggles with heresy, but have passed with the cir- 
cumstances which gave them rise, and deals more at 
length with the terms " Catholic " and " Orthodox." As 
a result of his investigation of this historical aspect of 
the question, he declares that the Church of Rome, and 
no other, can rightfully claim the title " Catholic." The 
reviewer of Mallock's Religion as a Credible Doctrine^ 
accuses that author of having wholly ignored this all- 
important truth, namely, that the testimony of conscious- 
ness is primary and immediate, and must be accepted 
unquestioned and undemonstrated, if we are to have 
any basis for certitude and faith. He believes that Mr. 



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1903.] Library Table. 847 

Mallock involves himself in a glaring self-contradiction 
in his treatment of the freedom of the human will, and 
concludes by observing that the effect of the work upon 
the average reader will be more in favor of scientific 
unfaith than against it. 
La Revue Ginirqle (July) : In an able article on the education 
of women, M. Ch. Woeste discusses at length the much- 
vexed questions of "Woman's Rights" and "Woman 
Suffrage." While placing women socially and intellec- 
tually on a perfect equality with man, and advocating 
the amelioration of her present condition by education, 
the improvement of domestic relations, and the exten- 
sion of her rights and liberties, in so far as is compatible 
with her unique position in the family and society, the 
writer fs nevertheless of opinion that the extension to 
women of the rights of suffrage and of holding office, 
far from being a blessing, would but compromise her 
proper dignity by tending to degrade her from that po- 
sition of love and influence she has always occupied in 
the domestic circle, thereby endangering the stability of 
the family, upon which the well-being of society so 
much depends. 
The Tablet^ London (18 July): Contains a paper read at the 
Catholic Truth Conference in Liverpool by Mr. Alfred 
Booth, on " The Church's Music as Restored by the 
Benedictines of Solesmes," in which he gives a sketch 
of church music and advocates its general revival as a 
great help in re- converting England to Catholicism. 
Correspondence continued on the question of English 
Freemasonry. ^ 

(25 July) : For the second time within a month, the 
Tablet appears in mourning — this time for Pope Leo 
XIIL In two leading articles it gives an appreciation 
of the late Pope, and also his life and career. 

Mr. Houlgrave, in a letter to the editor, takes Mr. 
Booth to task for several inaccuracies in his paper on 
Church Music, and denies Mr. Booth's claims for the 
Solesmes chant. 

Under the title "The Pope and the Painters," differ- 
ent portraits of the late Pontiff and their artists are 
discussed. 



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848 . Library Table. [Sept 

(i Aug.): A leading article on the conclave gives an 
historical sketch of that body and its methods of elect- 
ing a pope. 

A report of the debate in the House of Commons 
over the expulsion of the Douai Benedictines, gives Mr. 
Redmond's speech and Lord Cranborne's reply. An 
article entitled "Missionary View of Somaliland," de- 
scribes the grave dangers threatening Christian missions 
in the land of the Mad Mullah. 
Stimmen aus Maria Laach (July) : Rev. Herman Gruber, S.J., 
contributes a very lengthy article on M. Combes, in 
which he sketches the minister's policy in dealing with 
the Catholics of France, and comments on his attitude 
towards the church in general. 

The German translation of Bishop Spalding's charming 
essay Opportunity^ is noticed by Rev. A. Baumgartner, 
S.J., who finds in it some points which he feels com- 
pelled to criticise adversely. Chief among these are the 
author's high appreciation of such writers as Emerson, 
Ruskin, Kant, and Wordsworth, while "true Catholic 
thinkers and poets" receive but little notice in- the 
essay ; the fact that " the Middle Ages are left far far 
behind these 283 pages buried in deep darkness," and 
finally what Father Baumgartner believes to be the 
Bishop's undue appreciation of the Poet Goethe. The 
reviewer believes the work to be " characterized more by 
passionate feeling than by calm thought." 

Rev. M. Meschler, S.J., writing on "True Life," 
shows that the Christian conception of life is the only 
correct one. 



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There is an extremely significant article in The 

Sigiuflcant Article American Journal of Theology, (Chicago Uni- 

by Dr. Briggs. versity) from the pen of Dr. C. A. Briggs, 

of the Union Theological Seminary, entitled 
*' Catholic — The Name and the Thing." It is significant both from 
the fact that Dr. Briggs writes it, and also Jrom the trend of the 
subject-matter of the article. Dr. Briggs is one of the most 
learned theologians among the non-Catholic writers of the day. 
Whatever he writes is eagerly read, and there is a whole host 
of ministers and laymen who accept his conclusions without a 
question. The treatment of the subject-matter is equally as 
significant. The author proves by the historical argument that 
the name Catholic always stood for three essential things: 
(i) the vital unity of the church in Christ; (2) the. geographi- 
cal unity of the church extending throughout the world; (3) 
the historical unity of the church in apostolic tradition. 

The conclusion is, they who would have a just claim to 
this title must possess this triple unity. It is very evident 
that no Protestant denomination can enter the shadow of a 
claim to any unity like this. AH Protestantism has broken 
away from the vital unity of Christendom. No national church 
can possess geographical unity, and any church that originated 
in the sixteenth century cannot claim historical unity. And 
yet the church that is not Catholic cannot be the true church. 
In this way and in other. ways Dr. Briggs continues to shatter 
the old idols of Protestant writers as, for example, " The Church 
of the Second Century declined from the Apostolic Faith." ** It 
is not true," he says, " that Greek philosophy and Roman ad- 
ministration secularized Christianity." We find such passages as 
the following scattered through the article: ** It is mere per- 
versity not to return to Rome if the conscience is convinced 
that Rome is right in all her great controversies with Protest- 
antism." He is referring to the Ritualists.- "There can be no 
doubt that at the close of the third Christian century Roman 
and Catholic were so closely allied that they were practically 
identical." ** There can be no doubt that the Reman Catholic 
Church of our day is the heir by unbroken descent to the 



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850 Comment on Current Topics. [Sept., 

Roman Catholic Church of the second century, and that it is 
justified in using the name ' Catholic ' as ' the name of the 
church as well as the name ' Roman.' If we would be Catho- 
lic, we cannot become Catholic by merely calling ourselves by 
that name. Unless a name corresponds with the thing it is a 
sham, and it is a shame." 

The article should be carfuUy read by all who desire to 
keep au fait with the latest thought in theological circles. 
There is a reaching out for the name Catholic among the dis- 
sident churches. When it becomes evident that they cannot 
have the name without possessing the reality they will parley 
for union. Dr. Briggs is doing a great deal to hasten the 
day when all Christian bodies will come together. 

W. T. Harris, LL.D., United States Com- 

Dr. Hams Spe- missioner of Education, signs his name to 
010U8 Argument. 

a curious article in the Independent (August 

6), in which he endeavors to present a rather specious argu- 
ment, why religious instruction cannot be given in the schools 
supported by public taxes. He says "The principle of reli- 
gious instruction is authority ; that of secular instruction is 
demonstration and verification. It is obvious that these two 
principles should not be brought into the same school, but 
separated as widely as possible." An interesting investigation 
is started by these statements. If the Commissioner means 
that religious instruction will not bear " demonstration and veri- 
fication," of course he is all wrong. Theology is as much an 
exact science as history, philosophy, geography, or any of the 
sciences taught in the school curriculum. Its fundamental 
principles are demonstrable, and it moves on to its ultimate 
conclusions by as strict a logical method as may be found in 
any other science. The source of revelation is added to rea^ 
son, but the veracity and reasonableness of revelation may be 
proved, as any other great historical fact, and the stern methods of 
demonstration and verification are applicable to facts of revela- 
tion as to any other facts. There are mysteries in religious 
instruction which are to be accepted on authority, but are there 
not mysteries in every science, even so pure and exact a 
science as mathematics ? On the other hand does not the prin- 
ciple of authority pervade all secular branches ? It is a thing 
you cannot get away from. The child accepts all on authority. 



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1903.] Comment on Current Topics. 851 

He does not reject truth in any science until he has subjected 
it to 'demonstration arid verification/' As his mind matures 
he investigates, he asks for proofs. But he does not do it 
any more in the secular branches than he does in religious in- 
struction. The methods of learning are exactly the same 
whether it be of the stars or of the world beyond the stars. 

The Commissioner's idea of religion is apparently the gor- 
geous ceremonial which appeals to the eye, the sweet music 
that charms the ear, the fervid oratory that awakens the 
imagination, and he thinks that as soon as the cold measure of 
logic is applied, religion disappears. The effusiveness of the 
affections, the stirring of the heart, this is religion, he prob- 
ably thinks; but as soon as one gets away into the region of 
reason, no religion enters there. In his notion religion and 
reason cannot exist at the same time in the same person. The 
commissioner is all wrong. If the principle of demonstration 
and verification could not have been applied to religion, the 
world would not have been convinced of its truth. 

Moreover, he constantly uses the phrase " schools supported 
by public taxes." In any claim that Catholics have made for 
school money, they have always protested that they want no 
money for the teaching of religion, nor will they accept any. 
They are abundantly able to teach religion themselves without 
state assistance. It would be a gross violation of the spirit of 
the constitution for the state to pay any religious body to 
teach its religious principles, nor would any religious body, 
with a spark of self-respect, accept money from the state to 
teach religious principles according to the state's dictation. It 
is a good sign of the times when the United States Commis- 
sioner of Education publicly discusses this burning question 
openly. 

The Federation of Catholic Societies has held 
Besolutions of the another annual meeting, and has given out 
Federation some very temperate resolutions on Social- 

ism and the Labor Question following the 
Encyclicals of Leo XIII. The resolutions propose a basis of 
settlement of the vexed school question on the following con- 
ditions : '* First, let no public moneys be paid out for religious 
instruction in any school ; second, let the educational per capi- 
ta tax be disbursed for results in purely secular studies only, 
in our parish schools our teachers receiving their salaries as 



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852 Comment on Current Topics. [Sept., 

other teachers receive theirs; third, to ascertain these results 
let our schools be submitted to state or city examinations. 
Thus will the great principle of our government 'No public 
moneys for sectarian purposes' be preserved intact." 

A resolution follows condemning divorce and branding 
lynching as murder and the burning and torture of victims, 
even when clearly guilty of crime, as barbarism and savagery. 

The Philippine question is touched on in a complaining 
way, yet they absolve the government officials of any inten- 
tion of doing wrong. They demand for the Friars ** the same 
freedom of action and rights of ownership guaranteed to every 
man living under the Stars and Stripes." The time may come 
in the Philippines when the the Friars will be the best 
supporters of the American authority, as they were of the 
Spanish authority. The Aglipay schism has by no means 
died out as many suppose. It is a growing factor among 
the natives, and growing on the old lines of the for- 
mer insurrection. The future insurrection in the Philippines 
against the American government will be nurtured in the 
Aglipay schism and get its strength from its organization. 
The government is wisely in close .friendship with the new 
bishops who are going out there. The same wisdom would 
urge the establishment of friendships with the Friars. A 
hasty settlement of their land difficulties will contribute to 
this end. Why should the government haggle over prices ? Let 
the Friars be bought out at their own price if need be. They 
can then go back among the people as apostles and not as 
land holders, and the people will receive them. 

The resolutions conclude with a reference to France, the 
Indian schools, - public libraries,; Catholic Truth Societies, and 
the Press. 

The Catholic Total Abstinence Union of 
ITew Phase of Tern- America indicates, through the reports made 
peranoe Work. at its recent annual convention, a normal and 
healthy growth. It has added 4,200 to its 
membership during the past year. The most remarkable fea- 
ture of the gathering was the report of the work done by Father 
Siebenfoercher in the seminaries of the country. During the 
past year he had been invited to a large number of seminaries 
and there he presented to the young levites the principles 
on which the Total Abstinence Cause rests, and enlisted in the 



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1903.] Create a Catholic Social Laboratory. 853 

service of this cause many hundreds of ecclesiastical students. 
This movement has now become thoroughly established. This 
year it has issued in the organization of a Sacerdotal Total 
Abstinence League. 

There is a like movement on foot in Ireland. The article 
of Rev. P. Coffey in the Irish Ecclesiastical Record shows that 
a vigorous propaganda is carried on in Maynooth and already 
the Father Mathew's Union numbers over two hundred mem- 
bers representing sixteen dioceses. The Jesuit, Father Cullen, 
is doing yeoman's service on these lines. In his Pioneers' To- 
tal Abstinence Association the membership has grown during 
the past four years to 34,000, though the conditions are rigid; 
among the requirements is a total abstinence promise for life. 
Father Coffey says that fifty young priests left Maynooth within 
the past two years promising a life service in the total abstinence 
cause, and at least three hundred are to follow in the next 
few years. Many who have reason to know the vastly superior 
influence of the total abstaining priest in promoting temperance 
see in this new development the first sure signs of a wide- 
spread and thorough temperance reform. 



CREATE A CATHOLIC SOCIAL LABORATORY. 

(Catholic University and the St. Louis Exposition.) 

The following request, though it comes to us in an unoffi- 
cial way, yet touches on a matter of such importance that we 
feel it necessary to call the attention of active workers in the 
church to it in a special way. 

We print the letter in its entirety. 

Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. 

I think that nothing in the history of our American universities is more 
interesting to observe than the evident increase during the past few years in 
the desire on the part of the students to get a first-hand knowledge of our fun- 
damental social problems. No doubt this is but a phase of the social spirit 
that is manifest all around us. Though this new interest cannot be doubted, 
there is some question as to whether the colleges have advanced their supply 
as rapidly as the demand warranted. 

Dr. Peabody, around whom the socio-ethical work in our college centres, 
has conceived the idea of establishing at Harvard a museum, or Laboratory, 
that may serve the same purpose for the student of Social Science, that the 



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854 Create a Catholic Social Laboratory. [Sept., 

museums of zoology, botany, and physics serve for the students in these several 
sciences. Ideally, we should like to send the student out as an original investi- 
gator to the real world. But this obviously is impracticable, because the student 
cannot give the necessary time, having other college work to do ; and because 
but very few men are competent to make original researches in very large 
fields, where some skill is required to avoid the useless and to preserve the 
suitable material. 

Dr. Peabody has commissioned me to gather material such as I think will 
be of value in the way of illuminating the study of our great social problems. 
Of course, ours is not a work of propaganda ; but is essentially a gathering of 
such data as can be turned to advantageous use by the students whose purpose 
is to get at the truth. On this account we must aim to bring together what 
will throw light on all sides of the central problems. 

Now, I feel that our museums would be essentially incomplete without an 
adequate representation of the great work the Catholic Church is doing in 
America of spreading religious and moral truth and of bettering the conditions 
of the ignorant, the laboring man, and the unfortunate. In the pursuit of my 
studies, I have had occasion to note that almost every book written upon our 
great social problems completely ignores the part the Church plays in our 
national and social life. I am inclined to believe that this is in some part due 
to the narrow-mindedness of the authors or editors of the several books ; but 
to a far greater degree I believe it is the fault of the representatives of the 
Church. Anyway, I am not willing that our museum should be incomplete 
through the carelessness or indifference of any one. Therefore, I have ap- 
pealed to you to do what you can to see that the Church shall receive the pro- 
portion of space in our exhibit that the scope and intensity of her work justify. 
I feel that there is a twofold reason why you should aid me with enthusiasm. 
First, as Americans, doing your share to advance American civilization, you 
should be willing to make known your accomplishments and your methods, if 
by so doing you can assist fellow-Ameficans who are struggling to solve the 
same or similar problems. I can assure you that there is no better place in 
our country to spread this information than Harvard College. Our social 
study is growing, and with its growth I feel confident that we shall steadily 
attract more and more of those men who are most competent to pursue, for 
the real good they can do, the social sciences. Then, this is an admirable 
occasion for you, as representative of the Church, to make your work known 
to the people. You know that one of your greatest enemies is biassed 
ignorance. This prejudice is not worthy enough to be combated in the forum. 
Nevertheless, it is making its effect on those non-Catholics in our midst who 
are easily lead in mobs, and do not wait to reason or for the truth. For your 
own safety you must counteract their influence. They are by no means in all 
cases ignorant men; their ignorance often is confined to Catholic affairs; 
upon other matters they are sufficiently well informed. The best and bravest 
method of refuting these, it seems to me, is, while seemingly ignoring them, 
to present the truth concerning the Church's activity, before the American 
people. Again, let me say, that there is no better way than to address your- 
self first to Harvard students. If education is true to its purpose it trains 
men to seek the facts, without prejudice. I believe that, in a high degree, 



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1903. J Create a Catholic Social Laboratory. 855 

Harvard succeeds in this. We have with us a large class of men who can be 
impartial ; »vho can judge without bias, because their scientific trr;ining has 
been of the proper sort. These men very soon are going to lead the thought 
of our country. Is it not worth while for the Church to set herself right before 
such men? 

Until I know more about the activities of the Church, it will be difficult 
for me to suggest specifically what should be given to Harvard. Hastily, let 
me suggest that the educational work should be thoroughly represented, and 
the philanthropic ; both in ways that would make it clear to a student what 
the Church really stands for. To this end maybe some photographs could be 
utilized, and surely all the statistics possible to be obtained ; then, whatever 
printed material will throw light upon the work ; and statements from those 
engaged in the work directly, and others who through their training are com- 
petent to judge. The exhibit representing the Temperance movement should 
be so thorough that no Harvard student, who is seeking information on the 
general movement in America, could justifiably assess too low the credit due 
the Church. Then, besides the educational, philanthropic, and temperance 
work, the other activities of the Church should be presented ; especially, the 
general religious work, in a manner that would show the good the Church is 
doing in the way of bringing men out of darkness. 

There are men in the Catholic University who are competent to prepare 
the desired exhibit. No greater service can be done to the Church than to 
urge them to the work. Now, I am confident that none of the material I shall 
bring back to my college will be more valuable than the data respecting the 
Church's work. Again, I have met those who prophesied that I should fail to 
get a single fact from the Church. To prove this prophecy unwarranted, and 
to serve my college, I am exceedingly anxious to do all I can, as soon as pos- 
sible, to have the work begun. I shall ask you to aid me and to sympathize with 
me in my haste. It will be a great advantage to have some material present 
at Harvard at the opening of the college year. Even a small quantity, with 
the assurance of more to follow, will make positive that the exhibit as a whole 
will be given proper space and attention. 

Faithfully yours, 

Simon J. Lubin. 

The importance of this matter arises from the following 
facts: (i) The speedy and correct settlement of problems of 
the social order are of urgent importance ; (2) there is and 
there can be no settlement that leaves out the basic princi- 
ples of religion ; (3) it is becoming recognized that the Catho- 
lic Church as an organization is doing more to solve the 
difEculties of our social order than any other agency, and per- 
haps as much as many of the agencies that we hear so much 
of put together; (4) there is a deplorable lack of proper 
reports of the work done by Catholic agencies. No eflforts 
have been made to get together the stories of the many splen- 



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856 Create a Catholic Social Laboratory. [Sept, 

did institutions where children are cared for, waifs are pro- 
tected, defectives are harbored, the aged and the indigent are 
provided for. There are in this country nearly 50,000 reli- 
gious who are giving their best energies to the relief of the 
needy, and doing it without salary, and doing it in the most ef- 
fectual ways. If these were called ** Social Settlement Workers," 
a little glow of sentiment would be cast about them, but they 
are ordinary sisters and brothers who toil with short hours of 
sleep and long hours of work, looking beyond the grave for 
their reward. If all the work that is done in the various 
Catholic hospitals and orphan asylums and homes and protec- 
tories, among the sick and' the poor and the needy and the 
defectives, was eliminated, there would be a gap created that 
no other organization could fill. 

Yet this work is not known. The volume of it is hardly 
realized within the Church, and the social student without the 
Church has practically no conception of it. In our great uni- 
versities piofessors of Social Science talk about the evils that 
affect society, and suggest their theories for relief; but the 
thinking student is forced to acknowledge that they are but 
scratching the surface, and are by no means getting at the root 
of the difficulty. There is a marvellous lack of knowledge, 
among the students of Social Science in our great universities, 
concerning the work that is being done within the bosom of 
the Catholic Church. 

The step that Harvard is taking to organize a social labora- 
tory in which the work of the Catholic Church will get an 
adequate share of representation is not only a useful thing, 
but it is an enlightened movement, and it is well worthy of 
the great university that is inaugurating it. This work of 
Harvard will surely be followed by all the other institutions of 
learning, so that students in all parts of the country will have 
the data from which to learn the social work of the Church. 

Some will ask, what is a Social Laboratory ? It is a libra- 
ry of works bearing social studies. It is a museum where the 
results are exposed to view. It is a compilation of data, and 
statistics, and photographs, and reports of institutions, and a 
statement of special methods of work. It is a gathering of 
every thing that bears on the social studies, so that the stu- 
dent may go there to make his researches. 

A few suggestions may be pertinent in this matter: 



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1903.] Create a Catholic Social Laboratory, 857 

(i) While to Harvard University is due the credit of suggesting 
this matter, yet the labor of creating the Catholic department of the 
first social laboratory would naturally fall to the Catholic University. 
There is at Washington a department devoted to Social Science, 
and there are able professors and instructors in this depart* 
ment, and their prestige would enable them easily to gather 
from the hundreds of institutions throughout the land, reports 
of their work, together with photographs of their buildings and 
the inmates. There is at hand here the "Fortieth Annual Re- 
port of the Catholic Protectory at Westchester, N. Y." with 
twenty- seven full-page half-tone illustrations — buildirgs and 
class-rooms and work shops, etc. Such photographs are ex- 
ceedingly valuable in the study of methods and results of 
work. If every Catholic institution could be induced to get 
out like reports they would afford unusually valuable material 
for the Social Laboratory. 

(2) A good opportunity to get this exhibit together, will be 
provided by the St. Louis Exposition. Every one remembers 
of what exceeding value was the Catholic School Exhibit at 
the Columbian Exhibition. Probably no one thing gave edu- 
cators so high an estimate of the good work done in the par- 
ish school as this exhibit. Bishop Spalding and Brother 
Maurelian conferred an incalculable blessing on Catholic school 
work, by the tactful way in which they created ihis exhibit 
and brought it before the public eye. What was done for the 
parish school then can be done at the St. Louis Fair for the 
social work of the Church. The Catholic University is the 
logical prime mover in this matter. As the first Catholic in- 
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steps. If the Catholic University takes the matter up, it will 
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THIS PAG£ IS FOR MUTUAL BBNBFIT of Reader, Advertiser, and 
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THIS POPULAR LIFE OF LEO XIII., including his Personal Memoirs, is also the 
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Association of Our Lady of Pity 

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Material aid onlj 35 cents yearly. Tht 
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Daily Mass offered for the members. 
Write for information to 

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526 Sycamore Street, Cincinnati, '' 

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children may be adopted and brought up undei 
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with the Catholic Home Bureau, 

105 East aad St., New York City. 



PITTSBURG CATHOLIC COLLEGE 
OF THE HOLT GHOST. 

For Day Students and Boarders. 

Thorough in the Grammar, Academic, Com- 
mercial, and College Departments. Courses in 
French, German, Spanish, Short-hand, and 
Typewriting. A Special Class for Students 
preparing for any Profession. Rooms for 
Senior Students. 

Very Rev. M. A. Hehir, C.S.Sp., President. 



URSULINE ACADEMY, 

97i]iebiddle Are., near Penn, Pittsburg, Pa. 

Boarding and Day School conducted by the 
Unollne Nuns. 

Complete course of English and French ; 
(irivate lessons in music, instrumental and ▼<>- 
ad ; French, German, drawing, painting, and 
ilocution. 

For terms apply to the Directress. 



NOTRE DAME ACADEMY, 

RoxBURY, Mass. 

This Academy, situated two miles west of 
Boston, is remarkable for the beauty an<l 
liealthfulness of its location. 

The curriculum is such as will prepare young 
ladles for any sphere in life. It guarantees 
efaem a thorough knowledge of letters, sdenoe, 
ind art, based upon a solid moral and Chris- 
dan education. Students prepared for Trinity 
College. 

For all detailed information address Sistbb 
SUPERIOR, Notre Dame Academy, 9893 
iVashington Street, Roxbury, Mass. 



CATONSVILLE, INARYLAND. 

MOUNT DE SALES, 
ACADEMY OF THE VISITATION. 
Buildings and grounds extensive and attiae- 
dve. Situation healthful ; and Tiew of Balti* 
more, hills, river, and bay beautiful. Accesij 
ble by electric car routes. Thorough work la 
English, Science, Music, Art, and Langnaget, 
Illustrated catalogues sent, on application to 
The Directress. 



MOUNT ST. MARY'S COLLEGE, 

Near Emmitsbur q, Md. 

Sixty miles from Baltimore. Conducted by 
Secniar Clergymen, aided by Lay Professors. 

High Standard of Studies and Discipline. 

Classical, Scientific, and Commercial Courses. 

Modem improvements. New Athletic Field. 
Fully equipped Gymnasium. Swimming Pool. 

sieparate department for young boys. 

Ninety-sixth year begins Septembei 11, 1903. 
Address V. Rev. William L. O'Hara, LL.D., 

Mount St. Mary's Colleee Station, Maryland. 



ST. BENEDICT'S ACADEMY 

For Young Ladies. 

St. Mary's, Elk Co., Pa. 

The curriculum embraces the ordinary ele- 
mentary and higher branches. Bpokkeeplngi 
Stenography, Typewriting, French, German, 
and Latin are optional. Special attention Is 
paid to Music and a polite deportment 

The location is remarkably healthful. Am- 
ple grounds. Terms, $75 per session of five 
months. For further particulars apply to 

Sister Directress. 



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POPE LEO," by his Secretary, with introduction 
by Cardinal Gibbons. 6 languages. Magnifi- 
cent i2-color lithogiaph, 13x16, fre« with book. 
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PATRICK McBRADY, Star Building, Chic agOlV^ 



COLLEGES AND ACADEMIES. 



■T. ANSELM*S COLLEGE, 

Manchester, N. H. 
Conducted by the Benedictine Fathers. Com- 
plete Classical, Scientific, and Commercial 
courses; besides an Elementary School for 
beginners. Imposing: buildinj^, extensive 
grounds, and healthy location. Easily reached 
Kom New York, Pennsylvania, and the New 
England States. For .Catalogue, etc., address 
Rt. Rev. Hilary Pfrabnole, O.S.B. 

NAZARETH ACADEMY, 

Concordia, Cloud Co., Kansas. 
This boarding-school, for the practical edu- 
aition of young ladies, is under the care of the 
Sist^ of St. Joseph, and has justly earned the 

autation of being one of the most successful 
ools in the West. This institution has always 
enjoyed a high reputation for its musical train- 
ing. Address Mother Superior. 

8T. JOSEPH'8 ACADEMY, 

TiTUSVILLE, Pa. 

Under the care of the Sisters of Merer. Terms 
$15.00 per month. For young ladies, little boys 
and girls. Complete course of English, Ger^ 
■an, and Latin. Private lessons in Music, 
SCsnography, and Typewriting. Kindergarten. 

For further particulars apply to 

The Mother Superior. 

BOMINICAN COLLEGE, 

San Rafael, California. 
For young ladies. Conducted by the Sisters 
•f St. Dominic. Full Collegiate course of 
■tody. A Boarding School of highest grade. 
Saperb modem building, steam heated ; beauti- 
faC commodious class-rooms, Music and Art 
looms. Location the lovely Magnolia Valley, 
nnsurpassed for beauty and healthf ulness. Ad- 
MoTHBR Superior. 



B0ABDIN6 SCHOOL FOB Y0UN6 
LADIES. 

Founded in 1848. 

Under the patronage of Right Rev. P. J. 
Donahue, D.D„ Bishop of Wheeling. 

First-class tuition in all branches. Ideal and 
healthful location. Climate desirable for deli- 
•ate girls. 

For prospectus, address The Directress, 

Mount de Chantal, Wheeling, W. Va. 

ACADEMY OF THE TISITATION, 

Dubuque, Iowa. 
Bttrdini Sohttl fir Ymb| Uullat. 

For catalogue apply to 

The Directress. 

THE ABCADIA COLLEGE. 

ilMdt«y if the UrsHllM Sisters. Far Yemt Ladles. 
Arcadia Valley, Iron Co., Mo. 
This is one of the finest educadonal estab- 
lishments in the West. The location is smgu- 
larly healthy, being situated several hundred 
feet above St. Louis. The air is pure and in- 
vigorating. Terms for board and tuition very 
isasonabie. Apply to Mother Superioress. 

iCADEMY FOR lOUNG LADIES, 

944 Lexington Avenue. New York. 
Conducted by the Sisters of St. Dominic. 
All the branches of a liberal education taught. 
Special attention given to music, art, and the 
luiguages. An excellent Kindergarten con- 
ittcted at the Institution. Boys under ten ad- 
mitted to Kindergarten and Preparatory De- 
paitaents. For full particulars address 

Dominican Sisters. 



ST. YINCENT'S ACADEMY. 

Conducted bv the Sisters of Charity. Board- 
ing and day school for roung ladies. 

Classical, commercial, and scientific cooraas 
complete. Special attention to Music and 
Drawing. Painting, Stenography, and Type- 
writing. Terms moderate. For particulan 
address Sister Superior, 

St. Vincent's Academy, Helena, Moht. 

ACADEMY OF THE HOLY NAMES. 

Ross Park, Spokane, Wash. 
Boarding and day school for girls. CoiB* 
plete courses—English, art, music, and laa- 
guages. Extensive grounds. Spacious build- 
ings. Location unsurpassed. For catalogiMS 
address Sister Superior. 



LOBETTO HEIGHTS ACADEMY, 

Near Denver. Loretto P. O., Colorado. 

This magnificent Institution; conducted by 
the Sisters of Loretto, offers all the advaiii- 
tages of a superior education. For health and 
beauty the location is unsurpassed. Addresi 

Sister Superior, Loretto P. O., Colormdo. 

ST. JOSEPH'S ACADEMY, 

Fifth and Jackson Sts., Oakland, Cai» 

Select boarding and day school for boys na- 
der 14 years of age. For particulars send for 

Krospectus, or apply either at St. Mary's Col* 
ige, Oakland, Sacred Heart College, Saa 
Frandsco, or to 
Brother Genebern, Director. 

NIAGABl UNIYEBSITY, 

Near Niagara Falls, N. V. 
Seminary and College of our Lady of Angeli. 
Chartered by the University of the Sute of N. 
V. to confer University Degrees. ClasBical« 
Scientific, and Commercial courses. Tenas s 
$900 in Seminary ; $990 in College. AddrsM 

Rev. p. McHale, CM.. Pres., 
Niagara University P.O., Niagara Co., N. T. 

NOTBE DAME ACADEMY, 
Lowell, Mass. 
Founded in 185a. This school continues tiM 
careful training and thorough instructioa te 
every department for which it has hitherto bees 
so favorably known. For particulars addresi 
The Supbriob. 



ST. LEO COLLEGE, 

St. Leo, Pasco Co., Florida. 

Preparatory, Commercial, and Claaslad 
Courses. 

Rt. Rev. Charles H. More, O.S.B., 
President. 

NOTRE DAME ACADEMY, 

Waterbury, Conn. 

This Institution, under the direction of the 
Sisters of the Congregation of Notre Dame, 
offers all the advantages of a superior educa- 
tion. Kindergarten, preparatory, junior, and 
Academic departments. Course leads up to Col- 
lege entrance. Drawing, painting, and musk are 
taught according to the most advanced methods. 

Apply to Mother Superior. 



COLLEGES AND ACADEMIES. 



ST. SCHOLASTICA'S CONVENT, 

Shoal Creek P. O., Looan Co., Ark. 
This Academy, conducted by the Benedictine 
Sifters, situated in a yenr healthy place, in the 
■orthwestem part 6( Arkansas, aiSords parents 
one of the best opportunities to giye their 
dmiii:hters a thorou|:h education. 
For further information apply to 

Mother Superior. 

Academy of Our Lady of Lourdes, 

194 Franklin Ave., Cleveland, Ohio. 
Conducted by the Sisters of the Holy Hu- 
■sility of Mary. Kindergarten, Preparatory, 
Academic, and Commercial Departments. 
Plain and Fancy Needlework. Priyate lessons 
Ib the various studies. Preparatory and Ad- 
▼mnced Courses in Vocal and Instrumental 
Mnsic, Elocution, Painting in Oil, Water 
Colors, China, etc. 

UR8UUNE ACADEMY, 

MlDDLBl^WN, N. Y. 

A Boarding School for Young Ladies. 

For terms send for prospectus or apply at 
Academy. 

ACADEMY OF THE VISITATION 

Frederick, Maryland. 

Boarding School for young Ladies (Found- 
ed in 1846). For catalogue apply to 

Directress. 



ST. FRANCIS' COLLEGE, 

Brooklyn, N. Y. 

For Boarders and Day Scholars, with pow- 
•rs to confer Degrees. 

A good school and terms reasonable. 

Apply to President, Brother Jerome, 
O.S.F., or send for Catalogue. 

SACRED HEARr ACADEMY. 

For Young Ladies.^Conducted by the Sis- 
ters of Mercy.— Bblmont, Gaston Co., N. C. 

This institution is pleasantly situated near 
St. Mary's College, is furnished with all mod- 
em improvements, steam heating, electricity, 
ttc, and offers every advantage for education 
End health. Apply for catalogue to 

Sister Directress. 

ST. CATHERINE'S ACADEMY, 

Racine, Wisconsin. 
This institution affords young ladies every ad- 
tantage of a solid and refined education, com- 
prising the following departments, vis. : Aca- 
demic, Normal, Literary, Commercial, Music, 
Art. Diplomas will be granted to graduates 
of each department. For catalogue and further 
particnlars address The Directress. 

ST. JOSEPH'S ACADEMY, 

St. Augustine, Fla. 

This institution is conducted by the Sisters of 
St. Joseph. The course of studies comprises 
iU the branches requisite for a solid and re- 
ined education. 

Catalogue sent on application. 



ST. MARY'S ACADEMY, 

Nauvoo, Ilu 
Boarding School for Young Ladies. 
For catalogue containing information ad- 
dress 

Mother M. Ottiua Hoeveler, O.S.B. 

VILLANOVA COLLEGE, 

Near -Philadelphia* 
Delightful LoomUon. 

Thorough Couraea* 

Reaaonablo Toxauu 

New Buildings containing every accommo- 
dation. A large number of prtoatt r09wu. 
Send for a Prospectus.. 

Rev. L. a. Delurey, O.S.A., Pres. 

ST. JOSEPH'S ACADEMY, 

Emmitsburo, Maryland. 
Conducted by the Sisters of Charity. Beau- 
tifully situated among the Blue Ridge Moun- 
tains. Classical and Scientific Courses. Spe- 
cially organised departments of Music and Art. 
Well equipped Library and Laboratory. 
Steam heat and Electric light. Terms, $350.00 
per Academic year. Letters of inquiry dired- 
ed to The Mother Superior. 

NOTRE DAME OF MARYLAND, 

Charles Street Ave., Baltimore, Md. 

College for Young Women and Prepara- 
tory S<£ool for Girls. Regular and Electivt 
Courses. Extensive Grounds. Location nil* 
surpassed. Suburb of Baltimore. Spadovi 
Buildings. Completely Equipped. Conduct- 
ed by School Sisters of Notre Dame. 

SACRED HEART COLLEGE, 

Watertown, Wisconsin. 
■raneh ef Notre Dame University, Indiana. 
Thorough Classical, £lnglish, Commerdaly 
and Preparatory Courses. Terms moderate* 
Buildings heated by steam. Home comforts* 
For further information and catalogues appty 
to Rev. J. O'Rourke. C.S.C, President. 

ST. MARY'S ACADEMY and 
BoihUng Sehool for Toui| LatfM. 

Burunoton, Vermont. 
Complete Educational Facilities. Healthfvl 
Climate in the Pineries. Terms moderate. 
Send for Catalogue to 

Mother Superior. 

Saint Mary's Academic institute. 

For the higher education of young ladies. 
Conducted by the Sisters of Providence from 
Ruille-sur-Loir, France. Chartered in 18461 
and empowered with rights to confer Academic 
Honors and Collegiate Degrees. The locatioE 
is ideal ; the equipments are elegant and com- 
plete; the facilities for highest intellectual, 
moral, and religious culture are unsurpassed. 

For Illustrated Prospectus address SiSTERf 
OF Providence, Saint Mary*s, Vigo Co., Ind. 

ACADEMY OF ST. CATHERINE 
OF SIENNA. 

Sprinofirld, Washington Co., Ky. 

Situated in a lovely valley, and in charge of 
the Dominican Sisters. 

To insure a solid, practical education is tht 
aim of this institution. Special studies in ths 
languages, painting, music, both vocal and is* 
strumental. Address Mother Prioresp. 



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COLLEGES AND ACADEMIES. 



ST. ANN'S ACADEMY, 

Marlboro, Mass. 
Pint-class boardings-school for youni: ladies ; 
directed by the Sisters of St. Ann. The lo- 
ealitf is one of the most healthy In the United 
States. Terms are very moderate, with atten- 
tion to all the usetnl and ornamental branches. 
Complete Classical Course in both English 
and French. For further particulars apply to 
Sister M. ALBZANDRiifB, Sup. 

ACADEMY OUB LADY OF FEB- 
PETUAL UELF. 

Under the care of the Benedictine Sisters. 
For particulars apply to 

SiSTBR SUPBRIOB, 

Albany, Orboon. 

ACADEMY OF THE SOCIETY OF 
THE HOLY CHILD JESUS, 

St. Lbohard*8 House, 

3833 CHESThUT St., West Phila. 

This Institution is prindpailT intended for 
iiT scholars, but a limited number of boarders 
will be received. 

Boys under thirteen years of dige will be re- 
edTed at the Convent. For particulars apply 
to Mother Superior. 

ST. THEBESA'S ACADEMY, 

Boise, Idaho. 

Boardini: and Day School for young ladies 
End children. 
Conducted by 

The Sisters or Holy Cross. 



CONTENT of OUB LADYof LOUBDES, 

East Oakland, Caufornia. 
Boardings-school for young: ladies, conduct- 
•d by Sisters of Mercy. The course of studies 
tmbraces all the branches of a thorough Eng- 
lish education. Pupils will be received at any 
dme during the year. For further particulars 
apply to the Sister Superior. 

ST. XATIEB*S ACADEMY, 

Beatty, Pa. 
Conducted by Sisters of Mercy. Building 
famished with all modem conveniences. Ex- 
tensive lawns. Course thorough. Music, 
Drawing, Languages, Phonography, and Type- 
Writing extra charges. For catalogue apply to 
Directress of Academy. 

ttETUSEMANI COLLEGE. 

Conductt d by the Trappist Fathers. 
Every care uken to impart a practical, bud- 
Bess education to young men. 

First Session begins September 3 ; Second Ses- 
sion, February i, but students will be re :eived 
It all times. For particulars, etc , address 
Rt. Rev. M. E. Obrecht, O.C.R., 
Gethsemani Abb&y, Trappist P. O., 
Nelson Co.. Ky. 

pkoyii>f:nce academy 

For Youn^ Ladies. Conducted by the Sis- 
ters of Charity. Vancouver, Wash. 

No distinction is made in the reception of 
pupils on account of their religious opinions, 
acd all interference with the convictions of 
non-Catholics is carefully avoided. Good or- 
der, however, requires that all pupils should 
conform to the general regulations of the house. 

For further information iddrens 

Sister Superior. 



ST. JOHN'S UNITESSITY, 

COLLEGEVILLE, MlHR. 

Best Catholic College in the North-west. 
Conducted by Benedictine Fathers. Finest lo- 
cation in America. All ' branches taught. 
Bookkeeping a specialty. Entrance at any 
time. Terms reasonable. Address 

The Rev. Vice President. 

MOUNT NOTBE DAME ACADEMY, 

Reading, Ohio. 
A boarding-school for girls, conducted by the 
Sisters of Notre Dame. Remarkable record, 
during forty years, for excellent health and snc^ 
cessf ul training in every department of an acade- 
mic curriculum. Students prepared for Trinity 
College. Apply to The Superioress. 

ACADEMY OF THE SACBED HEABT, 

Grand Coteau, La. 

Its special object is to train the characters of 
pupils and ground them in solid religions 
principles, sparing no p^ns to cultiTSte thab 
minds and teach them the various accomplish* 
ments required by their position in society. 

Address Sister Superior. 

ACADEMY OF THE VISITATION, 

Tacoma, Wash. 
Boarding and day-school for young ladies tmd 
children. Thorough instruction is given in all 
the English branches, art, music, elocution, aad 
modem lan^ages. The school is thoroughly 
equipped with latest scientific apparatus, gs*> 
logical cabinet, library, and lecture-haU, with a 
good stage, etc For further particulars applj 
to Sisters of the Visitation, South liu 
and I Streets, Tacoma, Wash. 

VISITATION ACADEMY, 

Park Ave. and Centre St., Baltimore, Mdw 
Directed by Sisters of the Visitation. Estab- 
lished 1837. Ranks among the best schools ol 
Baltimore. Academic, Intermediate, Junior, 
and Preparatory Departments. 

No extra charge for teaching French aad 
Latin. Monthly reports of conduct and class 
standing. Sister M. Aoatha Scott, Sup. 



ACADEMY, 

Conducted by the Si; ters of the Holy CMld 
Jesus at Waseca, Minn. Address 

Sister Superior. 



ST. CECILIA ACADEMY, 

Nashville, Tenn. 

A Boarding School for Young Ladies. 

Collegiate course of study, sound, logicali 
thorough. Music and Art Departments con- 
ducted by teachers of great skill and experience. 

Object— to give pupils a thorough educatioa 
of mind and heart, to help them develop healthy 
bodies, womanly characters, and gracious man- 
ners. Climate genial, invigorating, eminently 
helpful to delicate constitutions. 

Apply to Dominican Sisters. 






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IN THE HIGHLANDS AND 

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A beautiful illustrated folder has been is- 
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sent to any one free of charge, 

W. L. DANLEY, Gen'l Pass. Agent, 

MAaMVILLM, TMNM, 

Mention this magazine. 




**A sublime spectacle.*' 

NIAGARA 
FALLS. 



One of the natural wonders of 
the world. A charming place at 
any season of the year, reached 
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NEW YORK CENTRAL LINES. 

A visit to the Falls is an object 
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latest developments of the indus- 
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▲ copy of ** America's Summer Re- 
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receipt of a postage stamp by George 
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New York Central & Hudson River Rail- 
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M%ttk edition, ReTlse<l. 



GUIDE 



FOR 



Catholic Young Women. 

Especially for Those who Earn Their Own Living. 
By tlie RCT. GBORGB DBSHON, 

Congregation of St, Paul the Apostle, 
tSMO, 310 RAQm9. RmOE, aO OENT9, 

The practical value of this book to young women cannot be over-estimated. It is also 
a fitting gift for parents to give their daughters, or employers to present to women em- 
plovees. Says an eminent Oitholic prelate : ** So highly do I esteem it that I have preach- 
ed it from cover to cover to a Young Ladies* Sodalitv.'* 

The Reverend Clergy will find the book a valuable auxiliary in their parochial work. 



CATHOLIC AND PROTESTANT COUNTRIES COMPARED. 

By Rev. Alfred Young, Paulist. 

A Social Study. Which ia the Beat Ciyilizer ? 



Topics Treated: 



Criminology, Illegitimacy, Pauperism, 
Illiteracy. 



Testimonies from non-Catholic Authorities only used. 

033 pp. Pricey oiothy 81 ; paper oovery OO cts. 

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QUESTION BOX. 



Life of Christ 10,000 SOld. 

Profusely Illustrated. 800 pp. 

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Question Box. Answers all questions 
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CATHOLIC WORLD 

MAOAZINE. 

Edited by the Paulist Fathers. 



REDUCED TO $3.00 A YEAR. 



SUBSCRIPTION DMPARTMBNT. 

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New York, or through news-dealers. • 

To any one securing four other subscribere the 
Magazine will be sent free. 

Remittances may be made by Check, Draft, Ex- 
press, or Money-Order, but should be made payable 
to The Catholic Worid Magazine. Letters containing 
Cash should be registered. 

If the news-dealer in your vicinity does not 
carry The Catholic World Magazine on his coun- 
ter, ask him to send for it, through his News Com* 
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We want reliable Subscription Agents In all parts of 

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AN INQUIRY. 

Did you ever think of spending some of the church funds 
for the distribution of literature ? You spend a couple 
of hundred dollars for Candelabra or Stations of the 
Cross, or on a new pulpit. Why not put a good book into 
the hands of every parishioner ? Try PLAIN FACTS, or 
other books, and see how much good it will do. Get the 
people to pass them around to their non-Catholic friends. 



In anticipation of a buay dcasion 
the Catholic Boole Exchange lia» jxxmt 
printed 

50,000 ^'opies of Plain Facts for Fair 

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BY REV. G. M. SEARI^B. 
lo cents a copy. 

33,000 ^'opi'^' Cle'arine: the Wav. 

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xo cento a copy. 

I 00,000 <'op'''' <'^ The Mass Book. 

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CATHOLIC BOOK EXCHANGE, 
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THE 



CATHOLIC WORLD. 



MONTHLY MAGAZINE 



OF 



General Literature and Science. 



Vol. LXXVII. SEPTEMBER, 1903. No. 462. 



PUBLISHED BY 

THE PAULIST FATHERS, 

120 West 60th Street, New York. 



New York: 
THE OFFICE OF THE CATHOLIC WORLD, 

P. 0. Box 2, Station N. 

Entered at the Post-Office as Second-Class Matter, 

DEALERS SUPPLIED BY THE AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY. 

N.B.— The postas:e on ** The Catholic World " to Great Britain and Ireland, France, 
Belgium, Italy, and Germany is 6 cents. 



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A CHOICE QIRT' 

JLIFE OF CMRIST. By FATHER ELLIOTT 

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The book answers over i,ooo questions asked by 
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