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THE
CAT^pLJC WORLD,
MONTHLY MAGAZINE
OF
General I^iterature and Science
PUBLISHED BY THE PAUUST FATHERS.
VOL. I.XXXIII.
APRIL, 1906, TO SEPTEMBER, 1906.
NEW YORK :
THE OFFICE OF THE CATHOLIC WORLD,
120 West 6oih Street.
1906.
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JESUS Crucified
READINGS ON THE PASSION OF
OUR LORD.
By FATHER ELLIOTT, Patilist
'* This is an extremely devotional and edifying series of meditations on the
Passion pf out Lord, the ripe fruit of a life-long devotion to Christ Crucified. It
is well adapted for readings to the people during the Mass in the Lenten seasou.'* —
Am, Catk. Quarterly,
*' The pious faithful will find it an admirable book for spiritual reading, and it will
help priests both at the prie-dieu and in the pulpit. The treatment of the subject is
fresh and interesting." — the Irish Monthly,
** It has the power of drawing one close to the cross. It broadens and deepens
one's understanding of the great mystery of suffering." ■ Tkt New Century,
** There is a clearness and simplicity in Father Elliott's treatment of his subject
that is very attractive. The child as well as the mature adult may read it with profit."
— Catholic Advance,
*' How beautiful, indeed, are the meditations on the divine passion found on
nearly every page in this book, so full of love for our dear Lord — true pearls beyond
price." — Intermountain Catholic,
*^ This volume carries with it the fervor and conviction of a messenger who has
received his inspiration close to the cross " — Catnolic Vniverse.
Price, $1 .00. Postage, 10 cents extra.
THE COLUMBUS PRESS,
I90 ^re«t 6otl> Street, NB^T YORK.
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CONTENTS.
Catholic Teachers and Educational Pro-
y^ gress. — Thomas Edward Shields^
Pk,D., . . . . . .93
Catholic Teachers and the History
of Education.— jEV/fMtr^ A, Pace^
/ Ph.D., 1
Celibate, A Determined.--/M»i> Drake., 32
Christian Apologetics, A Study in Early.
•^Patrick J, Healy,D,D., . . 433
Christianity, The Spiritual Value of. —
Rev, Thomas /. Gerrard^ . , 625
Church and Her Saints, The. — fames J,
Fox^ D.D.^ 81
Columbian Reading Union, The, 139, 283,
427. 573. 716, 863
Convert, The Expectation 0/ the. — A,
M. F, Cole, . . . . . 806
Current Events, 123, 246, 408, 537, 700, 841
Dante and the Spirit of Poetry.— ^iV-
iiam Barry y D.D., . . . •145
Dreyfus Case, Some Notes on the. —
fames /, Fox, D.D., ... 664
English Education, The Crisis in. —
William Barry ^ D.D., , . . 642
English Seventeenth-Century Poetry,
Childhood in.— Z^«m^ Imogen Gut-
'^O'. . 447
Faith, The Margin oi.-^ George M,
SearUy C.S.P., .... 65
Father Hecker, Some Letters of. — Aih'
bot Gasguei, O.S.B , . 233, 356, 456
Foreign Periodicals, 134, 274, 419, 564,
7". 852
France, The Religious Situation in. —
Max lurmann, LL D , , . 612, 759
Fr^ciscan Centenary, Ihe.— Paschal
Robinson, 0,F.M , . . . .338
Franciscan Studies, Non-Catholic Work
in. — R, E,, 721
Francis, St., and Modern Society. — Fa-
ther Cuthbert, 0,S.F,C., . 299
Francis, St., The Catholicism of. —
Montgomery Carmichael, . , 289
Francis, St., The Love and Humility of.
Countess de la Warr, . . . 332
Hamlet the Dane.— i4. W, Corpe, . . 652
Ireland Under Charles W.-^William F,
Dennehy., 522
Japanese Sketches. — A, Lloyd, M.A,^
508, 619
Johnson, Lionel : Poet and Critic. —
Katherine Bfigy, .... 466
Life and Money. — William /. Kerby^
Ph,D , 43. »7i
*Liza of the Alley.— i^. F. Quintan, . 746
Miramion, Madame de. — Hon, Mrs, M,
M, Maxwell Scott y ... 72, 192
Narcissus. — feanie Drake, 302, 315. 483,
598. 733
New Books, 103, 257, 393, 550, 680. 829
Newman and Littlemore. — Wilfrid
Wilber/orce, ..... 577
Newman*s Littlemore. — Louise Imogen
Guiney, 820
Nietzsche, Friedrich, Studies on. — M, D,
Peire, 159.345
Open-Mindedness — Joseph McSorley,
C.SP, 18,330
Passmg of thie Goddess, The.— Z^/iVi
Hardin Bu(g^ .... 366
Philip, Duke of Wharton.— »^j///Vi»f F,
bennehy^ 793
Prayer of Christ, lYi^.^George Tyrrell,
SJ, 54
Renouncements. — Thomas B. Reilly, . 497
Richard the Third.— ^. W. Corpe, . 778
Shadow Portrait, The.— i/ary Cathe-
rine Crowley, 769
Submerged, Among the. — M. F. Quin-
tan, 179
Ward's, Mrs. Wilfrid, New Novel.—
fames /. Fox, D.D , . . .383
POETRY.
Mary Immaculate, To.— ^r. M, Wit/rid, O.S,D,,
232
182753
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IV
Contents.
NEW PUBLICATIONS.
Ancient Egyptians, .The Reliicion of the, 120
Ancient Plain Song, An Earnest Appeal
for the Revival of the, . . . 109
Angels, A Book on the, . ... 683
Anglicanism, Aspects of, . . . 270
Apocalvpie, The ; 1 he Anti-Christ and
the End, 55.1
Balzac, 838
Billy, Miss : A Neighborhood Story, . 122
Cana ; or, Little Chapters on Courtship,
Marriage, Home, .... 558 n
Casentino, The, and Its Story, • • 113
Catholic Church Hymnal, . . . 1 10
Catholic Laymen, Great, . . . 834
Catholiques Fran^ais, Les, et leurs Dif-
ficultis Actuelles, . . . .260
Christianity and the Working Classes, 691
Christian Origins, 554
Cistercian Order, The, . . . . 840
City Government for Young People, . 687
Court and Cloister, Studies from, 263
Darwinism and Evolution, Attitude of
Catholics towards, .... 105
Dissociation of a Personality, The, . 272
Does it Matter Much What I Believe ? 269
England, The Political History of, X15, 400
Eternal Sacrifice, The, .... 559
Faith and the Epistles and Gospels,
Meditations on tne Mysteries of, . 687
Far East, The New, .... 696
Field of Glory, On the, .... 263
Fortifjring the Layman, .... 552
Franas, St , of Assisi, .... 257
Francis, St., of Assisi, The Writings
of, »»3»a57
Francois, St., d* Assise, Les Opuscules
de, 257
Gilbert. Sir John, LL.D., F.S.A , Life
of, 402
God and Human Suffering, • . • 259
God, The Existence of, . . . . 680
Gospels, The Witness of the, . . 680
Graces d*Oraison, Des., Trait6deTh6-
ologie Mystique, 557
Hearts and Creeds, .... 558
Holy Communion, Ancient Devotions
for, 262
Irish Catholics and Trinity College, . 829
I Salmi 121
J6sus Christ, La Transcendance de, . 684
J6sus Christ, L'Imitation de, . .119
Jewish Settlement in America, The Two
Hundred and Fiftieth Anniversary of, 551
John, Saint, and the Close of the Apos-
• tolic Age, 104
Joseph*s Help, St. ; or, Stories of the
Power and Efficacy of St. Joseph's In-
tercession, 268
Lamp, The 406, 563
Letters from the Beloved City to S. B.
from Philip, 396
Lex Credendi, 561
Life and Matter, 393
Literary Criticism, A Handbook of, . 695
Liviog Wage, A, 688
L'Oraison de Simplicite. La Premiere
Nuit de Sbint Jean de la Croix, . . 557
Louisiana : A Record of Expansion, . 119
Mass, The Ordinary of the. Historically
Liturgically, and Exegetically Ex-
plained, • 560
Miracles of our Lady Saint Mary, Ihe, 686
More, hir Thomas, The Household of, 11 1
Newman : Essai de Diographie Psycho-
logique, 555
Newman : M6ditations et Pridres Tradu-
ites par Marie- Agn^s P6rat, • . 555
Pardoner's Wallet, The, . . .116
Patrick, St., The Life and Writings of, 102
Pearl ; or, a Passing Brightness. . . 683
Pedagogy, Elements of Practical, . - 117
Pensie Catholique dans I'Angleterre
Contemporaine, La 836
Pentateuch, The Problem of the, . . 833
Philippine Experiences of an American
Teacher, The, 837
Pilgrim Walks in Rome, . . .684
Privilege, The Menace of, . . . 831
Progress, 1 he 1 hree Ages of. . . 2or
Prying Among Private Papers, . . 3^6
Pulpit and Pew, Elementary Apologet-
ics for 268
Queen Mary of Modena : Her Life and
Letters 397
Recollections, •107
Sainte Messe Exposie aux Fiddles, La
Doctrine de la, 560
Saintly Women, A Dictionary of, . 118
Savonarola. Fra Girolamo, . . . ^.98
Science et de la Bible, Les Conflits de
la 685
Science et Religion, .... 681
Science Modeme, La Providence et le
Miracle devant la 395
Scripture, The Tradition of : Its Origin,
Authority, and Interpretation. . . 265
Self-Knowledge and Self-Discipline, . 682
Seraphic Keepsake, The, Words of
Counsel, and Praise of God Most
High 113
Sun or Shade, In, 266
Theosophy and Christianity, . . 260
Trailers of the North 686
Umbria. The Cities of, . . . •113
Unseen World, The, ... 269
V6nard, The Venerable Tld^phane:
A Modem Martyr 122
Vers ritglise Libre, .... 403
Western Catholic Review, Tl e, . . 699
Women, 1 he Subjection of, . . . 264
World's Progress, Key to the. . . 550
Volanda, Maid of Burgundy, . . 406
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THE
CATHOLIC WORLD.
Vol. LXXXIII. APRIL, 1906. No. 493-
CATHOLIC TEACHERS AND THE HISTORY OF
EDUCATION.
BY EDWARD A. PACE. Ph.D.
FEW decades ago one might have written with
profit a dissertation on the utility and necessity,
for teachers, of studying the history of educa^
tion. One would then have insisted on the ad-
vantage of knowing how principles, methods, and
institutions have developed, through what vicissitudes educa-
tion has passed, and by what factors it has been influenced.
Beside the general argument that the present can be under-
stood only by studying the past, there would have been special
lines of reasoning. The student of any science must acquaint
himself with its history. The student of education must know
something of the great educational reformers. The fate of
each reform — its measure of success or failure — must help us
to estimate the value of the new things that are proposed to
us. And so forth; the argument would have convinced any
intelligent teacher, and the conviction would have been stronger
because, fifty years ago, the spirit of historical inquiry reached
its predominance. Everything — from the solar system down,
or up, to the teacher's own mind — was viewed as the result of
a development. In what other way could educational theory
and practice have come to be?
At present, however, no such argument is needed. As a
Copyright 1906. Thb Missionary Socibtt of St. Paul the Apostle
IN THE State of New York.
VOL. LXXXIII. -~ I
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2 Catholic Teachers [Aprils
matter of fact, teachers study the history of education. It is
an essential part of their professional training. It holds a
prominent place in the programme of normal schools, peda-
gogical institutes, and university departments of education. It
is outlined in manuals good, bad, and indifferent. Its details
are set forth in all sorts and sizes of publications, from the
doctorate thesis to the encyclopedia. And it is an important
item in those tests of knowledge which are the gateway to
promotion; it appeals to the practical reason.
If teachers in general need no urging to study the history
of education, it might seem superfluous to recommend this
study to Catholic teachers. Many of these, in fact, receive
the same training as their non-Catholic colleagues and fulfil
the same requirements. They are just as well persuaded as
any other class of teachers that a knowledge of the history of
their science is necessary; and they have, in their actual ex*
perience, equal opportunities of profiting by that knowledge.
There are some considerations, on the other hand, that
justify the title placed at the head of this paper. First, not
all our Catholic teachers are so situated as to feel that they
could make a direct and explicit use of their historical knowl-
edge. They are rarely called on to take part in discussions
of a public nature. Their work in the class-room and various
additional duties absorb their time. They have to teach just
these children that come into the school, according to the
best recognized methods of the present day. Under these cir-
cumstances, it may not occur to them that a knowledge of his-
tory would make them more efficient as Catholic teachers in
Catholic schools.
Then, it happens from time to time, that Catholic teachers
who follow courses in the history of education are surprised or
perplexed by certain statements which they hear or read.
" Standard works " seem occasionally to stand only for what
discredits the Church. Lecturers in high places still revel in
the myths of the " Dark Ages." The impression is conveyed
that the only valuable features in modern education are due
entirely to the Reformation and to subsequent movements out-
side the Church.
But again, the meaning of the history of education, like the
meaning of any other history, depends chiefly upon the point
of view from which the facts are considered. A simple enum-^
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i9o6.] History of Education 3
eration of systems and theories may have its utility, but it will
net be of real service to the teacher unless it is guided by
certain large views of a fundamental character and appreciated
in the light of principles. Whether a given change in educa-
tional lines really marks an advance is a question that can be
settled only by deference to some general idea of the nature
and purpose of education itself. The fact that an innovation
creates a stir, or that the innovator secures a large and enthu-
siastic following, does not necessarily prove that genuine pro-
gress has been made. Thus, to one way of thinking, it was a
great step forward when the teaching of religion was banished
from the school; while, to another way of thinking, nothing
could have been more disastrous.
The Catholic Church has definite ideas about the meaning
and aim of education. These ideas are the warrant and in-
spiration of the Catholic school. They are the criteria by
which the ultimate value of any educational theory is to be de-
termined. They are also the guiding principles through which
the past is to be surveyed. Presupposing an acceptance of
these principles, we may affirm that the study of the history
of education is more urgently the need and more explicitly the
duty of Catholic teachers than of any other class of persons
^ng^ged in educational work.
The specific function of the Catholic school is to impart a
training in morality and religion along with the knowledge of
secular subjects. The teacher does his work, not merely as an
individual nor as a state official, but as a co- operator in the
work of the Church. He must, therefore, be imbued with the
spirit of Catholicism, be conscious, as it were, of himself as
part of a larger organic unity. In a word, he must feel the
Church acting through him according to the measure of his
office and ability. Now what he is doing is nothing new. The
truth that he teaches is not of yesterday, tenable to-day and
to-morrow to be cast aside. It is what was taught from the
beginning. It has lived through centuries of change, of con-
flict, of widening civilization, of advancing knowledge, of un-
belief in various forms. It lives to-day, a vital, uplifting force.
To realize the vitality of Catholic truth is an essential duty of
the Catholic teacher.
Of this vitality abundant evidence is supplied by the gen-
eral history of the Church. But no items of the evidence are
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4 CATHOLIC TEACHERS [AprU,
•
more striking than those which are to be found in the history
of education. For when we view the record largely, two great
tacts confront us. One is that the Catholic Church has main-
tained, through all the course of her existence, the self- same
ideal of education. The other is that, in striving for the at-
tainment of this ideal, she has invariably adapted her action
to the changing conditions of humanity. Identity in substance,
modification of form, adjustment to environment, these are the
manifestations of life. A doctrine that has been taught to all
races of mankind, translated into every tongue, scrutinized by
every philosophy, and expounded in all sorts of theology, must
have in itself a power of survival which no merely human au-
thority could bestow.
What the Church considers as the ideal of education may
be easily ascertained and as easily understood. Had it never
been formulated in authoritative statement, nor explained in
the course of critical discussion, it would or might have been
inferred. Whoever realizes, on one hand the purpose of Chris-
tianity, and on the other the import of education, cannot fail
to see what the Church aims at in all her teaching. To Catho-
lics, especially, it must be clear that no other ideal could have
been consistently adopted. If the Church were just now enter-
ing upon the work of education, the simplest logic would en-
able us to forecast the nature of that work so far as it would
be determined by the end in view.
But history teaches the lesson more emphatically. It shows
us that the Church has not only proposed an ideal, but that
she has adopted every possible means for its realization. By
action stronger than any declaration, she has manifested her
appreciation of this ideal as the one worthy end of education.
It is no optional affair. It cannot be abandoned for fear of
opposition, nor bartered for the promise of peace.
How easy it would have been to accept the ideal of pagan
education. Supreme in culture, the Greek had been trained for
the State alone. Sovereign of the world, the Roman had been
schooled for the service of Rome. It had been a fruitful edu-
cation. Philosophy, letters, and art had flourished. Wealth
and the things that make life pleasant abounded. The craft of
the statesman and the wisdom of the lawmaker ruled an empire
won by hardihood and military skill. What better results or
what higher qualities of mind could be expected of a teaching
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i9o6.] History of Education 5
that did not proclaim public utility its ultimate aim? Yet the
Christian school, opened in the catacombs, had another ideal.
When the learned world, after fifteen centuries, turned back
to the classics of Greece and Rome, it would have been easier
still for the Church to yield. She certainly perceived the charm
and the power of humanism. That the Renaissance was possi-
ble, was due largely to her care in preserving the literature of
antiquity. And in the movement itself she took an active part.
From the human point of. view, it would have been wiser to
revive the spirit of the classic age, and to make the school an
instrument of the State. This, in fact, was the wisdom of the
Reformers. However they may have differed as to religious
doctrine, they were unanimous in declaring that education was
a function of secular power. And the secular power, on its
side, was not slow to perceive the advantage it would reap by.
taking over the work of education. Had the Church surrendered
ber ideal, she would have fared better, or, at any rate, would
have suffered less. The universities would not have been so
completely estranged, nor would the alienation of monastic and
other endowments have proceeded so rapidly. And yet, .with
a full appreciation of the consequences, she clung to her tradi-
tional view of education as she maintained her traditional be-
lief. As a result, she was obliged to reconstruct, in large part»
her educational system, to establish new institutions, and to.
provide new means for their support. To do all this in the
ace of opposition was no easy task. The fact that it was
done is distinct evidence of vitality.
The revolution in philosophy which ushered in the modern
period, necessarily affected men's views of education. Theories
concerning the soul, the destiny of man, the nature and limits
of knowledge, the meaning of morality, and the knowableness
of God, are bound to get practical application. In many in-
stances the philosophers themselves are the first to apply their
theories. Locke and Kant and Herbart and Spencer . are not
content to speculate on abstract notions They must see their
thought working out in the ^concrete, fashioning the minds that
are one day to be imbued with their philosophy. So it happer s
that ideas which, in their first conception and presentation,
seem quite remote from the interests of the teacher, do never-
theless make their way into the school, its organization, method,,
and life. Unwittingly, perhaps, the teacher becomes an expon-
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6 Catholic Teachers [April,
ent of philosophical notions, the origin of which he may not
even care to investigate. Were they presented to him in con-
centrated form, he would probably question their truth. Diluted,
they scarcely arouse his suspicion.
It is clear that the Church could not consistently sanction all
the doctrines advanced since the Reformation in the name of
philosophy. To begin with, these doctrines, viewed in bulk,
bristle with contradictions. Philosophers even are sorely puz-
zled to find a basis of reconciliation. When they openly agree
to disagree on fundamental questions, they cannot expect the
Church to give them, one and all, equal and authoritative ap-
proval. But when, so far as they do agree, their conclusions
tend to undermine those philosophical truths which are the
centre and source of Christian education, the Church must raise
her voice in protest.
The net result of modern philosophy has not been in favor
of those ideals which have always inspired the Catholic teacher
and permeated the Catholic school. If materialism is right when
it avers that there is no life in man higher than the life of the
body, it is obviously useless to say that education should pre-
pare for eternity. If agnosticism accurately fixes the bounds
of knowledge, any attempt to think of a divinely established
order, to which our intelligence and will should adjust their
activity, is foredoomed to failure. Nor are better results to be
expected from naturalism and pessimism, from any philosophy
that treats man as a mechanism, or degrades him to the level
of the brute.
Suppose now that the Church, swinging with the tide of
philosophical opinion, had consented to regard education as a
purely temporal affair. She would have been spared, no doubt,
a great many burdens and conflicts. She might, ostensibly,
have continued to proclaim the truth of the Gospel. The learned
world would have admired her policy, and the unlearned her
mildness. But her teaching would have lost the force of con-
sistency. The very reason that speaks in philosophy would
have condemned a religion that had one ideal for the pulpit,
and another for the school.
The Church, we are aware, made no such mistake. Whatever
merit she may have recognized in this or that system of phil-
she could not forget that the supreme end of educa-
lentical with the ultimate purpose of religion itself. To
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i9o6.] History of Education 7
philosophy simply as philosophy she was not averse. The
Fathers had learned from Plato, and the Schoolmen from Aris-
totle. But when the philosophers of the new time would have
placed the whole value of life in the present phase of exist-
ence, and when, as a consequence, education was regarded
purely as a means to worldly succesp, a new issue was forced
upon the Church. The question was no longer whether the
classics should be uppermost in the school curriculum, nor even
whether the tenets of Catholicism should form an essential
element of instruction. It was something more radical, a struggle
for the maintenance of Christian principles. It was, in a word^
a conflict of ideals.
Had the Christian world been united, the Christian ideal
might have won an easy triumph. As it was, the advantage
lay with the opponents of that ideal. Though Protestantism
had much at stake, it did not possess the internal vigor
requisite in such a clashing of the deepest religious and edu-
cational interests. However earnestly Luther, Melanchthon,
and other leaders of the Reformation may have planned and
striven in behalf of the school, their successors were unable to
cope with systems of philosophy which diverged more and
more from the line of Christian thought. The Church was
thus obliged to carry on single-handed a struggle ip defence of
her ideal against naturalism and materialism, rationalism and
agnosticism — against the claims of governments grown hostile
and the various movements that aimed at the secularization
of the school.
It- is just this struggle that divides the educational efforts
of our own time. Those who look only upon the surface of
things may imagine that differences in method, in system, in
organization, are the all-important differences. Others may
argue that control of the schools and distribution of school-
funds are the essential problems. But the slightest review of
educational, history shows that at bottom the question is:
What shall be the ideal of education? Answer this in accord-
ance with the teachings of Christianity, and all other difficulties
will be speedily. and logically arranged. Answer it in any
other spirit, and no amount of pedagogical wisdom or of care-
ful administration will effectually and permanently settle the
issue.
That the Church should not have yielded her position in
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8 Catholic Teachers [Aprit,
deference to the claims of discordant philosophical systems;
was due primarily to the character of the teaching which those
systems advanced. But philosophy itself has not enjoyed ab-
solute peace in its progress. For a century or more especially,
it has been forced to maintain its own struggle for existence.
It has had to meet the onset of the sciences and to make a
treaty with their results. Theoretically, the reconciliation de-
pends on the ability of philosophy to interpret the guidings
of science. In any acceptable ''theory of things," there must
be room for the facts of observation, and for the well*grounded
generalizations of scientific thought. Without waiting, how-
ever, for the final reply of philosophy, science has pushed for-
ward, in many directions, to the practical spheres of influence
which were once dominated by philosophical ideas. Upon
education, in particular, it has produced remarkable effects.
By constant additions to the aggregate of knowledge, it has
doubled and trebled the work of the school. By its contribu-
■ ions to our knowledge of life and mind, it has compelled a
revision of educational method. The principles of biology and
psychology have become indispensable guides in the work of
teaching, and, therefore, a necessary element in the teacher's
preparation. It is proper, then, to inquire in what way, or to
what extent, the Christian ideal of education is affected by the
progre^ss of science. We know, as a matter of fact, that the
Catholic school still clings to this ideal; but, in so doing,
doeis it set itself in opposition to scientific truth ?
It cannot be denied that, for some minds, the growth of
icnowledge has been prejudicial to the best interests of educa-
tion, as these are understood by the Church. As nature is
seen to be deeper and fuller, as life becomes richer in possi-
bilities, the need of looking toward a higher order of existence
is less keenly felt. Passing over the extreme view, which,
in the naihe of science, either doubts or rejects immortality,
there is a sort of forgetfulness in regard to man's destiny, the
result of too thorough absorption in the study of nature's
phenomena and laws. And this attitude, as may be readily
seen, is not favorable to the conception of education as the
means to a supernatural end.
Conversely, there is the undeniable fact that the Church, so
far as circumstances permitted, has furthered the development
of scientific knowledge. Shc' has not come forward hastily to
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adopt hypotheses that lived for a day, nor to champion theo-
ries which were still on trial and perhaps on the verge of con-
demnation. But she has accepted the genuine results of in-
vestigation, and given them the place they deserve in her
schools. To such recognition the facts of science are entitled,
not only because they are so many items of truth, but also
because they are evidences of the wisdom and power of the
Creator. A sincere appreciation of nature is no hindrance to
the acknowledgment and attainment of a supernatural destiny.
Acquaintance with physical law does not imply a reluctance to
obey the precepts of God. On the contrary, a- child who is
trained to look for the ultimate meaning of natural phenomena
may be easily niade to understand that the purpose of all right
thought and action is one and the same with the ideal of
Christian education.
Similarly, in regard to the modifications which the advance
of science has brought about in educational methods, the atti-
tude of the Church is clear and intelligible. She is not com-
mitted to this or that particular plan ; and much less does she
consider that any method is an end in itself. The history of
education shows only too plainly that the methods consigned
to oblivion far outnumber those which survive. Of the latter
class there is none so perfect as to command universal accept-
ance; and even those methods which have withstood the test
of practical application, owe their success mainly to their elas-
ticity. The doctrine of the relativity of knowledge may or
may not square with our philosophical views; but the rela-
tivity of education is beyond question. To overlook this point,
and to treat method as something absolute, would be an in-
version. The school would then serve merely as. an experiment
station; and the teacher's work would consist, not in training
pupils by method, but in testing methods by applying them to
the pupils.
In the judgment of the Church, the value of any method
depends on its relation to the final aim of education A theory
of teaching that sharpens the senses and the intelligence, while
it does nothing to strengthen the will, is one-sided. Complete
development of the faculties is an imperative need; but, just
in proportion as the need is supplied, the adjustment of the
whole mental life to its supreme ideal becomes more necessary.
Increase of power implies, or should imply, greater responsi-
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bility. Each improvement in method, because it enables the
mind to think more clearly and to act more energetically,
obliges us to consider more closely the direction which action
and thought shall eventually take. It would hardly be wise
in a shipbuilder to construct a floating palace and leave out
the compass. Neither speed nor luxury nor carrying capacity
will avail when the power of guidance is wanting. The same
is true of educational progress. It is not sufficient that we
profit by the aids which psychology or any other science may
furnish. We must also realize that, in accepting such aids, we
are under a deeper obligation to make sure that they are
rightly employed.
The Church, then, cannot be indifferent to the genuine ad-
vances in method which, in this or any future age, may render
education more fruitful. If she leaves the teacher free to se-
lect the methods which promise the best results, she is none
the less solicitous that those results should mean an approxi-
mation to her ideal. If, in other words, education is to im-
part power, widen the mental view, and secure keener insight»
it must also bring home to the mind with ever-growing clear-
ness, the truth of its destiny and enable it to lay hold more
firmly upon everlasting life.
Such considerations, it may be urged, go to show that the
Catholic ideal is quite compatible with real and permanent
progress. But is there in the maintenance of that ideal any-
thing that invigorates and furthers the work of education?
Suppose that some more immediate aim be kept exclusively in
view; would the result be any less significant or desirable?
Does not history prove that education has advanced according
as it was confined to man and his present interests, to nature
and the conquest of nature's domain? And, what is more to
the point, do we not owe the best elements in modern edu-
cation to thinkers who were not at all concerned with other-
world problems?
Let us grant for a moment that the correct view gives an
affirmative answer to the last two questions; it would still re-
main true that the Christian ideal is an influential factor. If
it led to no discovery or radical modification, it would at least
enable us to appreciate at their right value the changes in
method suggested by philosophy and science. The real signifi-
cance of a scientific discovery is gauged by its effect upon
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i9o6.] History OF EDUCATION n
the entire system of knowledge. Each new fact must be in-
terpreted; and when the interpretation is false, the resulting
error is serious in proportion to the importance of the fact it-
self. In education also, the final criterion can be none other
than the end we are seeking. Each step in the process is a
$ain if it leads towards that end, a loss if it diverges. The
ideal, then, of education can be no sterile concept unless>
through obvious inconsistency, we shape our course in such a
way as to defeat the purpose both of living and of learning.
There is, however, a further reply which goes to the root
of the matter. The Christian ideal is sometimes criticized for
looking beyond the limits of time and experience to find its
realization in an eternal order or state. It thus seems to un-^
•derrate, and perhaps altogether neglect, the life which we are
actually leading and the world of which we know at least
something. It would fill us so completely with concern for
the future as to make us heedless of the present, its opportu-
nities and its duties. And surely, if this criticism be valid,
the ideal in question is worse than useless; it is a positive
hindrance, and the first requisite in education is to set it aside.
No one, of course will maintain, seriously and literally, that
the Church proposes such an impossible aim as preparation
for the future with no thought for the present. But, on the
other hand, the nature of the Christian ideal is often mis-
understood, because the critic's attention is directed to the
end with no reference to the means. What the Church really
holds is that education, like every other form of human ac-
tivity, should be regulated in view of its ultimate purpose.
This, evidently, does not imply that life is simply an affair of
waiting, or that a single moment is trivial enough to be squan-
dered. It means, rather, that every moment, with its content
of thought, volition, and effort, gets its value principally
through its relation to eternity. Time is precious, we agree,
not because it passes so quickly, but because, in its passing,
so much may be accomplished Years spent in school are
valuable because, if spent profitably, they secure a richer har-
vest for the years that come after. And Christianity adds:
all life has its worth enhanced by the fact that it contains,
potentially, life everlasting. In proposing a higher ideal than
temporal success, the Church intensifies the importance of edu-
cation as a whole, and of its details. She also supplies an ade-
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12 Catholic Teachers [April,:
quate reason for making our knowledge and the means of ob-
taining it as perfect as possible. And she preserves, in prac-
tice as in theory, the unity of purpose which adjusts the natu-^
ral order to the supernatural destiny of man.
There results from this estimate of life a principle which
ought to underlie all educational method. It is the principle
of proportion. Herbert Spencer very properly inquires : What
knowledge is worth having? And his answer, though unsatis-
factory, brings out quite clearly the bearing of ideals upon the
structure of educational systems. The wise selection of sub-
jects for a curriculum is certainly no trivial matter. The time
allotted to the several subjects, the order in which they shall
be presented, the whole process of correlation, are questions
that demand careful consideration. Indeed, it would seem that
the one anxiety of some educators is to make the school teach
everything that may possibly be of use in practical life*— a.
tendency that emphasizes the need of proportion. If, then, in
this v enriched " curriculum, so little room is found for moral
training, and none at all' for the teaching of religion, the in-
ference plainly is that these subjects; are of little consequence
in the work of education. No syllogism could lead so effectu-
ally to a negative conclusion as does this object lesson in
values. The child may never hear a word against religion;,
but he learns, none the less, the relative value of things that
are taught. As to the things that are not taught, he forms no
estimate, or, it may be, he comes to regard them as. hardly
worth while. . ♦
Applying the same principle of proportion, the Church in-
sists that religion and morality shall have in the school a
prominence in keeping with their importance, and, moreover,
that they shall permeate the. entire work of education. If bal-
anced arrangement and orderly, sequence mean anything, there<
can be no doubt that a curriculum which includes the teaching,
of the highest truths is more logical and more complete than
one which omits that teaching.. If, again, the value of a school
subject be determined on the basis of utility- for life, it is hard
to see why religious knowledge is less useful than algebra or
physical culture. When life becomes so busy that there is no
time to think of its final purpose,, there is something wrong in
our estimate of values. Likewise, when a curriculum of study
is so crowded with other things as to leave no place for reli-
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gtous instruction^ there is evidently need of revision. Increase
of knowledge, and consequent multiplication of school subjects,
may necessitate a lengthening of the course or a shortening of
the time devoted to each subject; but the maintenance of pro-
portion is equally necessary. To banish the idea of God just
because we have found out more about his creation, is no
proof of consistency, and still less of true educational progress.
The history of education, notably in the modern period, re-
veals another tendency which is significant. Quite gradually
the conviction has grown that, from beginning to end, educa-
tion must be characterized by unity and continuity. There must
be no break nor any abrupt transition in the process. Ele-
mentary instruction must prepare the mind for its later mote
serious tasks. Habits of thought which are required for col-
lege and university work must have their inception at least
in the primary school. Ability to observe, to correlate, to ad-
vance from facts to laws, and to discern causes in their effects,
must be developed from the outset. And this adjustment, natu-
rally, must be a decisive factor, both in the selection of sub-
jects and in the choice of methods. If now, with the Christian
ideal in view, we give religion its place in the curriculum,
what result may we expect? Will we thereby hinder the
growth of scientific habits, or will we stimulate that growth ?
Take, to begin with, the idea of law. In some form, how-
ever elementary, this idea ought to be impressed upon the
child's mind in the earliest lessons from nature. By degrees,
and yet steadily, the insight should be developed that the
physical world is ruled by order and uniformity, that its vari-
ety is not chaos, nor its ceaseless change a succession of for-
tuitous events. It is intelligible only on the supposition that
its sequence and its harmony have somehow been pre-arranged.
The existence of law points to the existence of a lawgiving
power. If, then, the child be taught that this power is. a su-
preme intelligence, he will surely not narrow his view of na-
ture nor abandon his effort to find out its laws.
The same holds good of the idea of causation. Science, it
is truly said, cannot stop with mere description; it must seek
an explanation of the facts which it describes. The scientific
habit of thought is developed out of the natural tendency to
assign a cause for each observed effect. Keen analysis, careful
attention to details, comparison, hypothesis, and experiment
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14 Catholic Teachers [ApriU
are valuable just so far as they enable us to determine true
causal relations.
Inductive methods have their import for logic and their
application in research, because they are systematic ways of
singling out, among complex conditions, those which really
produce the effect. And the main purpose of putting ele-
mentary science into the school curriculum is to beget and
foster the habit of accounting for the phenomena which nature
presents. Our explanation may be limited to the causes which
are within our immediate reach, or it may go back to those
which are more remote, and finally to the concepts of matter
and force; our inquiry is always a demand to know the why
and the wherefore of things, and possibly their ultimate ground.
That the success we may hope for is largely dependent on our
training, every one admits. But the training itself is not less
thorough when it accustoms the mind to think of a First
Cause of which all things else are manifestations. Nor will
the preparation for scientific thinking be inadequate because the
various forms of finite causation are referred to their infinite
source.
It may, however, be urged that the teaching of religion is
incompatible with one of the essentials of modern education.
The idea of God is far removed from sensory perception; it
is metaphysical. If we admit the value of sense- training, we
cannot consistently warp the mind into lines of thought which
transcend the data of sense. We cannot quicken the activity
of eye and ear by speaking of realities that are neither seen
nor heard. History informs us that there is a close and logi-
cal connection between the philosophy that bases itself on ex-
perience and the educational theory which regards sensory
training as all-important. The trend of philosophy in recent
times has been in the direction of the empirical and the con-
crete; and, parallel to this movement, education has striven to-
bring the mind into actual touch with its objects through the
medium of perception.
In meeting this difficulty, it is not necessary to question
the value of. sense-training. It might, on the contrary, be
shown that the Church has always been careful to cultivate
the senses, and direct this activity. Religious instruction has
an educational value just because it supplies the intellect with
ideas of invisible reality. Definite answers are thereby given
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i9o6.] History of education 15
to those questions which inevitably spring up in the mind and
which become more pointed as the senses are more fully de-
veloped. Greater keenness of perception does not imply that
abstract thinking and principles can be dispensed with, but
rather that greater vigor is required on the part of the intel-
lect which elaborates the material furnished by sensation. The
effect, therefore, of religious instruction is not to counteract^
and much less to deaden, the perceptive faculties; it is to se-
cure for the higher faculties the power of grasp and penetra
tion which they naturally demand. The ideas of God, soul,,
creation,' and immortality represent, of course, objects that are
beyond the range of experience. An effort is required to form
them even vaguely, and still more to render them distinct and
in a measure accurate. The intellect must exert itself; but
the exertion is helpful and its results beneficial.
Were education an affair of the intellect alone, religious
ideas would still be serviceable. They would be an excellent
means of developing proportion in thought, of widening the
fundamental scientific concepts, and* of securing normal rela-
tions between the faculties of mind. But when we turn to the
more important purpose of education, and consider its possi-
bilities on the moral side, the advantages of religious instruc-
tion are immeasurably greater. To insist upon them here is
not my intention; they have been set forth so often, and they
are emphasized so forcibly by experience, positive and nega-
tive, that they need not so much new demonstration as care-
ful consideration. But it does concern us to know how the
question of moral training has been dealt with in the past*
What has been the basis of such training, its method and its
outcome ? How has it been affected by religious differences,
by secularization of the school and by philosophical tenden-
cies? History points to various experiments and expedients
that have been resorted to in the hope of securing more effec-
tual moral instruction. What has the same history to say
about the success of all these ?
Replies to such questions are certainly important for the
Catholic teacher. They are not furnished by speculation or by
the discussion of theories. They must be gotten by taking an
account of the facts. They must serve, in turn, as the basis
of the judgment which we pass upon each new scheme that is
now proposed. If it appear from the record that this plan or
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1 6 Catholic Teachers [April,
the other has been a failure, no wise educator will approve its
revival. If, in a given systenr., the essentials are sound while
the details need to be revised or adapted, the prudent course
is equally clear. The very interest we take in moral education
obliges us to make its methods as perfect as possible. Our
teaching in this respect should not lag behind the teaching of
purely intellectual subjects. Every useful suggestion offered
by the sciences of biology and psychology should be welcomed,
and criticism should be forestalled by our own eagerness to
improve.
The vitality of the Christian ideal is nowhere so conspicu-
ous as in the sphere of moral education. In one sense, it is
true, the conflict has been less sharp and differences of theory
less pronounced, because the need of some sort of moral train-
ing has been generally recognized. But in the selection of
^means and methods there has been, and there is now, no little
divergence of opinion. While Catholicism has all along main^
tained that morality must be based on religion, other systems
have been devised in which religion has no part. Without en-
tering into a discussion of their merits, the Church insists on
her ideal, because of its intrinsic value, and also because of
the efficacy it imparts to every worthy motive. There is at
present no valid reason for excluding the idea oi duty towards
God from an education that emphasizes the duties to self and
neighbor and country. There is no chapter in the history of
ecucation to prove that patriotism, philanthropy, and personal
virtue have been more successfully cultivated apart from the
influence of religion. On the contrary, an unprejudiced review
of the past, and a fair appreciation of its lessons, must lead to
the conviction that all the advantages expected from other
plans of moral instruction might have well been combined with
the advantages derived from the teaching of religious truth.
Not to separate the natural from the supernatural, and not to
reverse the order of their importance, but to secure, through
their co-operation, the highest educational efficiency is, on logi-
cal and historical grounds, the one adequate solution of the
problem.
Whether this solution will finally be adopted by those out-
side the Church, is just now an interesting question. We know
that earnest men are endeavoring to bring religion into closer
contact with secular education; and we may hope for some
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i9o6.] History of Education
practical results. The verdict of history is so
must necessarily serve as criterion and guide for
the better things. To accept it, and to act accoi
seem the simplest way of meeting, our difficulties.
Catholic teachers, on their part, will not fail
this new tendency in the light of history. Its rea
they will readily see; lies in the fact that it is tfa
experience. Had the conflict of ideals gone oi
the Church would have continued in her own \
of education. Should the present movement :
promises, it will add one more witness to the v
Catholic ideal. Should the end be simply specuh
acknowledgment of what ought to have been, Catb'^'*'* f-a/*K_
ers will understand that an ideal is one thing, its
another. In any event, this much will be admitted
have been wiser to maintain the unity of intelleci
and religious education than to separate the essentia
and then cast about for a plan of conciliation.
Quite probably, the discussion of this problem i
a more careful historical survey than has yet been
Thoroughgoing studies of the various systems of m<
tion may be expected, with the result that the attit
Church will be more fully appreciated. Should tb
be verified, every Catholic teacher and every fric
Catholic school will recognize the importance of t
which has here been outlined. Possibly, with the
will come a regret.
VOL. LXXXIII.— 2
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20 Open-Mindedness [April,
regard the connection between open-mindedness and irreligion
as essential; who say that the believer dare not expose his
soul to the influence of the evidence presented by the free-
thinker; who affirm that religious convictions are the result
of auto-hypnotism, and incompatible with pure-hearted devotion
to truth. Many earnest Christians confess to an insuperable
horror for the methods of the open court. They set no limit
to the dangers arising out of contact with unbelievers; they
deprecate impartial examination of difficulties; they see in
critical methods the entering wedge of atheism. If extremists,
they even goto the length of placing all their religious opinions
on practically the same level and of endeavoring to cover them
all with the same mantle of finality. To question a received
tradition, to cross-examine witnesses for the faith, to summon
a pious belief before the bar of history*— these are regarded as
the prolegomena to apostasy.
Now, it should not be said that this view is wholly unreason-
able, since, in iact, the believer cannot afford to be absolutely
indifferent. The methods of physics and mathematics are out
of place ill the establishment of religious convictions; un-
controlled criticism would very soon give the death-blow to
faith. In the constructing of the foundations of belief, our
admirations, our affections, our "will to believe," are of great
importance. We do not depend exclusively on analysis and
demonstration; we do not proportion each assent to the exact
logical force of the argument supporting it; we do not sur-
render a conviction every time we meet with an unanswered
objection. To motives too fine and subtile to be set in the frame
of a syllogism is given weighty consideration ; and, by using
the logic of the heart, we reach conclusions more recondite, but
no less valid, than those mathematically demonstrated from evi-
dent premisses* Moreover, authority outweighs numerous diffi-
culties, counterbalances many an argument, and decides for us
many a controversy. As the Catholic believes that there has
been established a divine power for the infallible communica-
tion of religious truth to all the world, and to every generation,
it is not to be expected that he will so far depart from the
reverence due it as to set aside its decisions for the sake of
contrary objections which ex hypothesi are not demonstrated.
Supposing that he has reasons to look upon a proposition as
divinely guaranteed, then not all the difficulties in the world
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1 906.] OPEN^MINDEDNESS 2 1
avail to make the suspension of his assent to it a requirement
of honesty.
All this, however, renders the problem harder rather than
easier. For there is a whole field of views and opinions
which, though confirmed by no divine guarantee, yet seem to
be harmonious with, and more or less clearly suggested by,
truths authoritatively defined. And with regard to these, what
course should the believer pursue? If he abides strictly by the
evidence, then he is accepting, to a certain extent, the canon of
the rationalists, and is going a little distance in their company.
If he holds to strictly traditional opinions, he will sometimes,
perhaps, have to incline toward absurdities.
To be guided always by reason, or always by authority,
would be a simple affair; but when neither reason alone, nor
authoricy alone, introduces us to the whole truth, the mind is
in a very perplexing situation. On either hand are the op-
posite extremes of rationalism and superstition. The one un-
duly exaggerates the function of reason — as if nothing but
reason were needed ; the other unduly exaggerates the function
of authority — as if nothing but authority were needed. The
partisans of each side are wresting an essentially true principle
to their own confusion; and if the rationalistic unbeliever de-
prives himself of a great treasure of instruction, it is no less
obvious that credulous and superstitious minds often array
themselves against the light and in opposition to the truth.
Now this the Catholic must learn: that authority has to
control and limit the activity of pure reason, not to dispense
men from the duty of thinking and deciding for themselves.
It ao more destroys the proper function of the private judg
ment than it destroys the function of the private conscience. Its
o^ce is to guide and assist both to a certain extent, and after-
wards to leave them to find the way and bear the burden them^
selves. Though reason alone is inadequate, this does not justify
us in setting it aside altogether; neither does the fact of our
faith's being built upon revelation imply that all our inferencts
and deductions are infallibly true,. nor that all our customs and
institutions are divinely established, nor that all our instructors
speak with the same finality. "Are all apostles? ^re all
prophets ? Are all doctors ? " Must we not rather observe a
certain discrimination and consult a certain sense of proportion ?
Within its own realm, where reason is ruler and judge, we must
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22 OPEN-MINDEDNESS [April,
pay all due respect to argument, we must listen heedfully to
the suggestions of common-sense. If, in obedience to a super-
stitious prejudice, we refuse to open our minds to the light, if
we fail to foster each little seed of evidence, we shall hardly
deserve to be looked upon as the good and faithful servants of
truth.
Infallibility is a very difficult element to introduce into one's
philosophy; and scarce anything is easier to abuse than the
divinely efficient but divinely delicate instrument of authority*
When called upon to employ authority in the enlightenment
of minds, or in the control of wills, one quickly discovers that
it is far from being an easily wielded club to beat personality
into submission. The self-restraint and penetrating insight re-
quired of those to whom the exercise of authority has been
entrusted are so great, indeed, that their position really de-
mands a degree of virtue little short of heroic — one reason why
men should bear with their shortcomings and make allowance
for their failures.
It follows, then, that we Catholics have to guard against
the defects of our qualities. The possession of certainty and
authority may easily tend to render us bigoted and despotic.
It may dispose us to minimize the rights of the individual
reason and the individual will, to confuse assumptions with
arguments and mistake tyranny for persuasion. There is both
a time to speak and a time to be silent, an hour for discussion
as well as an hour for attention. Docile Christians and obe-
dient Catholics still retain the natural human repugnance for
mental blindness and spiritual slavery. Though loyal and
reverent in the highest degree, they yet cherish freedom of
will and openness of mind. The love of the Gospel accords
perfectly with the love of liberty and the love of truth. These
points, then, are to be remembered : that the deposit of re-
velation does not yield up an answer to all the questions put
by restless ingenuity; that inerrancy cannot attach to all our
opinions; that authority will never attempt to do the work of
our personal intelligence; and that the analysis of a proof is
perfectly compatible with acceptance of the conclusion. There
are numerous problems which must always remain problems,
because not within the competency of authority to solve.
And when disagreement occurs in matters which authority does
not decide, then, whether the field of dispute be philosophy or
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I906.] Open-Mindedness 23
history or industry, ''both sides should show themselves will-
ing to meet, willing to consult, and anxious each to treat the
other reasonably and fairly, each to look at the other side of
the case and to do the other justice."
To draw the line of demarcation is not easy. We cannot
always predict beforehand just upon what authority will or will
not pronounce; as we cannot say beforehand just what can and
what cannot happen by the operation of the laws of nature.
But as we say of some things that they are possible, and of
others that they are impossible to natural human powers^ so,
too, we may say of some questions that they are within, and of
others that they are outside the province of infallible jurisdic-
tion; and of others again that they are of questionable char-
acter, that their relation to the teaching power is still unde-
termined. We must beware of lumping together all opinions
which go by the name of "Catholic"; of making all alike part
and parcel of the faith delivered to the saints ; of asserting
that religion bids us close our minds to further consideration
of such or such a question. Were we to make agreement in
every minor detail a test of orthodoxy and a badge of piety,
our policy would soon reveal the suicidal principle involved.
Some who have been brought up in the straitest traditions,
and who have been given to understand that every " Catholic ^
notion is unquestionable, finally arrive at the conclusion that
there is really no such thing as an infallible authority. It
would seem worth while to ask if the false impression of the
content of faith originally conveyed to these minds, may not
have contributed to the fatal result; if the over- pious instructor
of the child may not have to bear some responsibility for the
impious attitude of the man.
We are all disposed to be too exclusive and too final. It
is, therefore, instructive to note the difference in this respect
between the action of the Church and the action of the indi-
vidual Catholic. Curiously enough the same Church which
bears the imputation of being rigidly exclusive is also re-
proached with being fickle and crafty and diplomatic, because
ever ready to receive light from all quarters, and to adapt her
policy to changed conditions. The truth seems to be that she
partakes of both the constant and the variable elements. Firm
in her attachment to the past and its deposit of truth, she has
also, on occasions, shown herself to be capable of making
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24 OPEN'MINDEDNESS [April,
most generous concessions to the needs of the time. One does
not have to go back very far in her history, or to dive very
deep beneath the surface of events, in order to find instances
of this which would seem incredible to many a simple mind
engaged in defending as eternally immutable all the disciplin-
ary routine and all the speculative details to which it has been
accustomed. Seen even in outline, the history of the Church
furnishes evidence that she possesses a spirit quite unlike the
petty temper which is ever ready to dictate a fepecdy way of
dealing with troublesome objectors.
Men will grow in wisdom and in truth when they leain to
correct their narrowness by the pattern of the Church's di-
vinely large and divinely patient disposition. If one has a
too sharply defined conception of what can and what cannot
happen, then the study of Church history will help to cure
this precocious dogmatism. If one habitually entertains sus-
picions of all accounts which represent another Christian age
as very different from our own, then a reading of the old
records will give rise to new sentiments. And this shows us
why the historian is usually differentiated from other men
by his breadth of view. It is because his acquaintance with
the secrets of the past keeps him from entangling himself in
preoccupations about the future. The common man, more
sure of his ground, rushes in where scholars fear to tread»
He views new ideas with alarm; he is set against the possi*
bility of development and the expediency of change. Uncon-
sciously he has fostered so strong a prejudice against the like-
lihood of alterations of Catholic view or Catholic practice, in
the past or in the future, that he holds out against most re-
spectable evidence, and perhaps even ventures to condemn, in
the name of faith, such theories as seem to be ''disturbing."
That this is the tendency of the average believer can
scarcely be denied ; though it is indeed often controlled by. a
juster appreciation of things. Most of us uphold as necessary
and immutable many details which have no essential connec*
tion with revealed doctrine and to which the pronouncements
of authority really give no sort of guarantee. The present
issue is not whether our views are true or false, but whether
or not our attitude tends to bring discredit on the faith. The
questions to put to ourselves are these: Do we reject over
hastily such evidence as tells against us? Do we give a cold
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welcome to unpleasant discoveries? Do we refuse to lift our
anathemas until overwhelming proof shows that we have been
fulminating against a myth ? If we thus persecute the truth,
then, no matter what may be our motive, we shall have
to suffer the penalty of intellectual dishonesty. It is because
familiarity with ecclesiastical history helps to prevent this sin
that the study is so good a discipline. What it teaches us of
the Church reveals a personality, a temper, and a method
greater and more illuminative than those of any man or any
nation. Directly or indirectly, as the case may be ; by record-
ing the success or the defeat of human diplomacy; by telling
the triumph of the truth or the utter failure of mendacity;
church history gives us many a lasting lesson on the value of
open • minded ness.
One of the things we perceive as we read history is that
an inordinate attachment to details as essential parts of the
changeless faith is in great measure responsible for the schisms
which, from time to time, have rent the Church, and for the
lamentably slow progress of various movements for reunion in-
itiated outside the pale or within. For a moment such agita-
tions stir the Christian body; then, having encountered some
deep-rooted prejudice, they quiet down and die out. Too few
souls are ready to take the path pointed out by sage or saint
It would be an educative exercise for us, therefore, to go over
the long list of compromises recorded in history as effected or
as suggested, and to measure the comparative generosity of
our own spirit by the willingness we feel to sacrifice acci-
dentals. Perhaps many would experience an uncontrollable
tendency to stick at little things, even though the salvation
of multitudes were at stake. Few would manifest the qual-
ities which mark out the great statesman or the great mis-
sionary, as distinct from the crowd, by the nobility of his
spirit and the breadth of his views. And the difference would
come largely from the fact that, by stern necessity or by long
experience, the big-hearted men have been taught, as we have
not, to discriminate between what is vital and what is unim-
portant We are of the crowd; and most men, it would seem,
must first grow used to things before being able to appreciate
them justly. Doubtless Sts. Cyril and Methodius would never
have dreamed of so revolutionary a plan as a change in the
language of the Catholic liturgy had they always lived in the
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26 OPEN^MINDEDNESS [April,
one diocese, been inoculated with the provincial spirit, and
contemplated the needs of the Slavonians impersonally and
from afar. And when the Jesuit missionaries in China dressed
hemselves as mandarins, they gave proof of having broadened
out under a unique experience; for at home they would prob-
ably never have imagined so strange a method of procedure
to be a good and wise way for a Christian priest to go about
the evangelization of a heathen land.
Strangely rare is the mind which can hold a just balance
in comparing essentials and accidentals. Rare, too, is the fac-
ulty of examining proof objectively and of judging cases im-
personally. Having sttiall reason to believe that we are differ-
ent from the majority o! men, we should take account of this
fact, lest we reject truth by an unconscious bias toward cher«
ished theories and familiar notions. To give an instance: Sup-
pose we were to hear it brought forward as an argument
against the Immaculate Conception that Sis. Cyril and Basil
accused the Blessed Virgin of sinning by want of faith and
that St. Chrysostom charged her with pride. Would we not be
likely to deny the statement, simply because it told against a
Catholic thesis? Or suppose that, to support his criticism of
Catholic modes of worship, a Protestant were to state that
during the first five Christian centuries the use of the crucifix
was unknown ! Would we be perfectly fair and open-minded ?
Or would we not in this case, and in similar cases, deny the
allegations at once, as if loyalty called upon us to answer with
heat, and as if it were an irreligious thing to attend to the
evidence and to that alone ? Probably we should so act. But
it would be a mistake ; and in the long run, that kind of mis-
take has done much harm. There are so many masked errors
which profess to be connected with the faith; so many preju-
dices entrenched behind a show of piety ; and there is so
much pseudo-science claiming the protection of religion, that
imprudent zeal has often become a serious obstacle to the pro-
gress of truth. Unless wary of invoking the aid of religion in
the support of a personal or a partisan or a national interest,
we run the risk of opposing truth in the name of God.
Had the Christians of earlier times been as narrow as we,
they would in all probability have condemned any man found
predicting that the laity were one day to be deprived of the
use of the cup at Communion. They would have thought it
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I906.] OPEN-MINDEDNESS 27
impossible that baptism by immersion was to become the dis-
tinctive mark of a heretical sect, subjected for this practice to
the ridicule of many an orthodox Catholic. They would have
indignantly denied that the taking of interest would ever be
universally sanctioned and practised in the Church. Another
instance — the present organized form of canonization and of
ecclesiastical preferment is so different from the democratic
fashion of other days, that the average Catholic of either
time would in all probability be quick to deny that the method
to which he was unaccustomed ever did or ever could prevail.
Again, it is very probable that the attachment to existing cus-
toms is strong enough to make ordinary Catholics rather un-
easy when first told that infants used to be given Holy Com-
munion, and that the laity were once allowed to receive the
Sacred Host in thdr hands and to reserve it in their rooms at
home. There is, however, no real reason for uneasiness over
these or even much greater changes in ecclesiastical discip-
line.
The instances cited illustrate the general tendency of pre-
possession to lead minds away from the pursuit of truth. The
failure to appreciate things in true proportion is due to a
blind conservatism which holds the mind's eye tightly shut,
and insists on laying out, in accord with its own preconcep-
tions, a whole world of unknown and unexplained facts. A
delusion which seems to be a sort of illegitimate offspring of
faith bids men desperately defend every old position and ob-
stinately set face against every new idea. See its influence in
the current Scripture controversy, riecord of the infinite travail
with which truth is brought to the birth. See it in the de-
preciation of the methods of the new psychology. See it in
the slow progress toward recognition of the science of com-
parative religion. See it in the denial or concealment of most
instructive words and incidents dug up out of the rich soil of
patristic literature. See it in the stir caused by the publica-
tions of Lagrange on the Old Testament, Duchesne on na-
tional legends, Delehaye on the lives of the saints, Hemmer
on popular devotions. Or, finally, see it in the general reluc-
tance to concede such facts as Newman makes mention of in
the following passage: ''The use of temples, and these dedi-
cated to particular saints, and ornamented on occasion with
branches of trees; incense, lamps, and candles; votive offerings
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28 OPEN'MINDEDNESS [April,
on recovery from illness; holy water; asylums; holydays and
seasons, use of calendars, processions, blessings on the fields;
sacerdotal vestments, the tonsure, the ring in marriage, turning
to the East, images at a later date, perhaps, the ecclesiastical
chant, and the Kyrie Eleison, are all of pagan origin, and
sanctified by their adoption into the Church " (Essay on De-
velopmeni).
We should, indeed, be cautious about adopting novelties,
but we ought also to be cautious about condemning them. It
doe3 religion little good to be heard time after time on the
wrong side of debated questions; nor does it mend matters
very much to bestow a belated Imprimatur on ideas which
have won their way in spite of censure and interdict. Certain
affairs are whispered about in such mysterious wise that the
propaganda of them seems to be fraught with some dire and
dreadful consequence to religion ; whereas a calm analysis of
the situation would show that the triumph of the new views
could never amount to anything more than a lasting rebuke
and an unanswerable refutation to bigotry which masquerades
as the accompaniment and support of faith.
The plain inference is that we need to grow more open-
minded. In matters falling outside the domain of faith, and
to a certain extent in our conceptions of the teachings of faith,
we must be prepared for possible developments. We must al-
so be prepared to find that in a number of theological disputes
the advantage rests with the other side ; and that in some re-
spects our critics are occasionally justified. It is truly a pity
when the interests of charity are set beneath those of party;
and when victory in a controversy is sought more eagerly
than truth. The truth will, of course, prevail at last, no matter
how strenuously opposed; but perhaps the day of its triumph
will also be the day of our punishment. Strong words with
regard to our defects in these matters were written a while
ago by Father Cuthbert, the Capuchin : " The very freedom
of thought fosterec;! by Protestantism, which for so long was
the greatest danger to the Catholic faith, now bids fair to in-
foae new life into Catholic theology. . . . Original theologi-
cal thought is not abundant among us at the present time. We
have so accustomed ourselves to draw upon the labors of those
who have gone before us, that we haye in great measure ceased
to think for ourselves. We quote texts instead of exercising
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490$.] Open-Mindedness 29
our owfi minds. In a word, theology with us has become
stereotyped. . . . Catholic dogma is receiving outside the
Church such thorough and original treatment, as it has not ex«
perienced since the golden age of scholasticism. ... If the
Protestant world is becoming more Catholic in temper and
thought, it is owing more to their own religious thinkers than
to ourselves" {The Tablet^ April 6, 1901).
That is a good way to face unpleasant facts or humiliating
discoveries. We should not make up our minds beforehand
that a monopoly of truth and virtue has been established among
us. Once and for all let us be convinced that it is a poor tribute
to Christ to defend him with a lie; and that it must be a sad
reflection on the Church's power to purify the human soul, if
her children are not more than ordinarily devoted to the sacred
interests of truth. The Apostle who sank into the waves be-
cause his trust had failed, and the disciples who cowered timidly
under the onset of the storm, find many to imitate them in
their weakness, but few to follow their sublime example of con-^
fidence after having been endued with power from on high^
"Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?" is a reproach de-
served by every zealous controversialist who becomes too soli-
citous about the success of his defence to remain scrupulously
truthful in the presentation of his^ arguments. To triumph
quickly over the enemies of the Cross is sometimes our supreme
ambition. A harder and a holier ideal requires that we suffer
the assault of the powers of darkness, yet go on trusting never-^
tbeless. This is a more heroic test than the call to assent to
evident conclusions; it develops higher qualities than the foK
lowing of a captain who is ever visibly victorious. Loyalty
would be too easy a thing, were our courage not severely
tested; and its moral worth would inevitably be small. And,
in any events burying our heads in the sand is a poor way
to deliver ourselves from difficulties. Ultimately these must
be met and faced in all their strength, the only question being
whether we shall encounter them with suspicious or with open
minds. Let us, then, beware of the tendency to deny facts for
the reason that they upset our arguments, to ignore truth when-
ever its aspect is disagreeable.
At first it may seem like a very "conservative" process to
enter an ^/r^ri denial of all hostile criticism, and to cite an easily-
invoked authority in condemnation of every puzzling argument
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30 OPEN-MINDEDNESS [Aprils
But there is danger that such policy will prove to be anything
but conservative in the long run; that the day will dawn when
those who now sit docile under our teaching will remember of
it only our hasty condemnations. It is an awful thing recklessly
to inform a man that there is necessary opposition between hi&
opinion and the faith of the Church. In fact, it is an awful
thing to make any rash statement about the content of the
Church's teaching. Some one pays the price of this rashness,
sooner or later. At the hour when a student opens the Grammar
of Assent and laughs at himself for ever having believed the
details of the scholastic philosophy to be akin to revelation, he
is apt to experience a permanent weakening of his confidence
in the magisterium. If he has been taught to repudiate as in-
credible the cavils of his Protestant playfellows against the least
virtuous occupants of the Chair of Peter, he will suffer when
he finds out such things as are faithfully set down by Pastor
and by Barry. If staggered by an atheist's revelation of facts
that might have been found in the pages of the BoUandists^
he will perhaps offer to surrender cherished parts of his religi-
ous heritage. And if there ever comes a crucial moment, when
it seems as if he has been all his life accepting myths and fables^
and when he remembers with bitterness that the name of religion
has often been invoked to sanction the inculcation of absurdi-
ties, then his world will perhaps go upside down. Nor are the
suppositions just made altogether imaginary. There are thou-
sands upon thousands 6f earnest men and women whose hearts
have been sickened and whose consciences have been troubled
by irresponsible definitions of " what all Catholics must believe.'*'
Some souls never recover from shocks which in the begin-
ning were perfectly gratuitous, and in the event are seen to
have been "all a mistake." Censure these souls as weak, if you'
will ; but acknowledge that the responsibility is not theirs alone.
If children grow up with crippled faith and weakened trust,,
their instructors are probably to blame for it in part. If there
should come upon us the epidemic of religious decay, which
less hopeful men are now predicting, then the fault of causing it
must lie largely at the door of all such as force the acceptance
of views which possess only the guarantee of prejudice or, at most^
of probability. If we have kept the facts concealed as long as
possible, how can we wonder that the pupil is now suspicious
of us; that he imagines we are still attempting to deceive him.
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1 906.] OPEN'MINDEDNESS 3 1
''for his own good " ? Nemo me impune lacessit^ is the perennia)
challenge of truth. To those who maltreat her is dealt out
retribution, slow, perhaps, but certain — in this instance the de-
moralization of souls upon whom the hopes of the future are
built.
So open-mindedness is not only right; it is expedient too.
To rely upon the truth is safer than to build upon a lie. SaU
vation comes from the facing of facts rather than from the en-
deavor to ignore or to refute them.
Dare to be true; nothing can need a lie,
wrote Herbert; and ages before him another had written:
Non eget Deus mendacio nostro.
Theoretically we see, and in the abstract we approve, these
principles. It is not plain, however, that in actual conduct many
of us are willing to take the risk of living up to them.
We have all heard much of '' the will to believe " ; possibly we
have begun to understand that in matters of religion it is in-
dispensable. But we must not, therefore, forget the value of
"the will to be true." The pia creduliias of the disciple is
certainly one of the dearest possessions of his soul; yet it
should not be suffered utterly to exhaust his mental activity
or entirely to supplant his devotion to the pursuit of facts*
Briefly, together with the wish to believe, he must also cherish
the fortis afiectus veritatis^ which might perhaps be freely
translated as ''an open mind."
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A DETERMINED CELIBATE.
BY JEANIE DRAKE.
E Needlework Guild of Grace Church, in Hills-
borough, was in a state of effervescent expec-
tation, which showed itself in chaos of conver-
sational din. Upon this wordy tumult fell a
miraculous peace, as oil upon tempestuous waves,
and the voice of the warden was announcing fornially : *' Ladies,
the Reverend Mr. Marchpane, our new pastor, who will pre-
side."
" Most happy, I'm sure," said the Reverend Ethelbert, who
had a mellow voice and an English accent, ''to meet the ten-
der lambs of my ffock." His gaze encountered dignified aloof-
ness through large spectacles from a lady who might easily
have been his grandmother, and he reddened.
Yet he could not have heard Elizabeth Western, her great-
niece, murmur dispassionately: ''It does seem more of a pity
for a clergyman to make himself ridiculous than for another
man to do the same thing. But I don't know why. They're
all human."
"Elizabeth!"
"Well, they are. So are we, for that matter, whose rare
appearance at the Guild this afternoon to gossip and listen to
anaemic ' Poems of the Spiritual Life,' is through curiosity, isn't
it, aunt?"
" I induced you to come, Elizabeth," said Mrs. Mackenzie,
reprovingly, " as a decent attention to your new minister.
Just as, for your sake, I frequent a church whose ways annoy
me considerably at times."
"Bless your dear old Scotch traditions!" said Elizabeth
soothingly. " Isn't it more sociable to go where most of
one's acquaintances do ? And in Hillsborough, with only two
churches, it's this or immersion. Now, how would your rheu-
matic tendency agree with a mountain stream in midwinter?
Maybe — " with hopefulness — " this breezy little Englishman, in
spite of that black kimono, preaches shorter sermons than Dr.
Prigmore."
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I906.] A DETERMINED CELIBATE 33
Her auat frowned rcpressively, while the subject of their
remarks was being inducted into the most comfortable chair,
persuaded to taste — with conspicuous moderation — of virtuously
weak and over-sweetened claret cup, and to accept more freely
welcoming incense from such of the tender lambs as could
group about him. Mrs. Mackenzie, devoting herself to the con-
struction of a poor child's petticoat, and her niece, perfunctorily
assisting with the same, were not among these.
" His introducer seems to have fled," whispered the yoling
lady. '' The atmosphere was too oppressively feminine for any
but a clergyman."
The converse of her conclusion was proved by the ease of
manner, almost reckless, of the Reverend Ethelbert. '' Having
' mellered the organ/ like Silas Wegg," he began, '^ I will now,
with him, ' drop into poetry in a friendly way.' " Craving an
appreciative twinkle, his blue and bright and very responsive
eyes fell upon Scylla and Charybdis in the glitter of Aunt
Mathilda's hostile spectacles and the cool neutrality of Eliza-
beth's clear, gray orbs.
Hastily he betook himself to his work, while Elizabeth re*
lented to the extent of thinking: ''That isn't so bad — for a
stony Briton. Perhaps his grandmother was an Irishwoman."
Then she straightway forgot him and his intoning of innu-
merable vacuous stanzas, in picturing to herself, regretfully,
the glory of the autumn woods on this afternoon wasted in-^
doors.
She was recalled to present surroundings by a sudden hi-
atus, and the voice of the reader remarking cheerily: ''The
piety of this author is beyond question, ladies, but you must
find him a bit soporific. Let me see — " He felt in various
pockets of the "kimono" and extracted the Dolly Dialogues^
which he proceeded to recite with much humor and a touch
of sentiment.
Which of these two was more displeasing to Mrs. Mackenzie,
it would have been hard to decide. The shocked surprise, the
majestic disapproval, the speechless condemnation which chased
each other over her expressive features reduced her niece to
joining in the ripples of laughter about her, in a mirth which
had nothing to do with Mr. Hope's quips and cranks.
Fortunately, Mr. Marchpane's available time was limited.
VOL, LXXXIII.~3
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34 A DETERMINED CELIBATE [April,
" Pardon me — " he drew out his watch, with various clerical
emblems attached, admiringly regarded by fascinated juniors*— ^
" I have a sick-call to make. Mr. Choral tells me that, before
I go, you wish to consult me on some mode of raising money
for the church debt."
It was instantaneously apparent that the room contained
two camps strongly opposed. He made out finally, through
hubbub of argument and ob|ection, that those desired a lecture
as a dignified method of rai$^ing funds, and these a bazaar with
dancing as a more enlivening one. Quickly and gaily was the
matter arranged.
"Why, let's have both," he decided. "For the lecture-
well, ril read myself, if you'll let me — it'll be cheaper — the
rest of the Dialogues^ perhaps, or something amusing. Then*
the proceeds'U pay for the band and other bazaar expenses,
and we'll have a ripping time and make lots of money."
The senior camp responded with marked reserve ; the younger
with enthusiastic adhesion. "Now," he resumed, "there's a
little matter more personal I want to mention. I heard a
good old darkey exhorter state the other day that the women
of his congregation were noble and self-sacrificing heroes, as
they had suffered much for the faith — and made fifty- six patch-
work qpilts! In stitching of garments for the needy I am
sure you have excelled these; therefore, let me suggest that
you take a temporary vacation from petticoat and pinafore
making; since the poor you have always with you, and me
you will not have long if somebody does not look after my —
ahem, my vestments. The few I find here are quite worn and
plain and certainly not — not modern. I will explain what I
require later." And with hasty farewell he was gone almost be-
fore any but Elizabeth had noticed how small he was and boy-
ish looking, and that his flapping coat-tails reached nearly to
his heels.
Her chin went disdainfully high, while the girls present
dropped their sewing and raised their voices in honor of this
bachelor acquisition. " Quite a change from good old, dear
old, prosaic Dr. Prigmore," they pronounced. " Did you no-
tice his eyes — and that delightful accent? And faith, hope,
and charity and all the little crosses on his chain ? Didn't
the candles and flowers look lovely on Sunday ? And, what
do you think he wants us to make for him ? " And more and
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I906.] A DETERMINED CELIBATE 35
mare of this, until Miss Western lapsed again into amusement
at her aunt's face.
'' I could have overlooked bis innovations on Sunday," said
that lady as they drove homeward, " but now it's vestments !
After that, some other Ritualistic frill, I suppose. And calls
himself Protestant ! "
'' Not oftener than he can help. But it's the blobd of the
Covenanters that's boiling in your veins, auntie. You have
now the prospect of enjoying a little Anglican persecution,
with its sustaining hope of grim reprisals later."
'^ For the matter of that," returned Mrs. Mackenzie calmly,
"you're more likely to enjoy such persecution than an old
woman, for I saw him, very well, making eyes."
'' Unberufen I And heaven forefend ! And Abracadabra I
And all such like shielding spells!" replied her niece, tem-
perately amused.
That Mr. Marchpane was not of those who let grass grow
under their feet was evidenced by a round of visits which he
soon made with, upon his short but resolute right arm, a large
basket containing patterns.
" Most unseemly," pronounced Mrs. Mackenzie, and pre-?
tended to think he called one of these a " Cossack," and an-
other an '* elbow."
'' I haven't time, I assure you, Mr. Marchpane," she told
him, inflexibly. ''A dirty little ragged girl is waiting for this
petticoat right now."
" Who appeals to you more than I * do — I see," he said,
with unabated good temper. " Well, then. Miss Western, sure-
ly — she looks efficient" He did not add that she also looked
charming, but she knew he thought so.
" My looks belie me," she replied discouragingly. " If I
attempted a — oh, yes — a chasuble, you would regret it. But
here comes an evidently predestined victim of revolution in
Mi^s Granby. Laura, my dear, you have always yearned to
embroider a chasuble — or would have done so if you had
known what it was. Now, do not deny it, for this is the
chance of your life."
Miss Granby, an heiress, blonde and effusive, gave gratified
consent to whatever Mr. Marchpane might desire. This en-
tailed a duo of interrogation, explanation, demonstration, dur-
ing which Mrs. Mackenzie left the room, and Miss Western's
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36 A Determined Celibate [April,
nimble fancy pleased itself with an arrangement which shbiild
be mutually advantageous to an admiring heiress and an ad-
mired pastor, whose salary was small sometimes to the vanish-
ing point/ That* the corner-stone of this castle of altruism
might be laid at once, she affected an interest in the matter in
band.
^' My dear Laura, how can you really understand unless you
fry the pattern on Mr. Marchpane ! Over his head, so— take
care — that's right. Now kneel down and pin the hem."
"How very good you are, Miss Western," gravely com-
mented the Reverend Ethelbert, in paper panoply, with Miss
Granby at his feet.
"Yes, I aiw good."
" I suspected it from the beginning."
" You are a judge of human nature. I intend to cheer
Laura on; she will pay for the materials and make and em-
broider this robe; you will wear it. It is what is called the
division of labor. And here comes aunti^ with a cup of solace
ior us all."
This being really Mrs. Mackenzie's hospitable intention, she
wore nevertheless, viewing the tableau, a face to which Medusa's
was girlishly radiant. That same afternoon, driving with her
niece past a field bordering the town, she started, settled her
glasses more firmly, and said solemnly : '^ Is that, or is it not,
Mr. Marchpane, without coat or vest? And what is he do-
ing?"
"'Tis he himself," said Elizabeth lightly. "He appears to
be acting as pitcher for the Sunday-School baseball club. He
is doing it pretty well, but would probably play cricket bet-
ter."
Aunt Mathilda waved these trivialities aside. " Isn't that a
red and white striped shirt?"
" Yea, a n^glig^."
" ' N^glig^.' indeed ! " witheringly. " And with that— that
black — chest protector topping it — and a red cap, and sleeves
rolled up ! I ask you how he seems ? "
" He seems warm. You look, in comparison, as cool and
tart as a lemon ice."
" I shall have a talk with the bishop about that young
man."
"Oh, I wouldn't. He would make him repeat the thirty-
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I906.] A DETERMINED CELIBATE 37
nine articles backvtrard, or something of the sort. Besides— '^
niysteriously— " you might break up a promising romance.*'
"Elizabeth," said her aunt severely, "no tricks, if you
please, or you will be doing some woman an ill service."
It was disappointing that at the bazaar that week Miss
Granby wore by no means the complacence natura) to an em-
broiderer-in-chief. Nor were the lesser aides as intense about
ecclesiastic needlework as they had been.
^'Silfcs don't match — or bullion given, out, Laura?" ftliss
Western asked, unsympathetically.
"Oh, they're all right. You don't go to early Lenten ser-
vice, Elizabeth, do you ? No ; Bess an4. I are the only ones
there. That yellow and white thing Mr. Marchpane had pn^|bi^
morning was perfectly fascinating. Did-rdid you hear tjb^ he
is .a celibate?" . !, bva
"A celibate? What's that?" - ^^ 1
"Oh, you know. A sort of obstinate bachelor., ;He^^ol4^ViS^
at class-meeting that he didn't judge for oth^r men, iii tfiosQ
matters; but that his— his priestly duties claimed ^^j life." ',
Miss Western was now sitting up and taking notice. " He
told you that, did he ? How considerate of him to warn ypu
all off! Yet he is certainly and distinctly flirtatjpuSi"
"Elizabeth!" horrified.
" He is, I tell you. I know the signs from long — obsciva-
tion." She took the other girl's arm and wended her way
towards the minister. "This music is tempting— y^t you are
not dancing, Mr. Marchpane ? "
" Why, I'd be very glad," eagerly ; " but, ypu s?c, I waltz
so badly. If you'd get up a Sir Roger de Coverly, npw, and
honor me; — "
Their heads were about on a level and she gave hin^ on^
of her cool, repressive glances: "Oh, as for me, I am playing
Cinderella and hastening home before the stroke pf twelve."
She looked so enchantingly fair, in a pale green gown glisten-
ing with crystal dewdrops, that the words escaped his lips :
" If you are Cinderella, I beg the part of Prince ! "
"You might," reflectively, "enjoy dressing the part— blue
velvet and silver, you know, with large, white-plumed hat; but,
otherwise, it would never do. The Prince was not a celibate,
I believe."
She smiled a little, as going out she passed him and Miss
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38 A DETERMINED CELIBATE [April,
Granby leading a Sir Roger, hastily organized at a word or
two -from her. And he bowed so low as to suggest piqtie.
Miching mallecho certainly dictated also the note he soon after
received requesting escort for herself and Miss Granby on a
horse-back excursion.
Upon- being informed of this engagement, Mfs. Mackenzie
remarked irrelevantly: ''That was a nice performance of his —
dancing at the bazaar ! Are you aware that the young men
call your minister ' Bertie ' ? "
" To his face ? "
"No; behind his back."
'' He can't help that. I'm taking him now because Laura
looks lovely in her habit."
Mrs. Mackenzie sniffed slightly, but she could not have de-
nied that Miss Granby's graceful figure, already mounted, did
more or less embellish their lawn when the Reverend Ethelbert
rode up. His immediate start of consternation must, therefore,
have been at Miss Western's appearance. Though Mr. March-
pane's prejudices were few, they were of British rigidity; and
she, having practised much in Colorado, had elected to ride
astride, which she did easily and well. With a sweet, uncon-
scious look from under the becoming sombrero, she put her
horse in swift motion at once. Mr.' Marchpane knew that he ,
had been criticized in conservative Hillsborough for advanced
methods, but this was altogether too advanced for him. Swept
along in her wake, his coat-tails ffying, and detecting a smile
here and there among the passers, he groaned : '' Needs must
— " unaware that he spoke aloud.
" What insular ungallantry I " cried Elizabeth delighted.
" That is equal to calling me — with Mr. Kipling's officers- — ' in-
fernally adequate.'"
*' Heavenly competent, rather," amended Ethelbert, recover-
ing somewhat. But he took the first opportunity of turning
into a side street, and thence to country lanes. And he de-
voted himself ostentatiously to Miss Granby, who received his
attentions with gratification tempered by misgiving.
Elizabeth, her purpose achieved and her horse the fleetest,
sped away in single-hearted enjoyment of the ride. "Miss
Western," called Ethelbert, "will you kindly not ride too far
out of sight on this lonely road. It would hardly be possible
to help you in case of accident,"
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i9o6,] A Determined Celibate 39
'*Why/' exclaimed Laura, "Elizabeth lidea mHes and miles
in every direction alone."
'' What can .Mrs. Mackenzie be dreaming of ? " he asked
sternly, Elizabeth being again within ear shot.
''What could she do about it/* proposed that young lady,
''the archaic method of locking up on bread and water having
passed away with the Children of the Abbey — in America, at
least?"
With sudden, quiet dignity, which was becoming, he said:
" I should think young women — even in America — might some-
times like to please those to whom they are dear," and turned
again to Miss Granby.
They saw no more of Elizabeth until, the main street re-
gained, with rapid pounding of pursuing hoofs, she pulled up
sharply on one side of Mr. Marchpane.
' "You're not ashamed of me, I hope," she said, in innocent
effect of pathos. '' If I ride behind, they'll take me for some
sort of Mameluke guard." He bit his lip, while the passers
smiled again at his far from triumphal re-entry with his fair
troopers.
From the date of that ride the Mackenzie household saw
but little of their pastor, his calls being of the briefest and
most perfunctory. Elizabeth, indeed, could have forgotten him,
her thoughts being much occupied by a tempestuous corre-
spondence whose author clamored for a promise she felt no
imperative prompting to give. Then she went on a long visit
to a gay pleasure resort, and came back as clear of eye and
skin and poised o^ manner as ever«
"What have you been doing to the Reverend Bertie ? " she
asked her aunt. " He looks wretched and tried to escape your
niece on the street"
" Oh," said Mrs. Mackenzie irritably, " no one can deny
that he's a worker, and he's overdoing it. Two of the mills
have shut down, and there's been any amount of poverty and
distress and suffering among the hands. He gives away pretty
much all he has, and is at everybody's beck and call. I told
him last time I met him that if he'd quit starving himself, and
give up his new-fangled notions in millinery, he'd be a very
decent sort of minister."
" You did ? "
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40 A Determined Celibate [April,
'' Yes ; and he just laughed and said : ' Mrs. Mackenzie,
you're a delightful woman!'"
Miss Granby's confidences were of a plaintive sort. " He
told me again, Elizabeth, that he never expected to marry. If
he keeps on this way, he'll work himself into a decline, and —
and die ! ^
''Then he'll have a halo; and it couldn't be more unbe-
coming than that amazing hat," said Elizabeth lightly. But
utilizing her own and Mrs. Mackenzie's comfortable competence,
she began at once such sympathetic visitations and helpful ar-
rangements and charitable work generally as would have light-
ened much of Mr. Marchpane's burden, only there now broke
out, among the wretchedly under- fed and under-clad, disease
of serious type.
"Are you aware," he asked sharply, meeting her with her
packages in the doorway of a certain shanty, "that the sick-
ness here is communicable ? "
"We do not receive our friends at present," said Elizabeth
with coldness. Then, stung into retort : " We cannot all be
clerics, yet are not necessarily of stone."
He made no answer, and thereafter they crossed each other
in such scenes ever and again without further protest.- Then
disease, became epidemic, and decimated and almost swept the
squalid quarters of the poor, and threatened the fashionable
streets whose dwellers fled incontinently. Miss Granby being of
the number. But she left her check-book and, while using it;
Elizabeth had opportunity to know that, in charity's cause^
the pastor gave even more freely of himself.
" Your sleeve is torn," she said to him once, " let me mend
it. I am not good at — chasubles," with her rallying smile,,
"but I fancy I can patch."
His quick blush brought back some English bloom to the
thin cheeks. " I — I haven't time just now to get my other coat. "^
"His other coat — " she mused, and found out, indeed,
elsewhere, that it had served in which to bury one who was^
without.
Then from a neighboring city there came as volunteers the
Catholic priest and the Presbyterian minister, bringing zealous
assistants, and they all worked together valiantly. The par-
sonage had been turned into a hospital, in which the Rever*
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I906.] A DETERMINED CELIBATE 4 1
end Ethelbert reserved for himself but a tiny dressing-room,
where, as things mended, he snatched a few moments for food
and rest. Miss Western also had time now anxiously to note
that the unusual strain had told upon her aunt.
" No," said Mrs. Mackenzie, in answer to argument, " I
will stay at home to-morrow, but to-night I go with you,
Elizabeth, to the parsonage to help with those children. I
could not sleep for thinking of them."
Thus, somewhere in the midnight watches, Elizabeth knocked
wildly at the pastor's door. " Oh, come, come !" cried to him
the voice of voices, and there followed a leap to the floor and
the shuffling of slippers. Without delajr he confronted her.
" Yes, Elizabeth ! " He named her as dways in his dreams
he did. Together they bent over the unconscious Mrs^ Mac-
kenzie, lifted her to a couch, and applied restorati)^ with re-
cently acquired skill. "Only a faint," he whispered, reassur-
ingly, as animation returned. /
" I feared — everythingf," murmured the girl, with pale lips.
^'Capital nurses, both," pronounced the unavoidably belated
doctor. "At her age," he added privately to Mr. Marchpane,
''promptness was vitally important.'*
Some days later, as Aunt Mathilda sat comfortably in her
own armchair, Elizabeth bent to hide a sudden curve of the
lips: "Did you notice, the other night, auntie, the elegance
of Mr. Marchpane's pink pajamas ?"
" I noticed nothing," Aunt Mathilda answered curtly, " but
that he tended me like — like lua angel."
" I wonder now— do the angels wear pink pajamas ? " And
only the minister's appearance in the avenue below prevented
her aunt's dealing with this.
Ethelbert, pacing the library on her entrance, would have
no more, this time, of Elizabeth's debonnaire fencing " I had
thought never to marry — that was my plan," he confessed.
" So I have heard," she said demurely.
"But," he persisted with steadiness, "I know now that I
have loved you from the first glance of your eyes; and, since
we have worked side by side, I need you more than anything
in life."
"It is Laura Granby you should marry — if she would have
you," she exclaimed in mock consternation. "Think what you
could do for the poor with her money ! "
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42 A Determined Celibate [April,
"There are none poorer than I— lacking you."
'' And you * a professed celibate ! No, then ; that was un-
generous. But—" the table still between them — "you know
that Aunt Mathilda — superficially — disapproves of your — super-
ficial—self ?"
"I have fancied sometimes-^" with his boyish smile — "that
I was persona non grata to Mrs. Mackenzie. But I may win
her over. I have more than — ^superficial — reverence for age."
" Ethclbert— " he had circled the table— '^ you are really a
good fellow."
"And you — better and best!"
" I suppose," said Mrs. Mackenzie to the Presbyterian min-
ister, "that, under the circumstances, I must keep on counte-
nancing his church, candles and all."
" Oh, I think I should, " he agreed, tolerantly, " I suppose
he may be classed as evangelical, for all his fads. To marry
your niece, I hear? I've had three wives myself."
Aunt Methilda sat up very straight with all of her former
spirit. . "Well," she said with much emphasis, " I earnestly hope
that he will not >* but that one may be enough for him, and
that she may survive him ! "
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LIFE AND MONEY.
IV.
BY WILLIAM J. KERBY. Ph.D.
and saving may be studied as great
ocesses, closely related to the progress
f^ inasmuch as they concern the devel-
>f all trade, awaken the habit of fore*
d foster demand for the varied pro-
ducts of industry. Accumulation of capital and consumption of
wealth are the two conditions requisite for economic progress.
Too much saving, too much spending, may entail s^erious social
disturbances. The problem of finding a balance between the
two is given over to economics and ethics for solution.
Again we may study the personal types produced by hab-
its of spending and of saving. We then seek to know kinds
of character, mental and social traits, points of view, valuations
to be found among those who abandon themselves^ with more
or less of reserve, to the practice of spending or of saving.
While few will combine in themselves all of these traits, the
knowledge of the characteristics which the habits develop is of
great value.
Finally, we may attempt to classify a population in refer-
ence to the habits of spending and of saving. Social classes
appear to possess these traits in varying degrees. Since spend-
ing and saving are closely related to morals, to individual hap-
piness, to social security, to religion, to life in many phases,
it will be of service to understand the influence that a given
class will exert upon its members. The problem is by far too
subtle and complex to permit exhaustive treatment within a
few pages. Hence, only a brief outline is here attempted.
If spending is living, or to invert the phrase into a form
that is more accurate, if living is spending, and saving is a dis-
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44 LIFE AND MONEY [April,
cipline of life, peoples and individuals will spend naturally,
while saving will be reluctantly undertaken after experience,
education, or necessity shall have forced one to commence it.
A population in a genial climate, with unlimited food sup-
ply, and little irregularity in the seasons, will develop but lit-
tle foresight, no habits of saving, prevision, or enterprise. If,
however, there are alternating seasons of production and bar-
renness, the inhabitants will necessarily store supplies, during
the productive season, in quantities needed to tide them over
from season to season. This is a beginning of foresight or
discipline. If crops occasionally fail, if fruit, game, or fish
at times is lacking, greater foresight is necessary. Expeditions
may be planned, storing in great quantities will be attempted,
or even enforced frugality. Methods of drying, preservir^,
hiding supplies will be perfected through the influence of sys-
tematic consideration of the future. Robinson Crusoe gives us
valuable illustration of the whole process.
To day in our world and civilization, i^hose complex or-
ganization defies analysis, and whose varied relations are be-
yond comprehension, we have wonderful methods, and wonder-
ful results in the production and distribution of necessaries of
life. The world is now so completely one, and communication
and transportation are so prompt and sure, that our security
is complete. And yet legal and social factors hinder the dis-
tribution of necessaries to many in our great cities as effec-
tively as mountains and rivers might
But it is not so much this point of view that is now per-
tinent. Granting the social importance of prevision, one may
ask : Who are the spenders, and who the savers ? If the indi-
vidual is responsible to his own future, he should save in
obedience to that responsibility, unless he have other guarantee
that his future needs will be secure. Spending and saying
among individuals reveals their own views of life and of fu-
ture, and give us the key to an understanding of their activity.
We sometimes speak of whole peoples as spenders or ^vers.
It is said that the Italians, the Chinese, are savers; that the
Jeiit. invariably lives within his income; that he saves, whether
he be poor or rich ; but spends much when he has in abun-
dance; little, when he is poor. It is said, on the other hand,
that Americans are lavish spenders. Munsterburg claims that
the American buys the best and dearest that his purse can
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I906.] LIFE AND MONEY 45
stand, yet William D. Howells gives Americans credit for sav-
ing more than our Cnglish brothers.*
Saving is, among some, a matter of temperament. If race
traits survive in the individual when he has no particular use
for them, we find, reflected in the temperamental saver, a time
in the history of the race when saving had a definite purpose.
In general, however, one is apt to find the habit of saving
among those whose interest or aims are fixed on the future.
We might say, then, theoretically that men with definite ambi-
tion; fathers with keen sense of responsibility to their families;
the educated whose enlightened judgment and wideped vision
enable them to appreciate the risks of life ; business men whose
large plans demand increased capital, are savers. Yet, in fact,
there may be and there are counter influences which make
spenders of them. The ambitious man may find that spending
furthers his plans; the father may spend in obedience to affec-
tion or to desire for prestige, and depend on life insurance to
clire for his family.
One might be led to believe that where income is fixed,
regular and certain, one would And spenders, and that where
income is irregular, uncertain, one would And savers. Thus
the farmer is a saver and the city man on salary is a spender.
The farmer is subjected to the variations of the seasons; he
plants and sows, labors much and awaits the harvest in pa-
tient simplicity. His crops may fail, his interest may fall due.
He is, therefore, farsighted, shrewd, saving. His income is
uncertain, and he knows the doubts the future awakens. Fall
plowing is for spring planting, and planting is for autumn
harvest. His circle of life is small, his labors exacting, his
tastes simple. Passion for distinction disturbs him little, unless
it be to take a prize at his county fair or to have the best horse
*In his recent North American Review article, on " English Idiosyncrasies," he says, for
instance: "The English live much nearer their incomes than the Americans do. I think
that we save more out of our earnings than they out of theirs, and that in this we are more
like the continental peoples, the French or the Italians. They spend vastly more on state than
we do, because, for one thing, they have more state to spend on. A man may continue to
make money in America and not change his manner of living till he chooses, and be may never
diange it^ Such a thlbg could not happen to an English woman as happened to an elderly
American housewife who walked through the magnificent house which her husband had
bought to surprise her, and sighed out at last : ' Well, now I suppose I shall have to keep a
girl ! • The girl would have been kept from the beginning of her husband's prosperity, and
multiplied till the house was full of servants. If you have the means of a gentleman in Eng-
land, you must live like a gentleman apparently ; you cannot live plainly and put by ; and
largely you must trust to your life insurance as the fortune you will leave to your heirs."
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46 Life and Money [April,
in the neighborhood. In the city, on the contrary, salary is
continuous, independently of weather and crops. It suggests
no uncertainty, no risk, and one lives constantly in the hope
that it will be increased. The salaried cashier lives where
social rivalry is keen, social standards are insistent and expen-
sive ; the example of spending is universal, and incentive to it
unceasingly strong. Opportunity and occasion to spend sur-
round one constantly; credit is easy when money is lacking.
Thus we find, in a general way, that the salaried man in the
city is a spender. The small business man, not on salary, but
conducting business independently, exposed, as he is, to risk,
absorbed largely, if not entirely, in his business, his mind set
on accumulating, eagerly looking forward to leisure secured by
his foresight, is apt to be a consistent saver. Newman observes
somewhere that difficulty in accumulating wealth tends to de-
velop the traits of the saver. This may be more true of small
accumulations than it is of great wealth.
The small town probably shows a rather large proportion
of thrifty persons, since one finds in such centres few artificial
wants, little social rivalry, plain taste, self-employment with
small capital, little incentive to or opportunity of great ex-
penditures.
Within the typical modern city we find wage earners and
those on salary in the majority. We notice in these great
numbers every degree of income, from starvation wages to
princely salary, with a relatively small number of social stand-
ards according to which to live. Persons of widely varying
salaries will drift into certain classes, named from the standard
of life to which they hold. As before remarked, the best situ-
ated in the class fix the scale of living high, and others within
the group attempt to conform. Everything in city life com-
bines to develop the habit of spending. The labor unions,
which express so strongly the views of life held by represent-
ative laborers throughout the country, find themselves in sym-
pathy with a Spending rather than with a saving philosophy.
As a rule, wages are notably lower than the current tradi-
tional wants of the class would demand. An increase in wages,
always slight necessarily, suggests, not opportunity for saving,
but the satisfaction of some long cherished desire. Then, too,
the labor movement agitates for higher wages in order to have
*' increased power of consumption," and resists reduction be-
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I906.] LIFE AND MONEY 47
cause it decreases the power of consumption, and thereby
threatens shrinkage in business, and industrial crises.
One finds in every class referred to many exceptions due
to the thousand factors that play in every life. On the whole,
the drift of society is toward spending, short-sighted enjoy-
ment of to-day, and reluctant attention to to-morrow. The
development of cities, intense social rivalry, increasing love of
pleasure and indulgence; the proximity in daily life of people
of all grades of income ; the feeling of equality as an author-
ization to look up and not an obligation to look down; in-
creasing self-appreciation ; the display of modern industry and
the seductive methods by which it overcomes us; the passion
for distinction, rivalry, as they manifest themselves about us in
a thousand forms; the general spirit of worldliness everywhere
asserted, everywhere sanctioned, everywhere exalted — are all
sources of .tremendous expansive pressure on our wants. In-
come is fixed for men, generally, by an economic process en-
tirely unrelated to the preferences, wants, tastes of the indi-
vidual. And it is always insufficient to meet demands which
are actively insistent. Credit devices and debt enable many
to attain to more than their actual cash resources allow. The
margin betv^een income and enjoyment, bridged as it is by
credit, contains unrecorded tragedies and heart longings that
would discount all literature, could they be written.
The situation, thus viewed, presents to observation these
facts: wants generally in excess of income, love of pleasure,
dislike and absence of discipline of wants, dissatisfaction with
income. Does this condition tend to foster the spirit of So-
cialism? The question is not so much one of doctrine as of
spirit and temperament. Does the condition referred to create
a mental attitude which favors Socialism, making the mind re-
ceptive to its teachings ? Munsterburg finds no envy among
Americans, and in this he sees a most effective obstacle to
Socialism. It is, however, not so certain that we are entirely
free from envy. Socialists may employ, with good effect, the
contrast between starving children of the poor and overfed
poodle dogs of the rich.* Luxury, vice, crime, as actually or
•The New York TVt^n/ (February i6, 1906), recently quoted an intelligent visitor to the
dog show, as having said at a meeting of philanthropists who are interested in the sick children
of the poor : " I haven't a word to say against this outpouring of interest in dogs, but when I
found one having its toilet made with a brush and comb, and another, a Chinese dog, resting
against abackgroimd of Chinese tapestry, the happy creature feeding out of a blue willow
pattern dish, I did wonder if a fraction of the money might not have been better devoted to
he care of little children.**
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48 LIFE AND MONEY [April,
apparently identified with great wealth, are of grtat service to
the socialistic press. But, aside from such aspects of conditions,
it is now asked whether the characteristic mental traits, de^-
veloped among spenders, are favorable or unfavorable to So-
cialism.
II.
No wise man will care to underrate! Socialism, to misunder-
stand its character, confuse its issues, mistake its emphasis, or
ignore its spirit. It is too powerful in its sentiment, too strong
in organization, and too sure in its merciless criticism, to fail
to take advantage of every error committed by those who op-
pose it. Seligman observes rightly : " Instead of being the voice
of envy and confiscation, as it often appears to the smug, the
sleek, and the contented, Socialism is, to the elect few, an in-
spiring ideal and a veritable religion ; while in the case of the
mass, it is an inarticulate cry of anguish and a vague expres-
sion of the demand for social progress." If Socialism implies
mental revolution in its follower, what is the atmosphere of
mind which favors or invites it ?
The socialist surrenders the individual point of view, and
adopts a class or race point of view. He merges his interests
into the interests of the class-conscious laborers; rather he recog-
nizes these interests as objectively identified. The supreme
effort of propaganda is to emancipate the individual from an
individual point of view. Class consciousness, class action, class
interest, class domination absorb his sympathies. Where this
view takes hold in a mind, its whole psychology changes. The
sincere socialist becomes an enthusiast, an apostle, and a flood
of subjective altruism supposedly sweeps away all traces of
self-love or self-seeking. As a rule, men do not wax eloquent
over individual wrongs. They may fight or shoot, but they do
not make speeches. But when an incident represents a ten-
dency, an individual typifies a class, when "an offense to one
is the concern of all," then oratory is abundant. The socialist
individual is merely one atom of the consciousness of the so-
cialist class; in him live the issues, through him speak the
ideals which inspire the class. The socialist mind then has the
class point of view.
It has, secondly, a strong feeling for equality. As a social-
ist sees the class, it is made up of equal units, whose equality
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I906.] LIFE AND MONEY 49
is natural, ethical, originali whose inequality is accidental Knd
derived. It is felt that the '' noblest. things in men make them
all alike/' that wisdom is found in emphasizing the likeness
among men and in neglecting their differences. Thus^ to the
socialist mind, men are or ought to be equal. Justice means
equality, ultimately, if not actually ; progress is toward equality,
work and hope and sacrifice are for it. The socialist appears
to be unconscious of any passion for distinction, of any instinct
for rivalry. Where his reason fails to see what he would see,
his fertile sympathy paints as he would see, and nothing breaks
the continuity of the picture of life which so fascinates him;
equality supreme, institutions expressing it, property laws con-
firming it, emotions and sympathy sanctioning it; all men cul-
tured, free, noble through it.
Thirdly, the mind of the socialist is filled with despair of
our institutions. The downtrodden class, as a class, will not fit in
anywhere, as he sees things. That the individual may succeed
to-day does not impress the socialist, for in his mind the in-
dividual is secondary to the class, and the class is exploited.
Instead of looking at the race as in pyramidal column, the few
leading, the many following, all sharing variously in culture,
opportunity, joy, as the individualist sees it, the socialist repre-
sents, as to be striven for, a far-flung line of humanity, mov-
ing in uniform step toward culture and peace. In the indivi-
dualist's view, civilization succeeds each time that an individual
succeeds; in the socialist mind, it fails unless all succeed. As
present institutions do not favor the great laboring class, as it
cannot in any way be made chief beneficiary under them, the
socialist despairs entirely of them and advocates their suppres-
sion. As individuals are always advancing, the conservative is
ever hopeful; as the class appears not to advance, the socialist
is a victim of despair.
Yet, paradoxically or otherwise, the socialist is an idealist.
He pictures the best possible condition of society as within
reach. Back of his judgments, predetermining them, ahead of
his impressions coloring them, in and through his emotions
controlling them, appears this strain of idealism which is su-
preme. Placed by his fervent imagination in the full glare of
the light of the ideal, seeing in fancy, culture universally shared,
peace wisely ordered, joy and rest and congenial occupation
filling every life, all other light seems dark, all lesser hope dis-
TOL. LXXXIII.^4
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50 Life and Money [April,
mal, any other ambition, a sacrilege. In the mind of the so-
oialist history becomes a story of majestic advance from bar-
barism to perfect civilization ; reject Socialism as futile, and
the' socialist sees in history no record of enlarging hope and
widening emancipation. He sees rather retrogression of a no-
bly destined race to savagery.
III.
It is suggested, then, that the socialist mind appears to be
animated by the class sense, belief in equality, despair, idealism.
What is meant is that the mental set of the socialist mind i&
of that sort. Neither the first step nor the last step toward
Socialism can be easily traced out, even by him who takes it.
Whether emotion or conviction, recoil from what is seen or
attraction from what is hoped for, whether more knowledge
might have hindered, or mental or emotional intensity hastened
one in the advance to Socialism, is quite difficult to say. Burns,
the commanding labor leader in England, who has just entered
the Cabinet, became a socialist by the reading of an argument
against it ; Jack London tells us that he '' discovered that he
was a socialist " without having set out to become one. A
recent prominent convert to Socialism in Chicago stated that
he was '* incapable of a logical argument," but " he believed
in it." It is said of William Morris that he disclaimed all
knowledge of economic theory of Socialism, and referred ques-
tioners to those who knew. He knew only art.
In spite ot logic and logicians and colleges, human nature
refuses to act and feel along logical lines, and persists in ar-
riving at attitudes which are Called convictions, by its own most
devious ways. There are few chains of reasoning that have
not some links of feeling or prejudice or sentiment in them,
and these are by no means the weakest. Bacon called the
attention of men to the sources of error in the mind; to the
idols of the den, of the tribe, of the theatre, of the market;
that is, to prepossessions, mental* set, due to personal traits, ta
race traits, to social intercourse, and to systems of thought,
all of which interfere with the process of pure induction and
hinder objective views. He likened the mind to a curved mir-
ror which imparted its own form to all images which it re-
flected.
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1906.] LIFE AND MONEY SI
There is ample authority, then, for taking this view of So-
cialism; for assuming that every feature of assent will appear
among its adherents. The ihind's predisposition for or against
the class idea, equality, despair, and idealism, is a most impor-
tant factor in determining one's attitude to the doctrines ard
organization of Socialism. In this great variety in the genesis
of Socialism, it is suggested that the atmosphere is or tends to
be uniform ; that the trend of the mind is toward the mental
set described. Whatever be the initial impulse, the socialist
mind tends to become fixed in the class view, in belief in
equality, in despair, in idealism. If one walk among socialists,
and read fairly their popular literature, one finds these elements
everywhere, as doctrine, as feeling, as sympathy. This mental
set among them explains their antagonisms, hypotheses, assump-
tions, explains why they are critical or credulous, why they
d6ubt so little and know so much; how prophecy is as potent
as fact, and hope as comforting as realization. Doctrine, system,
conviction, are not lacking, but these do not at present bear
on the thought.
Sometimes men may think they are socialists when, in fact,
they are not. They may appear to assent to the doctrine, but
they lack the atmosphere. Speaking of socialists serving on
committees charged with the administration of workingmen's
insurance laws in Germany, a German employer is quoted by
Mr. Vanderlip in the North American Review (December, 1905),
as having said: "It is simply wonderful to see how the most
radic£il political shouters quiet down when they find themselves
members of a committee discussing grave matters and charged
with the responsibility of important decisions." One who can
change in that manner is not a thoroughgoing socialist. On
the other hand, men may be socialists or well on toward So-
cialism, and not suspect it. The socialistic atmosphere permeates
them, and only an incident, a chance phrase, a meeting, is re-
quired to complete the work. Any observant man may hear,
at any time, among conservative circles, expressions of emotions,
Criticisms, appreciations, that make directly and frankly for So-
cialism, if one have merely the habit oif following one's leading
emotions without reserve. It may be doubted if any socialistic
arraignment of society is more sweeping than this from Pope
Leo's Encyclical: "For the result of civil change and revolu-
tion has been to divide society into two widely differing castes.
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52 Life and Money [April,
On the one side there is the party which holds power because
it holds wealth ; which has in its grasp the whole of labor and
of trade; which manipulates for its own benefit and its own
purposes all the sources of supply, and which is represented
even in the councils of the State itself. On the other side, there
is the needy and powerless multitude, broken down and suffer-
ing, and ever ready for disturbance." While the Holy Father
checks the effect of this criticism by suggesting conservative
action, still, profound belief in it, uncorrected by broader views,
might be a short road to very radical positions.
The forces, views, conditions, contrasts, ideals, in modern
life, that tend to generate a mental atmosphere, which we may
call socialistic, that is, that tend to develop in many minds
the class point of view, feeling for equality, despair of institu-
tions, and idealism ; all of them, or any of them, may be said
to contribute, formally or materially, directly or indirectly, to
the development of Socialism. Forces, views, conditions, am-
bitions in society which hinder the development of these men-
tal attitudes, may be said to act as a barrier to the develop-
ment of Socialism. We come then to the question : What is
the relation of modern extravagance to the development of
Socialism? Do our habits of spending, of living beyond means,
living in debt, tend to produce a state of mind which is recep-
tive to the doctrines and claims of Socialism ? The outlines of
an answer will be suggested in the next paper. Meantime it
may be well, by way of conclusion, to note the peculiar re-
lation that these traits of Socialism have to life in general.
Our American traditions, our institutions, aim to foster equal-
ity among men in political relations; the socialist holds that
the logic of that view leads directly to Socialism. The Labor
movement attempts with tireless energy and resourceful meth-
ods to induce the laboring class to believe in the class point
of view and to organize for its expression. The vast majority
that remain unconverted show how difficult must be the task,
and the bitter contests resulting unfortunately at times in per-
sonal violence, between union and non-union men, reveal a
tenacity of view on each side that suggests the resisting quali-
ties of granite as well as the explosiveness of powder. Poets,
literary, men of the highest order, religion clothed with the
authority of heaven and endowed with all the power of earth,
have tried to foster idealism and bring men to the ideal, but
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I906.] LIFE AND MONEY S3
the partial failure that has met them loudly proclaims the futil-
ity of hoping for entire success.
With such prestige, teaching, sanction for belief in equal-
ity, in idealism, in the class point of view, it is not to be won-
dered at that some at least would feel their emotions aroused,
and carry these doctrines to extremes. This Socialism does.
Whatever the motive of the socialist, whether love or hate,
envy or resentment; whatever the mental and moral views
which enter into the system which he holds, be feels that he
carries the principles which underlie our institutions to their
necessary conclusions. The conservative, who admits a class
point of view, or limited equality, or modified idealism, always
corrects his assent by admitting other truths bearing on these.
He sees class, but also individual; equality, but also inequal-
ity; fault, but also virtue; idealism, but as well the limita-
tions of nature and life. The socialist appears to be carried
away by his logic; if he take the class point of view at all,
he takes it completely; if he believe in democracy, he applies
it to industry as well as to State; if men are equal at all, they
are to be equalized entirely or nearly so; if idealism have any
value, it is entirely feasible, and one should strive for it. In
this way we understand Socialism's claim that it is merely
the logical extension to industrial life of accepted principles.
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THE PRAYER OF CHRIST. '
BY GEORGE TYRRELL. S.J.
XIII.
r was in the consciousness of union and solidarity
with his people past and present, of membership
in Israel, that the Jew invoked God as ''Our
Father." Ho was Israel's God, the God of Abra-
ham, Isaac, ajid Jacob. Moab and Egypt had
their gods ; but Israel alone had the true God, and none could
claim his fatherhood and protection save through Israel and
as adopted into the family of Abraham. There was a note of
exclusiveness in the pronoun "our"; it meant "ours" and
not "theirs." That the individual as such, and apart from his
title of membership with Israel, had a right to call God "Fa-
ther" or "my Father "'had hardly come into clear and gene-
ral recognition in Christ's day. As in eailier forms of society,
the people was everything, the individual was altogether sub-
ordinate. Israel collectively was God's son ; or, if later the
dignity was vested in the King or promised Messias, it was as
in the representative of the whole people.
It is to the influence of Christ's teaching that we owe that
development of the sense of personality which has destroyed
the excessive collectivity of ancient social institutions, has led
to a juster idea of the relation of the individual to the com-
munity, and has taught us that neither can be wholly subordi-
nated to the other, that their interests are common ; that the
heart and perfection of the one is the heart and perfection of
the other. But the modern reaction against old-world collec-
tivism has often been in the direction of a crude individualism
as hurtful to true spiritual personality as ever was slavery.
One great factor, at least, of such personality was saved in the
Israelite's sense of participation in a corporate life, in the
cause of God, in the kingdom of heaven. When he stood in
the Temple with the worshippers; when he went forth to fight
the battles of Israel, he was no longer himself in the narrower
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f906.] THE PRAYER OF CHRIST 55
sense; it was the life of God's people which pulsed in biis
veins, and raised his own separate value and importance in the
eyes of him who is the Father of each as well as the Father
of all ; he has not yet broken down the walls of partition that
divided Israel after the flesh from Israel after the 3pirit, that
narrowed the cause of God to the cause of a nation ; be had
not yet entered intp an all-inclusive universal life; but he had
to a great extent risen to a sense of spiritual personality and
had entered into the divine life as far as be understood it.
Far deeper and wider was the divine love that burned in
Christ's heart; and whose meaning and implication were ever
clear to his vision. He who felt not merely the effects and
manifestations of God's fatherliness towards Israel, but also
its very root and substance, felt also that it could not be so
limited to Israel as to exclude any creature begotten and sus«-
tained by Eternal Love; that though there were infinite de-
grees and kinds of sonship, yet God's love for the least of bis
children was "greater than the measure of man's mind"; that
no will could be perfectly true to this which set limits to hu-
man brotherhood. It is not the voice of Israel alone, but the
voice of all humanity, the voice of all creation, the blended
voices of the "Benedicite" that cried: "Our Father who art
in heaven."
This is evident from our Lord's whole practice and teach-
ing, as set before us in the Gospels, and as interpreted more
explicitly by St. Paul. His life was one prolonged fight against
exclusivism in any sense; and in the interests of Catholicism
in every sense. Whom or what did he shut out from bis
love ? Nothing that bears the shape of man ; nothing that
breathes the breath of life; not the birds of the air, nor the
grass of the field, nor the heaven that is God's throne, nor the
earth that is his footstool. Hence St. Paul (Coloss. i. 19)
speaks of the whole %fulness of creation as dwelling in him, as
gathered up into bis consciousness and bis love, as already
sharing in the redemption which bis blood bad wrought for
all mankind, as groaning and travailing for the fuller deliverf
ance to come.
XIV.
Tats sense of solidarity, through God, with all that pro*
ceeds from God and belongs to God, is of the. essence of the
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56 THE PRAYER OF CHRIST [April,
spirit-life: ''AH things are yours; and you ^re Christ's, and
Christ is God's." God is trancendent ; he stretches beyond the
world in every direction ; infinitely higher, deeper, wider. But
it is only through, in, and with the world that we are one
with him; we must take it all into ourselves, into our thought,
feeling, and will, if we would possess him. That mysticism is
doomed to sterility which would see him, like the entombed
hermits of Thibet* in absolute silence and darkness; which
would empty the mind and heart of every creature in the vain
hope of finding more room for God. As little could our mind
thibk of life apart from things that live. What God is out of
relation to his creatures, his creatures can never know. "What-
ever ghostly figure of him such as abstract contemplation may
conjure up, owes the little substance it has to relics of con-
crete living experience which the mind has failed to banish,
and which still cling to it in its mad endeavor to soar up,
beyond all atmosphere, to the region of the absolute.
The seeming justification of this endeavor to escape from
creatures lies in the notorious fact that the preoccupation and
over- crowding of the heart and mind with creatures are mani-
festly hurtful to converse with God. Such converse is favored
by the liberation of the faculties for the contemplation of
divine things; hence the conclusion, that a total liberation
should be our aim. This is equivalent to supposing that, be-
cause surfeit is injurious to health, starvation can never hurt
us. Life, experience, is the pabulum of the spirit. As the
bee goes to and fro between the garden and its hive, now
gathering, now storing up and utilizing what it has gathered,
so the spirit lives by alternations of experience and reflection.
An undue excess of either over the other is fatal; either re-
ligion is choked amid thorns and briars, or it becomes ab.
stract, empty, unreal, out of relation to life, a frail thought-
structure imperilled by every breath of fresh air. We need
then to pause frequently in life; to turn from experience back
to reflection and prayer, so as to consider experience explicitly
in its relation to God, as revealing him ; and then to turn
from prayer and reflection to the quest of new experience with
an enlarged capacity for receiving and profiting by it; with a
greater power of assimilating it. And thus gradually should
the whole world become food to us. " If thy heart were but
right," says A Kempis, "every creature would be to thee a
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I906.] THE PRAYER OF CHRIST 57
mirror of life, a holy book; for there is no creature so small
or despicable as not in some way to represent the divine good-
ness." The way to contemplation, therefore, is not to fly from
creatures, but so to rectify the heart by reflection, that one
can gradually embrace them all; for the more we embrace of
them, the more we embrace of God.
Thfe spirit in prayer, then, comes face to face with God,
without intermediary; but it must not come alone, isolated,
separate. Such separateness belongs to the psychic self. Th^
spirit takes the whole world into its thought and affection,
gives it a consciousness and a voice which cries, not "My
Father," but "Our Father" — "ours," because inclusive of every-
thing, exclusive of nothing. Through the spirit the whole
world returns to God in praise; but to return through it, the
world must enter into it, must be assimilated and traii«<'ormed
by it.
In One alone has it been 90, perfectly ; that One whose
"heart was right" in a unique sense; that One who alone
could say: "All mine are thine, and all thine are mine"; that
One in whom "it pleased the Father that all fulness should
dwell," and of whose fulness we have all received.
It is vain then to approach the altar, to draw near to
God, if one is estranged from one's brother. Let him first go,
and, by reconciliation, take the whole world into his heart, and
so come and offer it, together with himself, as a gift. As the
negative estrangement of indifference starves the soul, and as
the positive estrangement of hostility narrows and contracts it
by pressure and opposition, so it is sustained, strengthened,
expanded, enriched by spiritual communion with others, in the
measure that it lives in them and they in it. "I in them, and
thou in me, that we all may be perfect in one."
If this holds pre eminently of the rational creature, of the
world of spirits and wills, yet it must be extended in due
proportion to the humbler and humblest orders of existence to
which man, in virtue of his complex nature, stands in relation
of brotherhood :
He prayeth best who loveth best
All things both great and smalt;
For the dear God who loveth us.
He made and loveth all.
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58 THE PRAYER OF CHRIST {April,
This we had learnt already fropi the Hebrew psalmist ; tbi^
was the inspiration of the authors of the Laudate and the
Benedicite. But what with them may have been but a spiritual
instinct, was for Christ a felt fact, a clear vision. His joy in
creation was enriched with a sense ef fraternity and affection.
He beheld all things proceeding from the same root as man,
fostered by the same love. It was the same Father who clothed
the lilies of the field and Solomon in all his glory; who fed
the birds of the air and the Israelites in the desert; who
noted the fall of a sparrow and numbered the hairs of man'3
head. To the Poverello of Assisi belongs the glory of hav-
ing resolved the harmony of Christ's spirit into its closely
allied components of sorrow and joy; of having taken each
apart, and brought it home with new freshness to the Christian
consciousness. The prophets had told us that "The sea is his
and he made it, and his hands prepared the dry land — the
strength of the hills is his also " ; that " the earth is the Lord's
and the fulness thereof " ; that " sun, modn, and stars obey
him"; that "the winds are his messengers and lightnings his
ministers " ; but they had hardly reached that joyous sense of
brotherhood and friendliness which belongs to the child of
God, and springs from the deeper intuition of his Fatherhood,
which greets the sun as a brother and the moon as a sister
through an inspiration of true fraternal feeling, and not merely
through a flight of poetic fancy. ^
It may be rightly objected that this nature-feeling often
exists when the love of God and man is weak, and is absent
when this is strong. One might reply that those who so lack
it would be all the better for it; that no one loves God more
for loving nature less ; or less, for loving nature more. Th^
true answer is that not all nature -feeling is religious, but only
that which springs from the intuition of God*s Fatherhood, and
whose quality and extent are determined by the depth and
purity of that intuition.
XV.
"Generationem ejus quis ennarabit?" — "Who shall declare
his generation ? " These words have been applied somewhat
poetically, by patristic writers, to signify the mysterious gen-
eration of the Eternal Son. They might be applied with equal
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i9o6.] The Prayer of Christ 59
truth to the mystery of the origin of all things; to the rela-
tion of fatherhood and sonship that obtains between God and
the last and least of his creatures.
We know well that the dependence of the creature is im-
measurably greater, closer, and other than that of a son; that
sonship is little more than a symbol, a feeble image of reality,
an expression which belongs to the order of parables and simili-
tudes rather than to that of allegories or metaphors. We can-
not break the idea into its factors, and find for each of them
a parallel in the relation of creaturehood. Some of them cor-
respond, others do not ; hence, sonship is a similitude of crea-
turehood, partly like, partly unlike. Thus a son is begotten
by an act that passes, a creature is being breathed forth by
God's love at every moment of its existence; a son becomes
separate from and independent of his father, a creature is ever
clinging to the bosom of God ; a son is a product Of blind in-
stinct and necessity, a creature is. a product of intelligence and
unconstrained lave ; a son reaches maturity and attains the per-
fection of his father's nature, a creature will always fall infi<>
nitely short of the perfection of the Creator. Other relation-
ships offer points of similitude, and have been used to supple-
ment the poverty of that of fatherhood and sonship. '* Though
a mother should forget her child, yet will not I forget thee."
^' How often would I have gathered thee as a hen gathered
her chickens under her wing." ''There is one that sticketh
closer than a brother." " Abraham was called the Friend of
God." Here we see how God is our Mother, Brother, and
Friend. Mystics delight to see iji him the soul's Spouse and
Lover. Nay, he is even in some way the child of his childrenj;
the servant of his servants : " Inasmuch as ye did it to the
least of these, my little ones, ye. did it unto me." "Lo« I am
in your midst as he who servetb " — for our Lord says these
things in the name of the Father and as revealing the Father
who, in so many ways, is dependent on us and serves us.
Yet Fatherhood is the similitude in which he has pripci-
pally revealed his relation to us. And if, in various civiliza-
tions, the rights and duties of fatherhood have been variously
understood, we need not on that account be over-critical to
determine exactly how they were understood in Galilee two
thousand years ago; for that would be to press a similitude,
point by point, as though it were a metaphor. Its value lies
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6o THE PRAYER OF CHRIST [April^
in what fatherhood signifies everywhere and always, under al)
varieties' of usage and custom, namely, a claim to reverence and
love.
XVI.
The conception of God as a Father is easy for religion in
its childish stages, when reverence and love are but crude and
embryonic. But when science has pulverized the earth and
made it a speck in a measureless waste of sand ; when it has
shown us the reign of ruthless law in little and great, with-
out us and within us; and when reflection has penetrated us
with the sense of God's otherness and unlikeness, and brought
them home to our feeling and imagination ; then, indeed, it is
only the very heroism of faith that can affirm a likeness and
sameness notwithstanding, and can say : " Our Father who art
in heaven."
Yet without such a faith, our mental and moral life must
be brought to a standstill through a paralysing scepticism. If
God's otherness were such that what is false in us might be
true in him, or what is evil in us might be good in him; if,
as rash preachers have sometimes implied, he has a right to
deceive or to be cruel ; if differences of false and true, good
and evil-, depend merely on his arbitrary ^^Z / then our stan-
dards of moral and mental endeavor are purely relative. We
might fear such a Being as we fear^an earthquake, or a vol-
cano, or the unknown and capricious forces of nature; but
reverence him we could not. Reverence is not of the merely
vast and wondrous, but of an excellence that is vast and won-
derful ; what we reverence is an excellence which we can un-
understand, magnified beyond our understanding. And this is
the excellence of personality, of the human spirit — its power,
wisdom, goodness, and love. In us these attributes are separ-
ate, and limited each to its kind ; that in God they should be
unlimited and identical, makes him endlessly vast and wonder-
ful, the supreme object of mystic awe. It makes him unlike
u^in his likeness. But it is the substance of these same spiritual
excellences, as distinct from their limits and modes, that makes
him like us in his unlikeness and constrains us to cry: "Our
Father."
But it is only by faith of the highest kind that this father-
hood can be held firmly, so as to be the governing inspiration
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1906.] THE PRAYER OF CHRIST 6 1
of our lives. The evidence of all-controlling goodness and love
in the world round us grows weaker and not stronger in the
cold light of purely intellectual criticism ; for such reasons ex-
clude the reasons of the he^t. It sees only a vast mechanism,
callously grinding out good and evil, joy s^nd sorrow, On no
conceivable plan; now rewarding virtue, now punishing it with
a capriciousness that excludes all idea of intelligent goodness.
We could not possibly love, praise, or reverence a man who
acted as nature, or God through nature, seems to act. We
should feel ourselves immeasurably better than such a one, for
all our selfishness and frailty — that is to say, if we were to
attend to what seems to be, to the imperfect revelation of God
given in the world, apart from the things made known in the
heart. Could the worst of us stand by and witness the agonies
of any innocent creature, if our bare fiat could relieve those
agonies ? One such instance would be an unanswerable diffi-
culty against millions of contrary instances. Yet there are
oceans of agony all round us at every moment. We cannot,
then, under pain of moral scepticism, say that the world, as it
seems in the light of purely intellectual criticism, appears to be
the work of One who is at once All-Good and All-Mighty.
But to study the world apart from man's heart, is like study-
ing music on its mathematical side, and without reference to
the ear. Man's heart is also the heart of the world, not some-
thing outside it ; and neither of them can be studied truthfully
in abstraction from the other. Had the Bouddha looked within
as well as without, he might have divined a power that could
transmute the all-pervading waters of human tribulation into
the wine of gladness ; but in his contemplation he sat aloof, as
one who witnesses a play in which he has no part; as having
no sense of his solidarity with the world which he condemned.
Faith in God's Fatherhood is our answer to the revelation
of his Fatherhood, a revelation which is made in our own spirit
by God's Spirit. It comes to us as a feeling; not as a blind
feeling, but as a felt truth, a felt reality; as a feeling which
implies and demands a truth. "We have received the Spirit of
adoption wherein we cry : Abba, Father." " The Spirit itself
beareth witness to our spirit that we are the sons of God."
And, in its ethical manifestation, this Spirit is "Charity" or
"Love." It is, therefore, in the sudden kindling of our purest
and strongest spiritual love, that the revelation of God's Father-
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62 THE PRAYER OF CHRIST [Aprils
hood is given to our faith; when, ''Like a man in wrath, the
heart stands up and answers: 'I have felt"*; when it asks:
" Shall man be more just than his Maker ? " '' Shall he be more
good, more pitiful, more wise, more loving ? " " He that made
the eye, shall he not see ? " " He that made the ear, shall he
not hear ? '* " He that made the heart, shall he Hot understand ? *'
When it cries : " Though he should slay me, yet will I hope in
him." In such moments we feel that the life and the love
within us stream from the very centre and heart of reality, from
the veins of the Eternal who lives in us, of our Father in
heaven, we feel that what pains and resists our higher will in
the world round us, pains and resists him too ; that he, through
us and in us, in some mysterious way, is in conflict with al)
that evil whose opposition to the spirit is the very condition
of spiritual growth and expansion ; that he is battling with ig-
norance, error, selfishness, suffering and sin.
It is this faith in the revelation of the spirit — faith in the
intuitions of love, faith in the felt truths of our best moments —
that warms and fills up the chill and ghostly conception of a
'** Supreme Being," infinitely vast and strange ; that corrects our
despairing sense of God's otherness and distance by a trustful
sense of his likeness and nearness ; that transforms mere awe
and wonder into filial reverence and love.
Of this faith it is said : '' No man knoweth the Son but the
Father, neither knoweth any man the Father save the Son and
he to whom the Son will reveal him"; and again: "Flesh and
blood hath not revealed it to thee, but my Father who is in
heaven."
XVII.
This explicit faith in God*s Fatherhood gives life its warmth.
Let us contrast the life without faith in its best and highest
manifestation, and the life with faith in its thinnest and poor-
est manifestation. Let us take the case of a truly cultivated
man of the highest moral principle and practice, one whose
will is, unawares, altogether sympathetic with the Divine Wilt;
whose life is sincerely, selflessly, and Enthusiastically devoted ta
the interests of truth and goodness; and yet whose religion
has remained implicit and latent; who has never realized the
Lawgiver behind the law which his conscience imposes; wha
has never felt the personality of that Goodness and Truth for
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i9o6.] THE Prayer of Christ 6j
whose claims he wotild utterly sacrifice self indeed, but with a
confused notion that it was himself to whom he was sacrificing.
Such a purely ethical life — so far as explicit consciousness goes
—is, after all, a monologue of the heart, a cold soliloquy. The
faith that, somehow or other, Goodness matters absolutely and
externally, is a blind faith that must either stumble, or open
its eyes on God's face. As the race of man on earth began,
so it will also end, within an appreciable time; and then, faith
apart, what will it matter whether we have lived well or ill ?
Is not then the affirmation of conscience as to the absolute and
eternal importance of right a lie? Only by a studious self-
Minding to ultimate problems, can such a man as we have de-
scribed escape a sterilizing pessimism, and maintain his spirit-
life in its vigor. And even if he succeed, still in his heart he
is always alone.
And if, as usually happens, the circumstances and conditions
are far less favorable than above described — if he be an un-
cultufed, lonely, aimless, unsuccessful, or much-tempted man
—then he will feel the chill of faithlessness far more keenly
than one clad in prosperity. But let a man be never so im-
poverished and obscure, socially, mentally, and even morally, if
he has an explicit faith in God's Fatherhood, it will transform
his spirit-life into a dialogue, and abolish his inward loneliness.
Each thought and action, however small, are felt not only to
matter absolutely and eternally, but to strengthen or loosen ties
of love and friendship with the Divine Spirit and Father of
Spirits.
" I am not alone," says Christ, '' but I, and the Father who
sent me" (John viii. i6). If a certain dualism of oneself against
oneself is a practical necessity of the moral life, a dualism of
person against person is no less a necessity of the religious life ;
and to this need he has ministered who has taught us to say :
"Our Father."
XVIII.
Thus the new wine bursts the old bottles. The new love
of Christ, the new commandment of Christ, the new spirit of
Christ could not be cramped up in the Old Testament catego-
ries and modes of thought. Into every time- honored phrase
and expression a new wealth of meaning was crowded. "Go
borrow thee vessels abroad of all thy neighbors, even empty
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64 THE Prayer of Christ [April.
vessels, borrow not a few" (IV. Kings iv. 3). In obedience to
some prophetic impulse the Christian Church wandered forth
among the Gentiles, borrowing their vessels, even their empty
vessels, right and left, to hold the treasures for which she found
no receptacle in the home of her birth. And if the flow of oil
is stayed, it is not that its source is dry, or that we have ex-
hausted the depth of meaning latent in the *' Our Father," but
only because "there is not a vessel more." Wherever human
thought frames a larger and worthier vessel, that too will be
filled.
Christ's love was a '^ felt truth " ; feeling alone was its
adequate expression ; no language could ever equal it It was
not only the feeling of a truth, but the feeling of an end, of a
will to be accomplished; it was at once a perfection of mind,
heart, and will— of the whole spirit-life.
The invocation " Our Father who art in heaven " is designed
to bring our spirit into accord with his; to determine our in-
ward attitude of prayer in the presence of God; to adjust our
feeling, our thought, and our will ; to safeguard the emotional,
moral, and mystical interests of the spirit against material en-
croachments, against sentimentality, against mysticality, and
against practicality.
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THE MARGIN OF FAITH.
BY GEORGE M. SEARLE, C.S.P.
]N a recent number of this magazine, the author of
an article on ''The Church and Her Saints/'
makes a rather important statement which, to
say the least, is certainly open to discussion. He
makes it, however, with perfect confidence, and,
36 he is undoubtedly a learned and able man, it may probably be
accepted with equal confidence by many even of those in whom
personally it would not be verified. It may then be well to
examine it, and see if it is as correct as it may seem.
The statement is as follows; we give the exact words:
" For better or worse, the pia credulitas of the Middle Ages
has disappeared almost completely, except among those who
do not read. Intelligent Catholics are becoming more exacting
in the matter of evidence, before they believe anything outside
the domain of authoritative doctrine."
Now there are several points in this statement, and also
some things implied which are not directly stated. It is also
in some ways a little ambiguous in meaning. Let us see if we
understand it correctly.
Dr. Fox tells us that the "//« credulitas,** or pious credul-
ity, of the Middle Ages has disappeared almost completely,
except among those who do not read. One would at first im-
agine that he means by "those who do not read," those who
cannot read. But by what immediately precedes, it would seem
that he rather means those who do not read promiscuously ; or,
more precisely, those who try to confine their reading — as of
course Catholics, without some special reason to the contrary,
should do— to matter approved, or, at any rate, allowed as
perfectly safe by the Church.
Those Catholics who do read the stuff that Dr. Fox speaks
of, the ** popular editions of historical, scientific, and philoso-
phic works — the current novel and the daily newspaper," that
VOL. LXXXJII. — 5
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66 THE MARGIN OF FAITH [Aprils
is, if they swallow down their contents from beginning to end, un-
doubtedly have a hard task, unless fortified by such instruction as
only a priest usually can receive, in reconciling it all \irith ad-
hesion to even the irreducible dogmatic teaching of the Church ;
still more, of course, with the '* pia credulitas^** which believes
much beyond this dogmatic teaching. Dr. Fox, if this be his
meaning, seems certainly to be correct.
But let us look at this matter of ** pia credulitas!^ and see
just what it is. It may, we think, be defined as the disposi-
tion to readily believe either doctrines or facts which seem in
harmony with Catholic faith, or with the usual customs or
ideas of Catholics; to pay more attention by far to the devo-
tions and practices authorized by the Holy Roman Church, to-
the beliefs which she encourages, and to the common belief of
the faithful, than to the objections of learned critics.
' Now this disposition is, thank God, still tolerably strong
amDng great numbers of Catholics, who certainly have a right,,
in the ordinary way of speaking, to be called intelligent; fully
as much so as those wlio waste their intelligence over the*
'^'popular editions'' just referred to. But with their intelli-
gence, they have faith, strong and also reasonable.- With re-
gard to the matter of miracles, for instance, their faith teaches
them that miracles are to be expected in the Church. '' He
that believeth in me,'' says our Lord, ''the works that I do,,
he also shall do, and greater than these shall he do." If any
one believes this thoroughly, he will not be surprised at a
reported Catholic miracle, or disposed to doubt or disbelieve
it; he knows, of course, that the report may be false, but the
presumption will be not against it, but in its favor. He wilt
rather be surprised that there are not more miracles even than
aH that are reported; and if he be pious, he will certainly wish
that there were more; for every manifestation of the divine
power, especially in favor of the Catholic Church, is a grati-
fication and a consolation to piety. And it is plain that this
disposition of mind is not only piou.s, but also logical.
Again this truly reasonable, as well as pious, tendency to-
believe is shown in the various devotions approved by the
Church. What can be more reasonable than to expect that
the various mysteries of our holy religion will be developed
in^o devotions, some attracting some minds, some others, and
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1906.] THE MARGIN OF FAITH 67
that these devotions will be rewarded by special marks of the
divine favor? Or why should we not expect that God will
honor, from time to time, some special saint in a very notable
way, and attract crowds of the faithjful to invoke him ? In
some cases — that of St. Expeditus may be mentioned — these
devotions may possibly be based on some mistake or misun-
derstanding; but the divine intelligence is not worried, as our
poor wisdom is, by blunders, and kindly and lovingly tolerates
them, and even miraculously rewards the faith shown by them.
It seems to us that every one who believes in God, as he is
revealed to us in the Church, should rejoice in every devotion
which is not plainly superstitious; that the presumption should
always be in favor of such devotions. Of course the Church
herself needs to be more careful than an individual Catholic in
their approval; we can adopt them more freely than the
Church can. Some people, however, seem to be offended by
them; even in the great, principal, and undoubtedly salutary
ones it is, as Blessed Grignon de Montfort says : '^ all they
can do to endure that there should be more people before the
altar of the Blessed Virgin than before the Blessed Sacrament,
as if the one was contrary to the other, as ii those who prayed
to our Blessed Lady did not pray to Jesus Christ hy her."
Thcrse he kindly terms the "scrupulous devotees."
Now this attitude of mind, which is rightly known as ^^ pia
credulitas^* and which we have just endeavored to sketch, is
not broken up or even shocked, if it is intelligent, as it may
perfectly well be, by finding that something which it has be-
lieved to be true is not so. But it requires proof of the
falsity. It is precisely the contrary of that which Dr. Fox
ascribes to " intelligent Catholics." It requires evidence before
disbelieving what is commonly believed in the Church, not evi-
dence before believing it.
A startling example of this difference may be found in the
matter of the Assumption of our Blessed Lady. According. to
Dr. Fox, intelligent Catholics must be getting all the tim^
more and more doubtful about it For, so far as we are
aware, no new evidence is coming in in its favor; perhaps the
Church may define it as a matter of faith; but there is no
certainty to that effect. .The case is just where it has been
for centuries. If, then, our intelligent Catholics are becoming
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68 THE Margin of Faith [April,
more exacting in the matter of evidence, they must be becom-
ing less satisfied with that which exists; or, as has been said,
more and more doubtful about the fact of the Assumption.
But the ^^ pia credulitas** — undoubtedly including Dr. Fpx him-
self — is practically just as sure of it as if it had been defined,
and is not losing that confidence at all.
There were some intelligent — or, at any rate, learned —
Catholics, who felt it due to their intelligence to doqbt the
dogma of Papal Infallibility before its definition. The miqd
of the Church was plain enough; tht^pia creduUtas " hsid no
doubt about it at all. But these intelligent Catholics were
holding off; becoming, as Dr. Fox says, ''more exactiQg ,in
the matter of evidence " ; nothing would satisfy them but a defi-
nition. The result, in many cases, showed the danger, and in-
deed the want of thorough intelligence, in being too exacting.
They had the definition; but still they were not satisfied.
It hardly needs to be remarked that we do not mean to
§ay that Dr. Fox himself is in the state of mind which he
seems to tell us is that of a really intelligent Catholic. He is
highly and thoroughly intelligent; there is no doubt abqut
that. So when he says that "intelligent Catholics are becom-
ing more exacting," etc., he means simply to state that the
effect of this hodge-podge of education which Catholics are
likely to receive from the mixed, influences surrounding them,
and which mikes them intelligent in the sense of being' — or, at
any rate, wishing to be — " up to date," has a bad effect oji the
spirit of faith which they ought to have.
But now to come down to the matter of fact: Is it really
true that with the majority of the reading public, in the Church
or outside of it, there is a trend in the direction of scepticism,
which requires continually more and more evidence to satisfy
it, at any rate where anything supernatural (or preternatural)
is concerned ?
It will, we think, be generally admitted that such, not long
ago, was the case. In the latter part of the nineteenth cen-
tury, there was no doubt a period in which materialism was in
vogue; in which it seemed that physical science was getting
settled on quite a solid basis; that we knew its laws pretty
thoroughly, and that there was no escape from them, so that
we could tell fairly well what was possible, what impossible.
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I906.] THE MARGIN OF FAITH 69
Miracles were, of course, in the latter class. Spiritism, which
excited so much interest in the middle of the century, was not
in favor with the popular leaders of thought. Scientific men
refused to examine it, and unhesitatingly condemned it as a
fraud.
But a change has gradually come over the spirit of the age,
and it is still going on. Whether it be from the unsettling oT
some conclusions of science which seemed almost proved, which
has resulted from discoveries like that of radium; or whether
it be from a mere weariness of the " reign of law " ; or
whether it be from the irrepressible longings of the human
spirit, and its consciousness of superiority to matter; from
whatever cause it may be, an interest hsts lately been awakened
in phenomena which not long ago were simply ridiculed ; a
tendency toward supernatural religion has developed, and an
intense desire has arisen to prove the reality of life beyond
the grave. To a great extent this has come from the investi-
gations of the Society for Psychical Research.
But this interest, this tendency, this desire, have been the
motive, even more than the result, of those investigations.
The world, outside the Church, instead of requiring more and
more evidence fof the supernatural, is requiring less and less.
It is more prone to belief day by day; were it not for this^
our expositions of the Catholic faith would command nothing
like the attention that they actually receive. The world is
tired of destroying; it wants to reconstruct. It is ceasing to
regard the age of miracles as past; it is looking for and ex-
pecting them. If it does not find them in the Catholic Church,
it will insist on finding them elsewhere. And it wants posi-
tive teaching and plenty of it. It wants a religion like the
Citholic religion, not a mere rationalistic philosophy.
It must, probably, be confessed that this tendency outside
the Church has hardly as yet been followed within her fold.
The swing of thought, so to speak, outside the Church, has its
eflfect on Catholics, but it takes some time for the effect to be
produced. Owing to our conservative instinct, we are likely
not to be affected by changes of thought outside till they are
somewhat spent, and a new movement has set in. The pious
credulity of which we have spoken has always been, and we
think always will be, the disposition of Catholics in general;
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^o The Margin of Faith [April,
but, 80 far as there has been any change, it has probably been
lately in the direction indicated by the statement or remark of
Dr. Fox with which we began. The reason seems to be that
we — some of us at any rate — are, or wish to be, " up to date,"
but our date is some twenty or thirty years behind the pres-
ent one. For instance, we are still sneering at ghosts, thought-
transference, spirit communications, with the scientific world of
twenty or thirty years ago, while that world is beginning to
see that these matters are worthy of examination. We are be-
coming critical and incredulous just when the world is getting
tired of being so.
So, with all respect for Dr. Fox, and those who work on the
lines which he recommends in his article, we think that those
lines, as a. rule, are mistaken ones, and especially just now. As
a rule, we say ; for there are cases, like that of Batlaam and
Josaphat^ which he adduces, where some special explanations
may be advisable. But to slash away at all that is dear to the
"//tf credulitas,*' to take up everything that is not absolutely
of faith, and labor to show all the objections that can be made
to it, seems to us entirely unnecessary. It seems quite sufficient
to say : '' These matters are not of faith ; it is quite possible that
criticism outside the Church may be able to throw doubt on
them; if they are really disproved, the Church will abandon
them, and we, of course, will be quite ready to do the same."
But, until then, it is rather our part to furnish arguments for
them than against them. There is no need for us to do the
enemy's work, even with the best intentions, unless we really
wish to reduce religion to a minimum; to allow no one to be-
lieve more than is absolutely obligatory^ i,e., the ''authorita-
tive doctrine" of which Dr. Fox speaks, and which we have
presumed — fairly enough, we think — to mean what authority
requires us to believe under pain of sin.
And we fear that the result of the course which he recom-
mends, instead of securing Catholics in this irreducible faith,
will be to tempt them to drop something off of this as well. In
the case of the " old Catholics," referred to above, the danger
of believing nothing but what is defined seems quite plain.
" We should not fear to say what is true," as Dr. Fox
quotes from Pope Leo XIII. in the beginning. But it would
seem that this applies rather to exhaustive treatments of a
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I906 ] THE MARGIN OF FAITH 7 1
subject, such as historians aim at; and these we are not al-
ways obliged to make. We should, of course, acknowledge
what we have, deemed true to be false, if it is definitely proved
to be so ; but there seems to be no obligation to rehearse all
that can be said against it. Any harm that its adversaries can
do is averted by simply saying that we are not committed
to it.
The disposition to believe what seems in harmony with faith,
and the actual holding, resulting from this disposition, of a
number of beliefs which we have called '' the margin of faith "
in the title of this article, will always, we think, be common
among Cat}iolics; and the disposition is, so far as it is free
from superstition, a most excellent one, and this '' margin of
faith " a protection, not a danger, to the faith itself. It seems
to us better to leave it unharmed, unless we are absolutely
compelled to act otherwise.
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MADAME DE MIRAMION.*
1629-1696.
BY HON. MRS. M. M. MAXWELL SCOTT.
" Jc fais la reverence k la sainte ct modestc sepulture dc Mme. dc Guise . ... et
pour Mme. de Miramion, cettc M6rc dc I'figlise, se sera une perte public " {Mwu, de Sevigni).
E history of the seventeenth century in France
is rich in records of great women, and it is
difficult to choose among lives so brilliant in
virtue and talent; but the story of Mme. de
Miramion has an advantage over that of many of
her contemporaries, as it has been twice written, once by her
cousin, the Abb^ de Choisy, in 1707, and again in our own
day,* so that we have full and detailed biographies to assist
us in the interesting study of her character and of the stirring
times in which she lived.
Marie Bonneau de Rubelle was born in Paris on November
26, 1629, her father being Jacques Bonneau, Seigneur de Ru-
belle and Councillor and Secretary to the King, and her mother,
Marie d'lvry, of a noble family in Melun. By her birth Marie
belonged to one of those great families " of the Robe," which
were the glory of France at that time and which appear to
have shared in most of the privileges and honors of the Court
and society, although not entitled to call themselves "noble.'^
Marie's life was early overshadowed by sorrow, for she lost
her mother when she was only nine years old. Mme. de Ru-
belle, who was " of a rare merit but of delicate health," had
taken great care of her education, and, as if foreseeing her
own early death, had striven to impress sentiments of solid
piety in her child's heart. Marie was inconsolable for her loss,
and " child though she was," says Choisy, " she made reflec-
tions upon this death in a way much above her age," and be-
came ill from grief. Although she soon regained her health,
she seems never to have lost the impression of this first sorrow,
which left on her character a trace of sadness and gravity
* Mme, de Beaukamais de Miramion, Par M. Alfred Bonneau. Paris, 1868.
t For mention of Mme. de Miramion, consult also the lives of St. Vincent de Paul, the
Duchesse d'Aiguillon, Mile, le Gras, Valckenaer's Mme, de Sevigni^ etc.
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i9o6;] Madame de Miramion 73
never afterwards effaced. She grieved especially, as other sen^
sitive souls have done, that she had not loved her mother enough
in the short years they were together, but this griefs helped
her to form a resolution to imitate her in all the duties of
piety and charity which she had seen her practise.
Marie's governess was a pious and excellent person, whose
influence strengthened her pupil in her good resolves and in
the development of her character, and she was her best friend
at this moment, for her father's official duties absorbed his time.
Left a widower with five children — for Marie had four broth-
ers — M. de Rubelle felt anxious at his daughter's lonefiness,
and accepted his brother's, M. de Bonneau's, invitation to live
with him in his vast hotel in the Marais^ where- his sons could
be brought up with their cousins, and his daughter benefit by
her aunt's care. The change from the quiet home life, to which
she was accustomed, to the large, gay, and luxurious household
of the de Bonneau, was a very considerable one for Marie.
Mme. de Bonneau, n^e Fallu du Ruan, had a brilliant salon,
where all the legal luminaries of Paris, the great financiers, lit-
erary men, and even some of the courtiers, met.
It was a moment of great intellectual enthusiasm. Cor-
neille was inaugurating a new era at the theatre of -the Hotel
de Bourgogne, while the Hotel de Rambouillet, the salons of
Mme. de Sabliere, Mme. de Cornuel, and the literary circle
which met at the house of M. de Lamoignon, all offered golden
opportunities for culture. Mme. de Bonneau, who considered
her niece too serious for a girl of her age, took her, even at
the age of eleven or twelve, to balls and plays. She enjoyed
the former especially, for she danced well, but the poor child
could not forget her sorrow.
" I think of death continually," she said to her governess,
*'and when every one is thinking only of amusing himself, I
say to myself : ' Should I wish to die at this moment ? ' "
She resolved to mortify herself in the midst of her gaieties,
and would wear an iron chain which she had bought with her
pocket money, and when at the play ''she shut her eyes, but
when her aunt laughed she turned towards her and laughed
also, as if she was paying attention to the piece."
Her great delight was to nurse any one who was ill in the
house, and to spend her recreation in reading pious books to
the sick. It is related how on one Feast of the Epiphany,
when every one was in the drawing-room amusing themselves,
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74 MADAME DE MiRAMION [April,
and Marie was to open the ball, she had withdrawn to assist
a servant of her father who was in his last agony.
In the seventeenth century '' cures " were already quite the
fashion, and we find Marie accompanying her aunt in 1643 to
Forges, a watering-place in Normandy. They journeyed by
slow stages, stopping at St. Germain, Nantes, and Rouen, and
everything- charmed Marie, who had never before been out of
Paris. It was, however, during this little absence that her sec-
ond sorrow came upon her in the death of her father, which
occurred too quickly for her to reach Paris in time to see him
alive? This unexpected blow deepened Marie's wish to live en-
tirely for God, and though still so young she thought of en-
tering religious life, and felt herself drawn, not for the only
time in her life, to the great Carmelite Order. Her uncle, M*
de JBonneau, however, who was devoted to Marie and did not
wish to lose ireti poiatcid out to ber bow much she could help
her brothers by remaining in the world, and this thought, and
the dread of separating from them, led her to change her views
— views which were evidently at that time only the effect of her
young and ardent zeal, for other duties awaited her.
In 1645 Marie, then 16, began to go regularly into society
.with her aunt, and her future was seriously discussed. Mile.
de Rubelle was both charming and beautiful, and had an "air
modest though proud" which drew all hearts to her. She was
tall, with a fine figure, ''a daxzliag complexion, chestnut hair,
and the most beautiful eyes in the world.'' Like those of other
beauties of the time, they were dark blue and very brilliant,
but "the gentle melancholy and exquisite kindness of her heart
often showed itself and gave them an expression truly angelic."
Marie had also every intellectual gift, and possessed a good and
solid judgment. Possibly, as she would accuse herself later, she
had rather too proud an air; but this apparent haughtiness,
which was due chiefly to her regular features, was softened by
the gentleness of her voice and the exquisite politeness of her
manners. With these advantages it is not surprising that "every-
where the brilliancy of her charms, even more than her great
wealth, attracted a crowd of young men who disputed for the
honor of obtaining her hand."
Already, however, she had noticed M. de Miramion, who
otten accompanied his mother to the parish church, St. Nicolas
des Champs, and the deference and respect which he showed
her had prepossessed Marie in his favor. When, therefore, among
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i9o6.] Madame de Miramion 75
the names suggested to her as suitors by her family she heard
that of M. de Miramion, her blushes showed her wishes, and
happier than her friend and contemporary, Mme. d'Aiguillon,
no obstacles arose to interfere with her choice. M. de Miramion
was barely twenty-seven, fine looking, with a charming char-
acter and a fortune equal to that of his bride. He was, in short,
in the parlance ^ the seventeenth century, a perfect gentleman.*
For the first time in her life Marie was perfectly happy.
She loved and was beloved, and she felt that God blessed her
happiness. Her only desire was to merit that the blessings
given to her so abundantly in this life might never interfere
with the hopes she had conceived for the world to come. She
begged M. de Miramion to allow her to live in the same pious
way as before, and spoke to him so beautifully of religion that
he admired and loved her virtues more than ever, and promised
her full liberty.
The marriage took place on April 27, 1645, ^"^^ ^ f*6w days
later Marie and her husband left the Hotel de Bonneau to go
to their new home in the house of M. de Choisy, the grand-
father of M. de Miramion. Here Marie found herself in the
midst of a very patriarchal family. M. de Choisy, long the
friend and counsellor of Henry IV. and Louis XIII., was much
honored at court, and his wife, Madeleine de Charron, was a
woman of great virtue, and the tenderest of mothers. These
good old people had never been separated from their daughters,
Mme. de Miramion and Mme. de Caumartin, and inhabited with
them a very fine house at the corner of the Rue du Temple
and the Rue Michel le Comte. Mme. de Caumartin was a widow,
and her only son and M. de Miramion had grown up together
like brothers.
Marie was received with delight by all the family. '' Every
one wanted to entertain and fete her, and for several weeks
there was nothing but presentations, suppers, and pleasures of
all sorts, of which the grandest seems to have been '' a mag-
nificent collation" given by M. de Miramion 's aunt, the Com-
tesse de Choisy, at the Palais de Luxembourg. This lady was
one of the leaders of society, and bad a brilliant salon. Cor-
neille read aloud Cinna, and Bussy de Rabutin his Maximes
*Tbe famflyof Beauharnaft was descended from Guillaume de Beauharnais, lord of
Miramion and la Chausi^, who lived, in 1380, and his son appears as a witness for Joan of Arc
in the Rehabilitation Trial. The family again occupied a prominent position in Napoleon the
First's reign, and Napoleon III. was, says M. Bonneau, related in the tenth degree to Mme.
de Miramion.
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76 MADAME DE MIRAMION [April,
d' Amour "va her ^ house, and she was the friend and correspondent
of the Qaeens of Poland and Sweden. If Marie had wished to
shinie in society, nothing would have been easier under her
aunt's p^ltronage, but she longed to lead a quiet home life, and
her husband, who had not been indifferent to the world, had
early enjoyed all it had to give, and was rather tired of its
frivolities; so that in his new happiness he was content to fol-
low his wife's wishes, while her gentle piety also soon led him
back to his religious duties. " I gave up cards, balls, and
plays,'- Mme. de Miramion writes of this time, '' which caused
great astonishment. I began a regular life. I gained over my
husband and persuaded him to live as a good Christian. In
short, we were very united and beloved by all our family, and
we never had any differences except in fun."
But, alas for the joys of this world I this happy, peaceful
life was to last for only six months. At the end of that time
M. de Miramion was siezed with violent fever and inflammation
of the lungs, and was soon in danger. He accepted death with
Christian courage and resignation, and we can imagine how
tenderly he must have bade farewell to Marie, whose whole ex^
istence seemed to be bound up in that of her husband. As he
expired she fell insensible beside him, and remained unconscious
for hours. Even when she came to herself, she seemed hardly
to be alive, so utterly was she crushed. Great anxiety was felt
abaut her, and it was only her mother-in-law's urgent entreaties
that she would remember her expected child that roused her to
accept nourishment. For months she remained ill, and was
obliged to keep her bed till the birth of her child; biit in this
time of anguish her resignation was unfaltering, and, as her
biographer says, "she felt her soul to be born anew in the love
of God, penetrated with humility and full of charity for all who
suffer."
On the '7th of March, 1646, her little girl was born. At the
sight of the child, in whose features she traced those of her
husband,' Marie's tears flowed for the first time. Thebaby was
very frail and delicate and needed all her care, but this new
duty seemed to bring her back to life, and she slowly regained
her health. Marie spent the next two years retired from the
world, "always at the foot of the altar or by the cradle of
her daughter."
During this time she passed through a danger very com-
mon to the period and, as her biographer says, greatly dreaded
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1906.] MADAME DR MiRAMION 77
by beautiful women. She had smallpox, and was in danger of
death, but her serenity remained unshaken, and seeing her
mother <*in -law in tears she only said: ''Do not weep; is a
perishable beauty and a useless life worth these tears?" To
every one's surprise she recovered, and her^eyesight and even
her beauty were spared, but the brilliancy of her complexion
was gone, which Marie did not regret. She looked .upon this
little trial as a sort of declaration of God's will, hoping thftt
the world, seeing her less beautiful, rwoukl cease to pay her
court, and leave her in peace to execute her plans for her
future perfection. Her family indeed dreaded ^that she would
again wish to become a nun, and longed .to keep her with
them, and when they thought sufficient time had elapsed they
pressed her to marry again. Many proposals were made for
her hand, some of her suitors only regretting that she was. to
rich, as they feared to be suspected of mercenary motives.
Marie was, however, quite determined never to . remarry, and
lost no opportunity of declaring her intentions;. , but she did
not dare resist the wishes of her family -by ^actually ''shutting
her door " against the persons they introduced to her. Her
humility also made her ^feel that she was unworthy to enter
religious life, and so she begged for time to decide, and mul-
tiplied her prayers and good works, hoping that Almighty
God would show her his will.
And now we come to the most surprising event in Mnie.
de Miramion's history, her abduction by Mme. de Sevign^'s
fatuous cousin, the brilliant and erratic Bussy de Jlabutm, jan
episode which curiously illustrates the manners of the time.
That a highborn lady, surrounded by numerous and powerful
relations, should be carried off by force during her drive sounds
to us incredible, and although, as we have said, not an unpre-
cedented occurrence in the seventeenth century, this special
outrage did make a great impression on contemporary history.
We will briefly relate what occurred, recalling the fact that
Bussy was, according to his own account of the affair, deceived
by friends of Mme. de Miramion into the belief that she was
not indifferent to him, but was prevented by the wishes of hei*
family from marrying outside the circle of "the Robe," from
which he concluded that his audacious attempt would not be
unwelcome to its object.
The. summer of 1648 was passed by Mme. de Miramion at
l3sy» where M.. dc Choisy had a charming country house.
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78 Madame de Miramion [April,
whither he withdrew to escape from the troubles of the Fronde*
On August 7 Marie, who had vowed a pilgrimage to lifont
Valerian after a recent illness of her child's, set out to fulfil
her promise, accompanied by her mother-in-law. The ladies
had also with them in the carriage a gentleman attendant and
two waiting women. The coachman, a young footman, and
four mounted groomr completed the party. It was a hot day,
and the leather curtains of the chariot were raised for the
sake of the fine view visible as they ascended the heights of
St. Cloud.
They had approached within a quarter of a lieue of Mont
Valerian, when the carriage was suddenly stopped by tweYity
men on horseback. Mme. de Miramion's mounted escort fled
in dismay, the footman only remaining. The coachman was
removed, and one of the strangers took his place, while two
of the cavaliers approached the windows of the carriage, in-
tending to draw down the leather curtains, and so to prevent
the ladies from seeing by what road they were to travel, but
Marie, who had not lost her presence of mind, and was silently
commending herself to God, stood up, and seizing a heavy
velvet bag which contained her prayer book, hit at the faces
and hands. of the cavaliers with it, crying out loudly for as-
sistance, while her mother-in-law got possession of a sword
of one of the assailants and wounded his arm. All this
time they were being hurried along, and when they reached
the Bois de Boulogne a fresh relay of. horses awaited them.
Marie, when she saw they were being really carried off, said
a short prayer for the grace to keep her judgment, for cour-
age to defend herself, and especially that she might not offend
God, and then kept calling out that she was Mme. de Mira-
mion and was being taken by force, and begging that her
family might be informed; but the clouds of dust concealed
her from view, and the noise of the carriage and the wind
drowned her cries.
It would take us too long to relate all the adventures of
this terrible day. Presently her captors insisted on leaving
behind the old Mme. de Miramion and one of the attendants,
only allowing Mafie to keep one of her women and the faith-
ful footman, who refused to leave her, and they tried to in-
duce her to accept food, but she resolved to eat nothing till
she should be at liberty. When the carriage came to a vil-
lage Marie would redouble her cries for help, but the cavaliers
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I906.] MADAME DE MiRAMION 79
announced that they were escorting a poor mad woman, and
her now dishevelled appearance gave color to their words.
At last towards evening the party reached the castle of
Launay, which belonged to the Grand Prior of France, Hugues
de Bussy de Rabutin, whom Mme. de Sevign^ designated as
"my uncle the pirate." The sight of this grim donjon, the
number of cavaliers assembled, and the care with which she
had been separated from her mother-in-law, filled Marie— who
was still quite ignorant of the cause of her capture — with ter-
ror. She made up her mind that she would not leave her
carriage and would spend the night there. Presently a masked
cavalier came to the carriage door and begged her very re-
spectfully to get out. This she refused to do, and asked him
if it was he who had brought her here.
*' No, Madame," he replied, " it is M. de Bussy de Rabu-
tin ; and he assured us all that he carried you o£F of your own
free will, and only in order to force your family to accord him
your hand."
''What he has told you is false, and you will see whether
I will consent," replied Marie.
'' Madame," responded the gentleman, who was de Bussy's
brother, a Knight of Malta, '' we are here two hundred gentle-
men, relations or friends of the Comte de Bussy, but if he has
deceived us, we will defend you, Madame, against him, and give
you your liberty ; only we must reason with him first. Please
get out without fear, trusting to my word, and rest in the castle.'^
The cavalier's air was so noble and trustworthy that Mme.
de Miramion believed him, and entered the house, but refused
all refreshments. Bussy then sent various influential persons to
intercede for him, and to induce her to marry him at once, for
which purpose he had a priest in the house* At last he ventured
himself into her presence; but, quite intimidated by Marie's
noble and dignified appearance, he could only fall on his knees
before her, imploring her to forgive him and to grant his suit.
" I swear," she replied, " I swear before the living God, my
Creator and yours, that I will never marry you"; and, over-
come by all she had gone through, she fainted. A doctor was
summoned, and found her so exhausted by the strain and long
fast that he feared for her life. Thoroughly alarmed at the
idea of her possible death under such circumstances in his
house, and at the new3 that six hundred men of Sens were set-
ting out to besiege him, moved also by her valor, Bussy new
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So Madame .de Miramion [April
determined toilet Mstrie depart. She was accordingly allowed
to enter « her , carriage, and consented to take two rsiw eggs
which could not, .she knew, contain any drug, and escorted by
the Knight of Malta. and two men, set out for Sens.
The escort, i;iot daring to enter, stopped at a short distance
from t|he town, and taking out the horses, left Marie and her
two servants in her carriage on the rqad. She now ^made her
way painfully to the nearest inn, where she was told that the
whole towa was in arms by order of the Queen Regent to go
to the rescue of a widow lady who had been carried off by a
grefit lord.
''H^las, that is I/' said the poor lady. Worn out with
fatigue she retired to her room, and here her brother, M. de
Rubelle, and her cousin, the Abb^ de Marsay, who had already
reached Sens, speedily joined her. She eagerly asked for news
of hermotherTin-Iaw, and found that the brave old lady had
been the means of procuring succor for her. Left in the forest
by M. de Bussy's men, Mme. de Miramion had made haste to a
village, from which she had despatched a message to Paris, and
M. de Rubelle and a good many of his friends had -reached
Sens half an hour before his sister's arrival Now, burning to
punish Bussy de Rabutin, these gentlemen proceeded to the
Chateau de Launay, but only to find that the culprit had fled.
Marie, utterly exhausted by all she had suffered, became
seriously ill, and, although her brother had her removed to
Paris for the best advice, her convalescence was long and pain-
ful. She writes thus of this time in her life: "After my ab-
duction I was sick to death, and received Extreme Unction.
However, God permitted me to recover. I pursued M. de
Bussy in the courts of justice for two years, and then I for-
gave him in God's name."
,But she had forgiven him from the first, and, when obliged
to summons him to satisfy her family, she gave her testimony
as favorably for him as she could, consistently with the truth.
After a time de Bussy's generous conduct during the Civil War,
in protecting from damage Marie's ancestral home, the Chateau
de Rubelle, helped to heal the breach, and her family ceased
to prosecute, on the condition that the Count should never see
her again. He submitted to this humiliating decision, and they
never met again till very many years had passed.
, . . (TO BE CONCLUDED.)
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THE CHURCH AND HER SAINTS.
III.
BY JAMES J. FOX, D.D.
I.
]N the early centuries, to which the greater num-
ber of the saints belong, there was not, as there
is to-day, any formal process of canonization;
nor did any official pronouncement of the Roman
Pontiff announce to the Church that a new name
had been inscribed on the celestial bead* roll. The cultus of a
saint usually appeared as a spontaneous growth of popular de-
votion ; no official act marked its first appearance above the
soil; and usually, before any authority took notice of it, it
had attained to vigorous development. In the first ages 0£
Christianity, on the death of a martyr, who, having given his
life for Christ, was believed to have passed to his heavenly
crown, the faithful gathered his relics with reverent devotion,
religiously celebrated his anniversary, and invoked his inter-
cession. When the age of persecution had closed, custom
gradually extended similar treatment to the memory of men
who had been conspicuous for saintly life, apostolic labors, or
great learning in the things of the Kingdom. Local cults were
established, usually with the approbation and active co-opera-
tion of the local clergy ; and in proportion as the fame of the
holy one spread, the devotion became more general. Great
missionaries, holy cenobites, were declared blessed, so to speak,
by popular acclamation. The supreme authority of the Church
preserved a passive attitude, except in cases of controversy or
abuses, as, for example, with regard to the Donatists in Africa ;
toleration first, followed by implicit and ultimately, by indirect
explicit approbation, was the course held by the Ecclesia do^
cens. We have but to recall the conditions of Europe in the
age that saw the advent and the conversion of the Northern
barbarians, with its ignorance, simplicity, credulity, with its
generally unsettled state of society and loose ecclesiastical dis-
cipline, to understand that episcopal supervision over the de-
you Lxxxiii.— 6
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82 The Church and Her Saints [Aprils
velopments of devotion was not rigorous enough to exclude all
possibility of legend being taken for history, and to repress
disorderly manifestations of indigenous piety, with the judicial
rigor and vigilance that, in after years, characterized the action
of Rome in this matter. Indeed, the judicial processes of later
times are but the logical result of the conditions which led
the popes to reserve the power of canonization to the Holy
See itself.
Many examples occur in which we find a bishop compelled
to exercise coercive authority to crush some local outcropping
of ill-directed piety. To take one instance from comparatively
later times, we have the case of Fair Rosamond, Henry the
Second's paramour, whose name figures in English ballads and
songs that are not at all of a hagiological complexion. As
she had been, during life, the munificent benefactress of a con-
vent near her home, the grateful inmates, confiding in the as-
surance that charity covereth a multitude of sins, buried her
in the church, and were making her tomb a centre of devout
veneration when the bishop, St. Hugh of Lincoln, put a stop^
to the practises and compelled the religious to remove the
body from its sacred resting place. But all bishops were not
as exacting as St. Hugh. In 1170, Alexander III. severely
reprimanded some bishops for having permitted the cultus of
a man whose life had been far from saintly. The Pope con-
cludes his monition with the words: ''Do not, then, for the
future presume to honor him ; since, even if miracles were
performed by him, it would be unlawful for you to do so
without the authority of the Roman See." It is interesting to-
note in passing, that here the pontiff speaks, as one exercising
an established prerogative, not as putting forth a new claim.
In fact, the popes had, long before this date, for very good
reasons, taken the right of canonization into their own hands.
That their vigilant eye was needed to counteract the mistakes
which national, diocesan, or personal attachments might easily
have perpetuated on the calendar, is a fact illustrated by a his-
tory of the causes that have failed to stand the test of judicial-
inquiry.
One example, cited by Father De Smedt, is from a late
period. During the reign of Urban VIII., the clergy of a
church in Spain forwarded a petition asking for indulgences
for the feast of St. Viar, whose body the church possessed^
properly authenticated by a monument of antiquity. The
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i9o6.] THE Church and Her Saints 83
monument was said to be a stone placed on the spot where
the martyr was buried. It bore an inscription, the greater
part of which had become obliterated ; but the important por-
tion^ the name, S. Viar, was in good preservation. Pope Ur-
ban was somewhat surprised at the strange name ; so he sent
some trained epigraphists to examine the monument. They re-
ported that the words were the remains of an inscription mak-
ing mention of a certain [Praefectu] S. Viar[um], that is, a su-
perintendant of highways, during the Roman domination of
Spain. The cultus of St. Viar did not survive. From this and
many similar occurrences, we may understand how easily de-
votion was directed to objects that had no real claim to such
honor, in times when the supreme authority had not yet as-
serted its prerogative in this matter.
The canonization of a saint, in modern times, is, then, a very
different affair from what It was in ancient days. It is a sol-
emn decree emanating from the Supreme Pontiff after a long,
rigorous, judicial investigation, involving great expense,* extend-
ing, sometimes, over two or three or four generations, in which
evidences offered for the sanctity of the person presented for
the honor, is subjected to pitiless scrutiny. The part played in
the process by the advocatus diaboli — an honorable function to
which an unsavory designation has been, playfully, attached —
is too well known to require more than a passing mention.
When theologians teach that the Church is infallible in the
canonization of saints, they limit this prerogative to such a
declaration of the Pope, or to some equivalent approbation of
an immemorial cultus.
The above considerations are, perhaps, necessary to forestall
the surprise that some persons might experience on finding that,
through the studies of such archaeologists as De Rossi, and under
the analytic criticism of historians like the Benedictine, Dom
L^clercq. the Jesuits, DeSmedt and Delehaye, and many others,
the personality behind the name of many a saint vanishes into
nonentity. It is also well to remember that, as Father Delehaye
• In his introduction to the Life of St, John Baptist de Rossi, the late Cardinal Vaughan
remarks that one of the reasons why so few secular priests have been canonized is the expense
of the process, which can be borne only by communities, or wealthy families. He mentions that
members of the Gonzaga family used to say that another canonization would make them bank-
rupt. But there has been some exaggeration on this subject. The tariff fixed by Benedict
XIV. was revised, some time ago, by Cardinal Masella, who regulated the minutest details,
even to the amounts to be given to the domestics of the cardinals. A ceremony of can-
oni^tion, M. de Boudhinon affirms, costs about 100,000 francs; and, according to another
authority, the entire expenses may be set down at about 250,000 francs.
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84 THE Church and Her Saints [April,
takes care to iterate, regarding another class of results, that the
reality of a saint is one thing, the authenticity of the stories
that have been woven around him, quite another.
We do not cease to believe in the existence and the sanc-
tity of the Apostle St. James when Dom Leclercq convinces us
that the stories about his having founded churches in Spain
are inventions of the seventh century. Nor is faith in Ireland's
apostle diminished because his latest biographer, Archbishop
Healy, shows himself somewhat sceptical regarding the story
which rekites that once when some ruffians, after stealing
and eating St. Patrick's goat, swore in the presence of the
saint that they were guiltless of the crime, they were con-
victed on the spot by ventriloquistic bleatings of the devoured
animal. Accounts concerning the origin of famous churches
may succumb to criticism without injury to the dignity of the
saints under whose invocation the edifices were raised for divine
worship; and confidence in the patron's intercession can have
a less unstable foundation in the breast of the client.
In tbe introduction to his latest instalment of his translation
of The Acts of ike Martyrs, Dom Leclercq relates an incident in
point. When De Rossi was entering upon the labors which have
thrown such floods of light upon hagiology, a prelate, afterwards
Cardinal Capalti, addressed him in these terms: ''You are too
intelligent not to know that all these old monuments which in-
spire you with such enthusiasm have no histories but legends.
Here, in Rome, at every step, our foot is upon some sacred
souvenir, but one would be imprudent to lay too much weight
on it. Fortunately the Church has taken care not to compro-
mise herself. I myself am a canon of St. Mary Major. In this
capacity every year I take part in the patronal celebration of
this church, which occurs on the fifth of August. At matins
we read a singular legend, according to which the Blessed Vir-
gin appeared to Pope Liberius and indicated to him the site of
the future basilica, promising at the same time to mark the
place by a fall of snow which would come the next day and
remain unmelted on the desired place. This legend begins, in
the office, with the words : Nonis Augusti^ quo tempore in Urbe
maximi calores esse solent. (On the nones of August, when the
heat in the city is wont to be extreme.) We have it read in
the choir, and we listen to it gravely. When we have returned
to the sacristy, there is sure to be some canon to remark, as
he mops his face: 'In all that we have just listened to there
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i9o6.] THE Church and Her Saints 8s
is only one word of truth, but it is very true : Nonis Avgvsii^
quo tempore in Urbe maximi calores esse sclent.^ Thus, you see
usage maintains a lot of old stories which nobody believes. If
you present them as true, you will pass for, not a fool, for that is
not possible, but for a man lacking scientific honesty. If you
throw them aside, there will be hypocrites to cry, scandal, and
imbeciles to believe them; then trouble for you." De Rossi
did not follow the advice of the worthy cardinal, whose pre^
diction of troubles in store for the great archaeologist were fully
realized. But our views on Christian antiquity have been al-
most revolutionized through the labors of De Rossi.
II.
Approaching the study of the part played by the writers
in the production of errors, the learned Bollandist warns his
readers that, under the term hagiographer, he does not mean
to include all the writers who have left us biographies of
saints. Among them there are many who relate what they
have seen with their eyes, and touched with their hands ; their
writings are authentic memoirs as well as works of edification.
Such men as Sulpicius Severus, Hilary of Poitiers, Fortunatus,
Eunnodius, and many others, are beyond suspicion. No less so
are many conscientious biographers of the Middle Ages and of
later times. He concentrates his attention upon those writings
which are of a factitious and conventional character, produced
at a distance from the events they relate, and without any
attestation. The greater number of them are anonymous >in
their origin, and offer no documentation or other authority for
the statements which they make.
The first question, however, that is %o be asked when sub-
mitting to criticism biographies of this kind is: What literary
form did the writer employ, or what kind of. a composition did
he mean to produce? In many instances he had no other in-
tention than to convey a grave lesson in the form of a pious
story. A numerous class of Lives and Acts are of this char-
acter. The same idea is often repeated. One favorite story of
this kind is that of the pious woman who enters ^ monastery
disguised as a man ; she is, in her monastic career, accused of
a great fault. After her death her innocence is proved by the
discovery of her sex. The heroine is called, in turn, Marina,
Pelagia, Eugenia, Euphrosyne, Theodora, Margaret, and ApoU
lonaria. In the course of time, the author's intention was lost
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86 THE Church and Her Saints [April,
sight of, and the stories became to the readers real histories of
so many saints. Sometimes, instead of inventing a narrative,
the author borrowed one from profane sources. Thus the tragic
story of GEdipus was attached to several names besides that of
St. Gregory — to an imaginary St. Albanus, a St. Ursius, and
others.
And, as we pursue this point with Father Delehaye, we
come to a passage that renders very ridiculous the emphasis
and the air of communicating a tremendous piece of informa-
tion, which Mr. White assumes when he makes his remarks
about infallibility having committed suicide when Barlaam and
Josaphat were canonized by the Roman Church. "Who,"
writes Father Delehaye, " but knows that the Life of Saints
Barlaam and Josaphat is nothing but an adaptation of the
legend of Buddha ? In the mind of the monk John, to whom
we owe it, in its Christian form, it was nothing but a pleasant,
lively tale serving as a vehicle for a moral and religious instruc-
tion." Those who afterwards accepted that story as true, includ-
ing Baronius, the compiler of the Roman Martyrology which has
Papal approval, did not canonize Buddha. They simply took a
fiction for a history ; a mistake which Father Delehaye shows to
have happened in more cases than can be counted. Yet we are
very sure that the learned critic has not ceased to believe in
the infallibility of the Pope.
But, while the hagiographer frequently intended merely a
story, he usually meant to write genuine history. We must,
however, remember that even the ancients of classic times had
a very different conception of history from what that word
stands for in the modern critical mind. They were much more
preoccupied about literary effect than about exactitude in the
relation of facts and detail. They aimed at interesting and
pleasing the readers, with a general effect, rather than re-
cording information strictly accurate in detail. They invented
speeches for notable personages, and felt they had conceded
all that was demanded by veracity when the speech was such
as the man might have delivered on a given occasion. The
mediaeval hagiologist was not, certainly, more critical in hiis
methods than the classic historian. He accepted all materials
that lay to his hand, without much preoccupation concerning
their veracity or authenticity, provided they were edifying*
and redounded to the glory of the saint. When he had not
sufficient data to construct a full- length, impressive picture, he
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f9o6.] THE Church and her Saints 87
felt no scruple in supplementing, from his own imagination,
the poverty of his sources. And, besides, the simple temper
of these half-barbarous clerks lacked the first quality required
for the exercise of the critical art, even in the lowest degree*
They were not distrustful ; they did not suspect that a written
testimony might be mendacious, and that a plausible story might
not be true. In the Middle Ages the confusion between legend
and history was perpetual ; history meant whatever was related,
whatever one read in books.
Just as the panegyrist feels that it is no pare of his duty
to dwell upon the faults or failures of his man, so, for the
hagiologist, it was axiomatic that the eulogy of a saint should
not reflect the slightest trace of blame. '* There is," says
Father Delehaye, '' a school of hagiographers who would fain
expunge from the Gospels the denial of St. Peter, lest the au-
reole of the first of Apostles might be tarnished." Thus, owing
to their imperfect conception of history, the writers of the
Middle Ages, in all good faith, set down as fact many things
which were not true. Besides, they knew that their writings
would not be accepted by their contemporaries as articles of
faith ; " hence the indignant denunciation, so frequent with them»
of those who will refuse to believe what they say. It betrays
the man whose conscience is not at ease."
So much for the temper of mind in which the biographer
approached his task. What about the materials that he found
provided for him ? In the first place, he rarely tells us any-
thing about the sources whence he drew his knowledge ; often
he displays a certain coquetry in hiding the origins of his
knowledge. This data were to be found in annals, chronicles,
historical inscriptions, and legends. But, the Bollandist ob-
serves, it would be an error to suppose that a penury of sources
proved any set-back to the hagiographer ; or that they who
furnished a generous supply of information to the reader were
themselves well informed. Dwelling on The Acts of the Martyrs^
he observes that it is a common error to believe that there
existed, in Rome, during the persecutions, a body of notaries
whose duty it was to collect and complete Jhe Acts of the
Martyrs. When, in the fourth century, Pope Damasus placed
his famous inscriptions on the martyrs' tombs, the history of
the greater number of these was unknown. But, centuries
afterwards, with these inscriptions as texts, hagiographers com-
posed long, circumstantial histories of the trial, condemnation,
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88 THE Church and Her Saints [April,
torture, and execution of many a martyr. After the inscrip-
tions of Pope Damasus^ another source of inspiration was
paintings, sculptures, mosaics, and other works of art. A fa-
mous panegyric of St. Euphemia is nothing more than a de-
scription of a series of frescoes. And many a strange historyi
we are told, owes its origin to some artistic fancy, or to some
erroneous interpretation of an object of art. The celebrated
St. Libcrta, or Wilgefortis, represented as a bearded woman,
nailed to a cross, sprang from a legend inspired by a crucifix
with a tunic on the figure.
Misinterpretations of texts and inscriptions were prolific
sources of errors. In the genuine passio of St. Fructuosus,
written in Latin, the judge asks the martyr: "Are you a
bishop ? " "I am," is the reply. To which the judge sarcas-
tically retorts: "You were" (fuisti). A copyist mistook /i/w/i
for fustibus, and inflicted a new torment on the saint, who, he
declared, was beaten with cudgels.
The original acts of St. Macrina relate that, in the amphi-
theatre, a lion having sprung upon her, sniffed her and with-
drew. The mediaeval author of a hymn in the saint's honor,
read adoratus for odaratus^ and sings that the beast which came
to kill remained to worship. There fall, on the same day, two
feasts, that of St. Babylas and three children, and that of an-
other St. Babylas with her eighty -four companions; the histories
of the two groups differing only a little in detail. According
to Father Delehaye, the origin of this duplication is an initial
pair of consonants that was taken for a numeral. The mistake
of the Spanish clergy relative to St. Viar has a parallel in that
which established the cultus of the eighty- three soldier martyrs,
by taking the abbreviation for the word mile, mil.^ to stand
for milites^ soldiers. The multiplication of the companions of
St. Babylas resembles the confusion which, Dom Leclercq tells
us, happened with regard to Sts. Ursula and Undecimilla. The
latter proper name was mistaken for undecim millia^ and gave
rise to the legend of St. Ursula and her eleven thousand
virgins.
The more marvelous the story was, the more assured was
its reception and popularity in those uncritical times. " It is,"
says our author, " a fact established by a comparison of earlier
documents and subsequent histories founded on them, that be-
tween a purely historical document and a recast of the same,
ornamented with imaginative developments, and stuffed with
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i9o6.] THE Church and Her Saints 89
fables, the public of the Middle Ages never hesitated. Almost
invariably it is the less simple version that is presented in
most manuscripts, and often, the original story survives in but
a single exemplar. The word Sancius, that in earlier times was
applied as a term of courtesy to bishops, just as we use His
Grace now, in the case of archbishops, often figured in an epitaph.
The mediaeval writers understood the word in its more special
sense; and ''errors of this kind have secured to more than
one obscure person the honor of popular canonization."
The tendency of the biographer to enlarge on his data will
be sufficiently illustrated by two cases which Father Delehaye
draws from times comparatively recent. When St. Bernard was
preaching the crusade, in the neighborhood of Constance, he
was insulted by an archer. As St. Bernard was advancing to
impose hands on the sick, the soldier fell insensible on the
floor, and remained there some time, unconscious. Alexander
of Cologne, the narrator, adds: ''I was quite close to him
when he fell. We called the abbot, and the unfortunate soldier
could not rise till Bernard reached him, said a prayer, and
helped him to his feet." But a century later, Herbert, the
author of a collection of the miracles of St. Bernard, Conrad,
author of the Exordium^ and Cesarius, of Heisterback, affirm that
the soldier was dead, and that St. Bernard restored him to
life.
The original biographer of St. Elizabeth of Hungary relates
that one day she took in a poor little leper, and placed him
in her own bed. Her husband, hearing of the affair, rushed
furiously into the room, and tore the covering off the bed.
But then, says the biographer, '' the Most High opened the eyes
of his soul to see in the leper the figure of Christ crucified."
This did not satisfy modern biographers, observes Father Dele-
haye, who record that in the place where the boy had been,
the husband saw a great bleeding figure of Christ crucified.
Frequently the details at the disposal of the hagiographer
were extremely scanty. Tradition furnished him with the saint's
name, his quality of martyr or confessor. He knew that some
church was dedicated to him ; yet an edifying life of decent
proportions was wanted. Then the hagiographer very frequent-
ly fell back upon conventional conceptions of the appropriate.
There were stock schemata, only requiring a name to be fitted
to them. Was the demand for a martyr's life ? The approved
plan was ready to hand. First comes a description, more or
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90 THE Church and Her Saints [April,
less detailed, of the persecution. The Christians are sought out
everywhere; a great number fall into the hands of the soldiers;
among them, the hero of the tale. He is arrested and thrown
into prison. Brought before the judge, he confesses his faith.
A dialogue ensues between him and the judge. He, frequently,
delivers an eloquent discourse on the beauty of Christianity and
the hideousness ot paganism. These speeches are, ^ays Father
Delehaye, absolutely devoid of any vraisemblance^ and would
be more appropriately placed in the mouth of a preacher than
on the lips of a prisoner in presence of a peremptory tribunal.
The triumphant eloquence of the victim is set in high relief
by the ignorance of the judge; unless, as sometimes occurs,
the judge is credited with enough knowledge of Christianity to
provide the martyr with an occasion to make some learned re-
plies to arguments against the faith. The whole spirit of the
story, with its elaborate, false rhetoric, our critic declares to
be in glaring contrast with the simple dignity and brevity that
characterize the genuine acts. The tortures, too, are piled up
with all the profusion of a riotous imagination, without any at-
tention to the limits of human endurance; for divine power is
made to intervene, to prevent the martyr from succumbing, so
that the biographer may enumerate all the sufferings that re-
collections of his readings can suggest.
The particular quality or profession of a confessor is nicely
calculated. There must be a different spiritual cast in the
life of a bishop from that which is proper in the case of a
monk. The naive piety of the Middle Ages could not believe
that a man virtuous enough to adorn the episcopate could seek
or covet the honor. Hence in writing a bishop's life: "It is
the correct thing to represent him as bowing his shoulders to
the episcopate only when constrained by obedience; for if he
does not resist, it is clear that he thinks himself fit for the
office, and then, how can he be proposed as a model of humil-
ity ? " Is the personage a monk ? '' Then he must be con-
spicuous for all the virtues proper to his state ; and the writer
runs no great risk in describing his fasts and vigils; his assi-
duity in prayer and study. And, as it is especially by mira-
cles that God manifests the merits of his servants, one may
take it for granted that the saint, whoever he is, has cured
the blind, made paralytics walk, expelled demons, and so forth,
and so forth."
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i9o6.] THE Church and Her Saints 91
In his endeavor to supply the deficiencies of tradition, the
biographer did not always resort to his imagination. Fre-
quently he borrowed, frankly and boldly, from whatever stores
contained materials suitable to his purpose. Sometimes he was
eclectic in his methods, culling and gleaning over a wide field.
Thus the Life of St. Vincent Magdelaire, under Father Dele-
haye's analysis, turns out to be a sort of mosaic, composed of
various pieces appropriated from a dozen different biographies.
At other times hagiography was enriched with a new volume
by the simple process of substituting a new name for an old
one. " Thus, for example, the passio of St. Martina is literally
that of St. Tatiana; St. Castissima has the same acts as St.
Euphrosyne; while those of St. Caprias belong to St. Sym-
phorianus. The group Florentinus and Julianus is identical
with the history of Sts. Secundinus, Marcellianus, and Veranus."
The list of such duplications is so long that the author pro-
poses some day to publish it. The catalogue, he says, will em-
brace many pieces of much earlier date than the Middle Ages.
For, during the fourth century, in Italy, and especially in
Rome, foreign legends and histories were appropriated to the
glorification of national saints. Thus i\\^ passio of St. Laurence,
even to its very details, is borrowed from that of the martyrs
of Phrygia, related by Socrates and Sozomen; while that of
St. Cassianus differs not a whit from that of St. Mark of
Arethusa. The martyrdom of St. Eutychius, as reported by
Pope Damasus, is neither more nor less than a reproduction
of the martyrdom of St. Lucian ; and the same pope's version
of the passion of St. Agnes has incontestable resemblances
with that of St. Eulalia. We need not mention several in-
stances cited by the author, of adaptation of profane stories.
Were the biographer of a saint to resort to such methods
as these, to-day, he would deserve and certainly meet with
severe condemnation. But, before applying our standards of
literary and historical probity to writers of those ages, besides
taking into account the different conceptions of history that
then prevailed, we must also remember that the hagiographers
of that day had no polemical purpose. Then in Christendom
there was but one religion. They were not guilty of deliber-
ate deceit in order to sustain belief in the supernatural against
the attacks of incredulity. Then faith~ was so strong that it
overflowed into legend and Aberglaube. The hagiographer's
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92 The Church and Her Saints [April.
raison (Titre was not to stimulate a feeble faith, but to answer
the demands of a robust, omnivorous appetite. A broadminded
critic will reserve his censure for those comparatively rare
cases of deliberate forgeries executed to further ambitions, cor-
porate or personal, such as prompted the monk of Glastonbury,
who re-cast the legend of Joseph of Arimathea, and the in-
ventors of the apostolic legends associated with some French
sees.. The latter our Belgian Bollandist, less exposed to the
reprisals of Gallic prejudices than was the author of LApos*
toliciU des £glises de France^ contemptuously dismisses with
the remark: ''We turn away from them in disgust, without
ceasing to admire the simplicity of their dupes."
Summarizing the practical fruits of his study, the Bollandist
points out the one most precious for the Catholic apologist,
and for all who come in contact with non-Catholic writings
that make argument against the Church out of the unhistorical
character of hagiographic literature. Briefly stated it is, that
'' The hagiographic legends of antiquity belong, incontestably,
to popular literature. Not only do they carry no official stamp,
but even what we know of their origin and formation gives us
no guarantee of their historic value. The faithful found in them
matter for edification. And their concern for them extended
no further." To place an exaggerated confidence in all saints*
biographies indiscriminately is a mistake. '' Some seem to ex-
tend to the pious biographer something of the respect which
we owe to the saints themselves, and this phrase so often re-
peated: We read in the Lives of the Saints, by speakers who
take no care to specify the name of the narrator, shows suffi-
ciently that many seem to consider all hagiographers as incom-
parable historians. Is there any need to dilate upon the in-
jury done to the saints by citing, as their own proper words,
the discourses which some obscure scribe has put into their
mouth after having painfully evolved it from the depths of his
own mediocre intelligence ? "
We may hope that an acquaintance, even at second hand,
with this work, in which Christian faith and reverence are
shown to be perfectly consistent with the most exact scientific
spirit, may help to remove some of our readers out of the
class which '' every day aggravates the misunderstandings be-
tween history and poesy, and renders more acute the conflict
between science and piety."
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CATHOLIC TEACHERS AND EDUCATIONAL PROGRESS.
BY THOMAS EDWARD SHIELDS. Ph.D.
is admitted on all sides that our Catholic schools
are conducted by teachers who are filled with
zeal and devotion for their work. It is frequently
pointed out that teaching is to them the work
of a lifetime, a vocation; whereas, for too many
of the public school teachers it is merely a means of earning
a livelihood during the years that intervene between school-
days and marriage, or, in the case of men teachers, a means
of support during the years of preparation for one of the learned
professions. Love of God and zeal for the salvation of souls
are the motives of the one ; whereas, financial compensation and
success in this world are said to be the motives of the other.
Nevertheless, it is sometimes assumed that our Catholic teach-
ers are so filled with piety and religion, that their minds are
so set on the things of the next world, that they become in-
different to the achievements of science and to success in this
world. It is even asserted, at times, that they are wedded to
traditional methods and are apathetic towards educational prog-
ress.
Our teaching communities in many ways manifest their
anxiety to keep abreast of the times. It is to be noted, in the
first place, that they do not conduct our schools in the inter*
est of book companies or according to any one rigid system.
The teachers and the children are not being exploited in the
interests of any machine. The curricula of these schools are
arranged to meet the actual needs of the pupils who come to
them.
Our teaching communities are so modest, and they do their
work so quietly, that the public at large is not aware of the
splendid preparation that many of these teachers receive, nor
does it sufficiently appreciate how anxiously the communities
are striving to perfect their members in the duties of their
sublime vocation as teachers.
Many of the teaching orders have training schools in their
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94 Catholic Teachers [Aprils
novitiates. The superiors realize the importance of suitable
preparation for all those who are to engage in the work of
teaching, and they would be glad to have all the members of
their communities who are destined for this work complete a
systematic course of study during their novitiate and the early
years of their religious profession.
It is true that under existing circumstances all these young
religious cannot be kept in the training school long enough to
complete the entire course. It frequently happens that prom-
ising classes, doing excellent work, are thinned out as a result
of urgent calls from the various schools conducted by the com*
munity. The superiors are obliged, under the stress of cir-
cumstances, to send out many of these young normal students
as assistant teachers to share burdens that have grown too
heavy, or to take entire charge of classes whose teachers have
given out under the strain of overwork. But the remedy for
this state of affairs is obvious. If more of our competent
young men and women were encouraged to enter the teaching
orders, the novitiate training schools would, in a few years,
have large classes going through uninterrupted courses of study
under competent and successful instructors.
Our teaching orders look hopefully to this good time; mean-
while they do all that is possible to render the time spent in
the novitiate profitable, and to supply for the deficiencies in
those who have been compelled to leave the novitiate training
school before completing the regular course. The ablest teach-
ers in the community are employed in the training schools,,
and the best available talent is brought in at times from nor-
mal schools, colleges, or universities to give courses of lectures
on special topics, and both the teachers and the pupils in these
schools avail themselves, whenever feasible, of the advantages
offered by correspondence courses.
Some of the candidates of the teaching communities have
taught with marked success in the public schools, while many
others are encouraged to take courses in normal schools or
universities before entering the order. These members help to •
keep the communities in touch with the methods employed in
our public school system.
The professional training of our religious teachers does not
end when they leave the novitiate training school. In many
communities all the teachers give from two to four hours a
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I906.] EDUCATIONAL PROGRESS 95
day to the preparation of their class work, and they devote
practically all of Saturday and Sunday to the reading and
study that their school work requires. Every evening teachers
of more experience help the younger teachers in the prepara-
tion of their school work. After this has been done, the teach-
ers assemble for model lessons, prepared by the supervisors or
under their direction. The teachers submit their school work
to the superiors and to one another for criticism ; they expose
their difficulties, ask advice, and discuss principles and meth-
ods of education. There are regular Saturday classes for the
younger teachers, who in this way follow, as far as possible,
the courses of instruction that would have been given to them
had they been able to remain longer in the training school.
They are required to pass examinations at stated periods. In
many instances the young teachers are required to forecast on
Saturday their work for the coming week, and to submit their
plans to the principal of the school or to the prefect of studies.
In many dioceses the parochial schools are visited regularly
by ecclesiastical supervisors, but in addition to this they are
also visited by the supervisor of the order to which the teach-
ers belong. The supervisor spends several days in each school-
room, while the teacher in charge gives a lesson in every
branch which he or she is expected to teach. Besides giving
private and general criticism of this work, the supervisor gives
model lessons at the evening assembly of the community.
Much of this work is rendered possible by the fact that these
teachers live in community, whereas the public school teacher
returns to her home after school hours, where she is isolated
from the other teachers, with whom she has no intercourse, ex-
cept during school hours and during occasional assemblies at
stated intervals. How many teachers in the public schools
find it possible to do any such work as that here outlined ?
Much of their time is consumed in the home duties, shopping
tours, social calls, and amusements that fill up their free time
and their holidays.
But our teaching communities do much more than this for
their teachers. They reach out beyond the resources of their
own community for suggestions and for help. For example:
A group of teachers from every Catholic school in the Arch-
diocese of Philadelphia, except two whose situation renders
them inaccessible, assemble every Saturday morning during the
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96 Catholic Teachers [April,
school year in the Catholic High School to attend lectures on
education. The course this year is on the psychology of edu-
cation. Thirteen different teaching orders are represented at
these lectures; the average attendance is about five hundred.
During the first part of the present school year five hun-
dred teachers from sixty-five of the largest schools in the Arch*
diocese of New York assembled on Saturday afternoons in St.
Stephen's Hall to attend a course of lectures on the same sub-
ject. Four or five hundred teachers from the various schools
in the diocese of Newark are at present attending a course of
lectures on the psychology of education on Saturday after-
noons in Cathedral Hall, Newark. These three courses are
given by a professor of the Catholic University. At various
times during the year the teachers of the Catholic schools in
Baltimore and Washington assemble for similar lectures. The
teachers in many other cities are doing similar work, but they
find it difficult at times to secure competent lecturers. In vil-
lages and country places, and wherever the Catholic schools
are scattered, there is, of course, an additional difficulty in as-
sembling the teachers for lectures during the school year.
The summer vacation is for the teaching communities a
time of study. The younger teachers plan, or have planned
for them, the courses of study which they must pursue either
in private or in the regular classes that are formed for teach-
ers in the novitiate training schools or in the summer schools.
There is a very great variety in these summer schools.
Some orders hold them in several of the larger convents which
are conveniently located. The best teachers in the order and, at
times, professors from normal schools, colleges, or universities
give courses extending through six or eight weeks. Last
summer one order in the East held six such summer schools
besides their novitiate school. Subjects suited to the needs of
elementary and grammar grade teachers, academy and high
school teachers, and instructors of music and drawing were
treated, special attention being given in each of these cases to
methods of teaching.
In some dioceses a different plan is followed. In Los An-
geles the teachers of the various communities assemble at Santa
Monica for .summer school work, which is continued for sev-
eral weeks. The Bishop presides at all the sessions, gives
regular lectures, and takes part in the work of the school.
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I906.^ EDUCATIONAL PROGRESS 97
Last summer two professolrs from the Catholic University gave
daily lectures throughout the entire session of the summer
school. The work of tht Bishop atid these professors was
supplemented by other lecturers of note. Last summer the
Archdiocese of Portland adopted a similar plan. It held the
first session of its annual summer school during the latter part
of July. This was attended by representatives of all the teach-
ing communities in the Archdiocese. A professor from the
Catholic University gave twelve lectures on the psychology of
education, and several other courses were given on special
methods, on the teaching of music, etc.
Work of this kind is very general throughout the country.
Where competent Catholic instructors are not available, pro-
fessors from non-Catholic normal schools and universities are
called in to give lecture courses. And where the Catholic
teachers are unable to have summer schools of their own, they
frequently take advantage of the summer school courses given
to teachers in the universities.
Another evidence of the eagerness with which the teachef-s
of our Catholic schools reach out for everything that seems to
promise help or improvement in methods of teaching is to be
found in the correspondence movement. During the past few
years teachers in many of our communities hiave availed them-
selves of the correspondence courses offered by several of .the
non-Catholic universities.
A year ago a correspondence course in the psychology of
education was offered by one of the professors of the Catholic
University. Notice of this fact was sent to a few communities
who were known to be interested in this line of work. Inside
of one month the number of applications sent in was so great
that it was found unadvisable to deal with individual pupils.
The correspondents were accordingly arranged in classes, of
which there are at present some two hundred, numbering about
four thousand teachers. These represent thirty-three different
teaching orders and all grades of institutions. The teachers
in parochial schools, high schools, academies, colleges, and the
teachers and pupils of the novitiate training schools in all
parts of the country are taking this course. Much of the work
done by these classes is of a very high 'order.
It is, indeed, a matter of encourageiheht to all who are In-
terested in our Catholfc schools to find our teaching communi-
VOIm lxxxiii.— 7
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98 Catholic Teachers [Aprils
ties so eager to improve their methods^ and so ready to accept
suggestions. While these communities have their own tradi-
tions, growing out of successful work in the past, and their
own methods, which have the sanction of long experience,
they are not on this account unwilling to move forward. They
go beyond their own order to the Catholic University and to
all other available Catholic sources for suggestions and for help.
They do not even confine themselves to this. While they
themselves are intensely Catholic, and while the work of their
schools is distinctively Catholic, they do not hesitate to call in
prominent non-Catholic authorities on educational subjects for
consultation and for lectures, and -tn ^many cases members of
these communities take courses of instruction in non-Catholic
universities.
Within the last few years there has grown up in our pub-
lic school system a widespread movement to secure a closer
co-ordination of the schools of various grades. The high
schools are now very generally accredited to the universities.
In this way the universities exercise a certain supervision over
the general standing, the curricula, and methods of the high
schools; while on the other hand the graduates of the high
8ch )ols pass into the universities without examination. Many
of our own Catholic high schools, academies, and preparatory
colleges have found it advisable to establish similar relations
with the neighboring universities.
The willingness of our Catholic teachers to look for help
beyond their own order, or even outsrde the Catholic Church
and her institutions, must not be taken as evidence of the sur-
lender of principle, nor must it be taken to mean an aban-
donment of anything which these teachers consider essential;
nor does it mean an express desire on the part of our schools
or of our teaching communities to coalesce with non- Catholic
systems of education. What it does prove is the earnest de-
sire of our teachers to do their own work better; the desire
that their graduates shall be worthy competitors in every sphere
of life with the graduates of other institutions. It also proves
their broad-mindedness and their eagerness to avail themselves
of whatever is best in the recent developments of science.
The Catholic schools of this country have grown up during
the past century under difficulties that to any but heroic souls
would have proved insuperable.^ A Catholic population, poor
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I906.] EDUCATIONAL PROGRESS 99
in this world's goods, poured in from all parts of Europe, and
spread out over the vast territory of the United States, ming*^
ling everywhere with a far more numerous non-Catholic popu-
lation. These people had to build their homes, to organize
congregations, to erect churches, and to found and support in-
stitutions for the care of the aged and the helpless, the waif,
the orphan, and the foundling. They had to do their part in
building up a public school system and to bear their full share
of the burden of its support.
When the teaching of morality and religion was banished
from the public schools, it would have been comparatively
easy for our Catholic people to have their children taught
these subjects in the home and in the Sunday-School, but in-
stead, out of their scanty means, they built up a vast system
of Catholic schools. Nor were these large contributions out
of slender resources their greatest sacrifice; multitudes of the
brightest and best of their children relinquished the world,
with all its tempting prospects, and devoted their lives to the
work of Catholic education, which they have carried on in the
face of many great hardships, springing from poverty and in-
sufficient numbers.
The explanation of all this is not to be found in the as-
sumption of a hostile attitude on the part of Catholics towards
educational progress. Such an attitude, as we have seen, does
not exist, and, even if it did exist, it would not prove an ade-
quate cause for the esristence of our Catholic schools.
Less than half a century ago it was deemed expedient, on
account of the conflicting religious tenets of the children, to
banish the teaching of religion and morality from our public
schools. The results of this experiment are now filling the
minds of thoughtful people with alarm. Men and won^en in
various parts of the country are organizing in the hope of
finding some way to introduce the teaching of religion and
morality into our public schools. They are slowly coming to
a realization of a truth which Catholics have always main-
tained.
The deep-seated and ineradicable conviction of Catholics that
the teaching of religion and morality cannot, without disaster,
be separated from the teaching of other branches of knowledge,
has created and maintained our Catholic schools. Catholics, no
less than others, welcome every advance in- knowledge, every
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loo Catholic Teachers [April,
development in science, and every improvement in educational
methods. All these things enlarge and enrich the child's in-
heritance, but they do not alter our convictions concerning the
unitary nature of mental processes and the supreme value of the
teaching of religion and morality.
Each ne\¥ truth that is developed in the child's conscious-
ness, if it is to minister to its well-being, must be assimilated
to that body of truth which has God and immortality for its ap-
perception centres. The teachings of religion and morality can-
not be successfully added during one hour of the day or one
day of the week to an education that is organized without
reference to these fundamental truths. Religion and J morality,
if they are to be vital forces in man's life, must constitute the
mental atmosphere in which the mind and the heart of the
child develop.
The builders of our Catholic schools have worked wonders
in the past. The building and equipment of many thousand
schools constitute an enduring monument to their zeal and self-
sacrifice in the cause of Catholic education. Our teaching com-
munities have made for themselves a glorious record of prog-
ress in the face of incredible difficulties. In spite of slender
means and limited numbers, they have not contented themselves
with mere routine teaching, but have eagerly reached out for
everything that seemed to promise help or advancement. Every
available hour outside the schoolroom has been devoted to self-
improvement, that their duties as teachers may be more wor-
thily discharged.
But our teachers are not willing to rest on their laurels.
They know well that the future is full of difficulty. The gen-
eral decay of religious belief outside the Church, the unsettled
economic conditions of the country, and the growing social un-
rest, make it clear to them that the need of Catholic education
in the future will be even greater than it has been in the past.
They realize, too, that if they are to continue to compete suc-
cessfully with the public school system, the Catholic school
system must be rounded out and completed by the development
of high schools, colleges, and norma] schools, and by a closer
c6-ordination of our schools oif various grades, and above all
that we must have a Catholic pedagogical literature in English.
The Catholic Church is the richest storehouse in th^ world 6\
materials for the history of education, and her drganic
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I906.] EDUCATIONAL PROGRESS lOI
teaching is incomparably .the hiost perfect embodiment of the
principles of education. The rich materials in these sources
should be placed within the reach of the splendid army of
teachers in our Catholic schools. To non- Catholics also, who
appreciate the lessons of history, every •contribution in this line
should be welcome. In proportion as the past is more thoroughly
understood, educators will come to realize, not only that the
Church has been at all times the patron of learning, but that
she has exerted a wholesome influence upon the practice and
theory of education. There is now a fair prospect of develop-
ing a Catholic educational literature which shall deal with actual
problems. The reports of the Catholic Educational Association
show that our teachers take the keenest interest in ^11 matters
connected with the work of the schools. In fact, it is a hope-
ful sign — this annual gathering of representatives pf our semi-
naries, colleges, and parochial schools. It means more united
effort and more thorough co-ordination of our forces. It en-
courages discussion, and it brings about an exchange of views
which must be beneficial to all our institutions. Thie iime for
sporadic or scattering endeavor is past. The conunon purpose
.that binds together our Catholic teachers, and makes the strength
of our Catholic system, is one with that for which the Church
was founded. It determines the attitude of our teachers toward
educational progress, and it enables them to discriminate real
advance from mere innovation. In their judgment, true progress
is that which builds upon the foundations of the past a struc-
ture that is able, in its breadth and strength, to meet the needs
of the future.
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flew 1BdoH6»^
Very recently Professor Bury
LIFE OF ST. PATRICK. drew art able sketch of St. Pat-
By Bishop Healy. rick, as seen from without; now
Dr. Healy gives us, from an in-
side standpoint, a copious and exhaustive history of Ireland's
Apostle. The present work,* containing over seven hundred
and fifty good-sized pages, embodies everything of value that
is known, or probably ever will be known, on the subject. Its
chief excellence is the wealth of topographical lore which the
learned author has brought to his task. His knowledge of the
geography of ancient and modern Ireland has enabled him to
throw light upon many points that the obscurities, and, in
some instances, the conflicting testimony, of the ancient texts,
have shrouded in darkness. The narrative of St. Patrick's
journeyings is greatly enlivened by the Archbishop's identifi-
cation of the various places and landmarks in the modern no-
menclature.
An introductory chapter is devoted to the recital, accom-
panied with a critical valuation, of the sources and authorities,
which the author divides into three groups: the ancient, that
antedate the Norman invasion; the mediaeval, which include
all that is to be found up to the beginning of the sixteenth
century; and the modern, chief among which are the works of
Colgan and of Usher. He relies, however, chiefly upon the
ancient, for, he observes, these authorities, **i{ credulous in
things supernatural, had no motive but to write the truth, so
far as it was known to them, for the instruction and edifica-
tion of posterity." There was then only one Church, and they
could have had no motive in representing St. Patrick to be
anything else than what he was known to them — a great and
successful Christian missionary of the Catholic Church. One
of Archbishop Healy 's critics reproaches him for reproducing
in his work the numerous miraculous narratives of the early
writings: ''For Dr. Healy, almost as much as for Muirchu or
the other compilers of Patrician legends, the Apostle walks
hidden in a cloud of miracles." The same critic says : ''When
we find him even insisting that a personage mentioned once,
and once only, by Patrick as ' a man named Victoricus ' must
♦ TAi Lift and Writings of St. Patrick, With Appendices, etc. By the Most Rev. Dr.
Healy, Archbishop of Tuam. Dublin : Gill & Co. ; New York : Benziger Brothers.
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i9o6.] NEW Books 103
have been the saint's guardian angel, and quoting the Book of
Tobit to justify the perfect reasonableness of this supposition ;
or citing the existence, at Gloon Patrick, of a stone with a
mark in it, said to be the impression of Patrick's knee, as clear
evidence that the saint was once in the locality, we have no
difficulty in settling the category to which this work, as a
whole, belongs. It is hagiogjaphy, not history."
The archbishop, however, has foreseen such strictures, and
furnished a sujffieient answer. Observing that the ancient Acts
are, in the main, trustworthy, he adds: ''Those who do not
like miracles can pass them over; but th6 ancient writers be-
lieved in them, and even when purely imaginary these miracu-
lous stories have an historical and critical value of their own."
And : '' Concerning the miracles related in most of the Lives
the reader will form his own judgment. Some of the stories
are, in our opinion, of their own nature, incredible \ others are
ridiculous; and several are clearly inconsistent with Patrick's
own statements in the Conjession. But we cannot reject a
story merely because it is miraculous. The Confession itself
records several miracles, and we are by no means prepared to
say that St. Patrick was either a deceived or a deceiver." It
is quite true that Dr. Healy is a hagiologist — he writes pri-
marily for the purpose of edification. But to assume that ha-
giology and history are necessarily in sharp antithesis is gra-
tuitous.
Like Professor Bury, the archbishop rejects the opinion
that St. Patrick was consecrated in Rome by Pope Celestine.
He was consecrated by a prelate named Amator or Amatus,
in a place variously called Eboria, Euboria, or Ebmoria, which
cannot now be clearly identified. He disagrees with the Ox-
ford professor on the question of Patrick's birthplace, giving
what seems to be conclusive evidence in favor of Dumbarton.
Doubtless, as a result of the present revival of Celtic, to-
gether with the immense attention that is now directed to the
study of every branch of early Christianity, a more scientific
study of the conversion of Ireland will some day appear than the
one which the learned Archbishop has produced. But there is
no reason to expect that any subsequent work will supplant
this Life with those who will wish to learn all about the
Apostle of Ireland, not in the interests of dry scholarship, but
from love of faith and country.
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I.P4 NJSIV BOOK? [April,
. , The AbW Fouard's. work on St.
SAINT JOH|f. John,* which unhappily the dis-
By Al?be Fpt^ard,. tinguishcd author did not live to
see published, is marked by a not-
able departure {rom, the previous volumes of the same pen.' It
is preoccupied with, cpntroversy. Not that it is not chara<;ter-
ized by a tone of (i^evotion and edification. The Abb^ Fouard's
jPi^pie is enough to assure us of that. But, to a far greater de-
gree than any other of this learned student's works, it is taken
up with certain gi:ave, c^itipal problems which are now agitating,
not only non- Catholic, but Catholic biblical scholars. This new
feature of the Fouard series we incline to regret; for we are
obliged to say that, the venture which this volume makes into
the heated arena pf polemics has not an entirely successful
issue. The case which the author makes out for the Johannine
authorship of the Fourth Gospel is not thoroughly satisfactory
by any means. It would have been better either to have given
a more exhaustive, study of the question, or to have quite
omitted the examination of it.. The capital points for instance,
of the trustworthiness of Irenaeus' testimony is despatched with
a, stroke of the pen. And surely every one who has read the
modern assaults against the value of the Irenaean witness, nay,
even every one who has ever studiously gone through the chap-
ters of the Adversus Hareses itself, will feel uneasy at so sum-
mary a treatment of a prime factor in the momentous Johan-
nine dispute. Then we are given hardly a reference to the
equally important problem of John the Elder ; no notice is taken
of the difficulties attending an Ephesine residence of the Apostle
John ; and we are not warned against attributing too much
value to the apparently legendary story of John's immersion in
the caldfon pf l;>»urning oil. Moreover, in the chapters given
to the Apocalypse, we discover no sign or mention of the
latest critical acUyity respecting that mysterious composition.
Not that we have the slightest fault to find with any book which
interprets the Apocalypse piously and peacefully; but since
this book aim^^t being critical, we have grounds for submit-
ting it to oritical standards. And finally, we must express our
regret that here and. there a display of temper is manifested
which tends (Jepid^dly to lower the dignity of the book. It is
true, many men w.ho depart from traditional views are led by
* Saint Jahn and the Close of the Apostolic Age. By the Abbe Constant Fouard. New
York: Longmans, Green & Co. ^
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I906J NEW Boohs ipS
an unwholesome affection for novelty, and are animated by pre-
judice and self-conceit. But not all critical students are of this
character; and frequently it happens that nothing short of an
imperative dictate of conscience obliges a man to sympathize
with opinions which depart from the venerable heritage of the
schools., Fortunately, the rather harsh expressions which this
book applies to such men, are not numerous. It is too bad
that there should be even one.
In thus animadverting upon the Abb^ Fouard's last work,
we. would not wish to imply that it does not possess the char-
acteristic good qualities of its pious and able author. Its pages
give a ^vid description of the apostolic church; they enter
with devout sympathy into the Christian life of that early time;
and they leave with the reader a fresh and plear impression
of those old days of primitive simplicity and feryor. It is a
work which every one may take proiit and pleasure in reading.
This is an attractive title ; and those
DARWINISM AND EVO- whom it may draw to examine the
LUTION. little book that bears it* will not
By Muckermann, S.J. be disappointed. The author's pur-
pose is " to offer to the educated
Catholic public, and especially to Catholic students, a clear
and brief exposition of the true nature of Darwinism and Evo-
lution. The author has achieved his purpose, as far as brevity
is concerned \ but it is diflScult to be very brief and very clear
on a complex topic.
Defining the position of Catholics towards evolution, Father
Muckermann confines the term evolution to the theory of the
development of species exclusive of ^lan; it does not, there-
fore, consider the origin of life, nor the origin of man. This
restriction of the word evolution does not correspond with
general usage. The impression is conveyed, by Father Mucker-
mann's treatment, that those who apply the theory to embrace
the descent of man from the lower animals, necessarily hold
also the Darwinian principle of natural selection. But there
are many evolutionists who reject the principle of natural se-
lection as an explanation of the how of evolution, yet main-
tain the evolution of man from the brute.
The que3tion of the descent of man is examined from the
^AUiiudi of CatholUi towards Daruf\numaHd^ Evolution , By H. Muckermann, S.J. St.
Louis: B. Herder.
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I06 NEW BOOKS [April,
point of view of reason and of faith. It involves two ques-
tions : Can we admit that the soul of man is derived from the
brute ? The answer of both faith and reason Father Mucker-
mann shows to be: No. May the body of man have been
thus derived ? Here one would wish that the author had ad-
hered to the method he pursues in the question of the origin
of animal species, and given, first, the answer of faith, then
that of reason. Just what is the attitude imposed upon us by
faith regarding this question is not shown, though, probably,
this is precisely the point apon which educated Catholics and
students would look for some light.
What is the Catholic position regarding evolution? That
is to say, evolution confined to the origin of species in the
biological world below man. Faith, Father Muckermann ex-
plains, leaves us free to believe, if we wish, that the various
species now existing may have developed from a few original
species. ''Faith requires that, in any case, the first dawn of
plant and animal life — for this alone is here taken into con-
sideration — be ascribed, in some way at least, to the creative
power of God.'' ** In the second place, faith has not decided
whether plants and animals have been directly or indirectly
created by God." Here, again, one would wish for a more
categorical and explicit treatment of the crucial question: Does
faith forbid us to believe that the first germ of life was evolved
from the non-living? Or, must we believe that life originated
from a direct creative act? The above statements seem to
imply that faith is satisfied provided we acknowledge the in-
direct creation of life. Yet immediately afterwards we read:
"It is a matter of perfect indifference, as far as faith is con-
cerned, to maintain that the species of plants and animals
now existing were originally created by God in their present
state, or to hold an original creation of a few species which
possessed the power of developing into* others." Here there
seems to be an implied assertion that faith requires us to hold
that life began by an act of direct creation. On the question
of the origin of species (exclusive of man). Father Mucker-
mann speaks in no uncertain tones: "The theory of evolution
is not opposed to faith, nor does it contradict the principles
of reason. On the contrary, being, in full harmony with the
Christian view of creation, it is supported by facts, the probable
argumentative force of which can hardly be denied." Here it
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 107
is instructive to recall the days, not so very long ago, when
defenders of the faith opposed this doctrine as philosophically
abMrd, and in flat contradiction with the Mosaic revelation.
H€id.lt no other merit than that of presenting, in a compendi-
ous form, some valuable scientific argument extracted from the
fine work of Father Wasman, S.J., on the biological aspect of
evolution, this little book would be a useful addition to the
library, all too scanty, of popular Catholic philosophy.
While even the staunchest friends
RECOLLECTIONS. of Mr. William O'Brien can hardly
ByWm. O'Brien. review his entire political career
without finding occasional applica-
tion for the adage Humanum est errare^ the harshest of his
judges will willingly concede that in the long struggle for
Irish rights, during the present generation, he has always
proved himself '' a first-rate fighting man," and splendidly con-
tributed to the victories which Irishmen have won. Under the
modest title of Recollections * he presents a somewhat sketchy
autobiography of himself down to the Mallow election of 1883.
He tells his tale modestly and sincerely, without striving to
"put his best foot foremost," and without any trace of bitter-
ness towards opponents. Beyond the glimpses he gives us of
his personal feelings and experiences, there are no revelations,
no publication of secrets, and, it may be added, no original
views upon the topics or the incidents that occupied men's
minds in the stormy decades of the seventies and eighties.
Yet the volume, which is of generous proportions, has not a
dull page in it. There is an easy gaiety and bonhomie in the
style and spirit which recalls, faintly, to be sure, Renan's 5^^-
venirs d'Enfance. Indeed, when reading the first chapters,
dealing with childhood and college days, one suspects that Mr.
O'Brien has been unconsciously influenced by Renan's account
of his days in Tr^guier and Saint Nicholas du Chardonnet.
Underneath the Celtic gaiety of the surface, and not very
far underneath, runs the equally Celtic strain of sadness, the
persistent tendency to recur to the note of Vanitas, Vanitatum,
which is the common root of what is strongest and weakest in
Irish character. We perceive it, for instance, in a note from
his diary, when, inf wretched health, and after losing almost
^ Ree^liectUns, By William O'Brien, M. P. New York : The Macmillan Company.
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io8 NEW Books [April,
all his family circle in one terrible week, he was offered the
dangerous honor of the editorship of United Ireland by Pstmell.
"What is there to forbid. A life of ease and perfect C9n-
tent, as far as my surroundings go ; more money than I have
any use for; friends galore, if I would seek them^ or if I would
only not shun them ; a creepy horror of the mean tragedies
of Irish public life ! Contra^ the rebel blood within me ; health
so bad that prison or pandemonium can make it no worse;
the ill-luck of Endymion in love, a lonely home from which
the last dear figure is fading away at an awful rate; nothing
whatever to live for, and a sense of the sorrow of life (and
above all of Irish life) so oppressive that even a forlorn hope
for our old race, and under the right man, seems bliss. . . •
I have some ability of a sort, more or less hebetated by dis-
ease and langour of body and soul. If I could only be what
I can be sometimes, I might serve for something in a poor
country that has not top much to choose from. There is noth-
ing that I am sure of except that I have a life to risk, and
that may be something, as things are shaping."
Risk his life he did in the desperate, indefatigable cam-
paign that United Ireland fought against Dublin Castle and Mr.
Forster. It was a fight which largely aided to convert Glad-
stone, and, eventually, contributed to inscribe on the statute
roll of England those rights of the Irish peasantry, for the
proclamation of which Parnell and O'Brien and Archbishop
Croke were denounced as enemies of the elementary principles
of natural justice. By the way, one of the best chapters in
the book is devoted to Croke, whom Mr. O'Brien knew in
early childhood, when the future archbishop was a curate in
Mallow. The stalwart, big-hearted, fearless prelate is painted
in heroic size, physically and morally. The portrait of Par-
nell, too, though not complete, is suggestive, and, of course,
much more sympathetic than that given by Davitt in his re-
cent volume. Readers will, probably, muse over the following
passage : '' On religious topics Parnell was closely reserved,
and never disrespectful.^ Cathplicism was the .pnly . fprm ol
religion fpr which ,1 ev^r l^new hini to betray ^v^y .t^ndernes^.
When« in the smoking ropm of (he House of Copimpos, we
were reading of the exequtiop of Joe Brady and Tim Kelly for
the Phoenix Park murders, be remarked very gravely : . * The
Catholic Church is the only one that can make a man die with
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I906.] NEIV Books 109
any real hope.^ " And Parnell's own belief on the subject ?
''The only positive opinion I ever heard him drop was once,
after I had been inveighing against the insolent cruelty of the
atomic theories, which Tyndall at that time had brought into
vogue, and insisting what a gloomy farce they would reduce
human life to, without the promise of immortality, he said
softly, and with something like a sigh: 'The only immortality
a man can have is through his children/"
Mr. O'Brien dates his book from Mallow, where he was
born and passed his youth. To have fancied, then, that he might
ever represent it in the British Parliament would have seemed,
both to himself and to all who knew him, the dream of a
lunatic. His subsequent election at this same Mallow was a
sign that the day was over when Irish constituencies were
either the appanage of a local aristocrat, or the providential
provision made for some hungry lawyer, ambitious of a gov-
ernment appointment. May he enjoy long )rears of peace and
honor by his beautiful Blackwater.
Fifty years ago this earnest ap-
ANCIENT PLAIN SONG, peal* was made by the great artist
By Pugin. ^^ho labored so successfully for the
restoration of mediaeval architec-
ture in England. When he waged his war against the mere-
tricious modernities that powerful interests were then endeavor-
ing to make fashionable in church building, he advocated, also^
the restoration of the ancient music concurrently with the
ancient architecture. In this remarkable little paper may be
found expressed, in an impassioned key, almost all the motives
and arguments to be found in the letter of Pius X. on the same
subject. The niusic that was to be heard then in Catholic
churches, and that may be still heard in Ynany, is denounced
with a scornful vigor that loses none of its point to*day. To
quote': ''The dedication of a modern Catholic church, as we
have seen it occasionally announced, accompanied by a full
band of music, and where bishops and dignitaries are exposed
to the degradation of sitting in dumb show to listen to the
interminable squalling of a few female professional ists and
wlitskered vocalists is a . . . ridiculous and inconsistent ex-
*An Eatnest A^tal fortkt Revival of the Ancient Plain Song, By A. Welby Pugin.
New York : Benziger Brothers.
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I lo nkw Books [April,
hibition." Nowhere in the mass of pleading^ that have been
published recently on the subject, have what Pugin terms the
monstrosities heard in many churches at Solemn Mass, been
hit off more happily than in the following passage : '' It is well
known that the Kyrie is ordered to be sung nine times in honor
of the Holy Trinity; modern composers utterly disregard the
mystical symbolism of the number, and multiply the supplica-
tions to an indefinrte repetition, merely to suit their notes.
Again, the priest intones the Gloria after the old traditions,
while the choif takes it up in a. totally different manner. The
Credo, so far from being a distinct profession of faith, as ordered,
is a mass of unintelligible sound ; and at the Sanctus, where
the priest invites the people to join with angels and archangels,
in one voice (cum una voce), in singing the Trisagion, a perfect
babel of voices usually breaks forth, and the Ter Sanctus is
utterly lost in a confusion of Hosannas, Benedictuses, and
broken sentences all going together in glorious confusion, which
scarcely ceases in time to enable the distracted worshipper a
moment's repose to adore at the Elevation. After a short
pause, the din recommences, and this generally lasts till a
thundering Agnus Dei begins. Whether it is in a spirit of
pure contradiction that modern composers have usually im-
parted to the supplication for peace great clamor, it is impossible
to say, but decidedly such is the case. Some of these composi-
tions would be admirably adapted for a chorus of drunken
revellers, shouting for wine outside a tavern; and if the words
'Wine, give us more wine,' were substituted for 'Dona nobis
pacem/ we should have a demand in perfect accordance with
the sound by which it is accompanied." Though dead, Pugin
yet speaketh appositely.
The Catholic Church Hymnal^ gives
THE CATHOLIC HTHNAL. to the Church and to church mu-
By Tozer* sic a collection of hymns that will
not be found wanting if submitted
to the highest test of hymnody, poetical as well as musical.
Gems abound in its pages. Dr. Tozer is well-known to church
musicians. Successful in all the fields of musical composition
where he has tried his talent, he has been particularly so in
writing hymn-tunes. Not every musician has the gift of fur-
* Catholic Church Hymnal. Edited by Dr. A. Edmond Tozer. New York : J. Fischer
& Brother.
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 1 1 1
nishing good hymn-tunes. Nor should everyone who plays a
church organ or a convent melodeon feel called upon further
to overload the market with ** new settings of familiar hymns."
We have had enough trash in the line of Catholic hymnody
during the past quarter of a century. Ill- equipped poetesses
and superficial musicians have collaborated on so-called hymnals
heretofore without reproach. But the day is gone when such
monstrosities as have appeared to form no inconsiderable por-
tion of our Sodality and Sunday-School repertoires will be
tolerated. We must have good hymnody or none. A very
special talent is required to set to worthy music the majestic
poems that Catholic hymnody can furnish. We think that Dr.
Tozer has this talent, and we predict a large circulation for
his latest volume. The hymns are arranged for use in sanctu-
ary choirs, congregational singing, and Sunday- Schools. We
recognize among the contributors to this hymnal the familiar
names of two American masters. Rev. Alfred Young, C.S.P*^
and Victor Hammerel.
This republication of The Diary of
THE DIARY OF MARGARET Margaret Roper • first published
ROPER. some fifty years ago, has an addi-
tional interest since the beatifica-
tion of Sir Thomas More. It is not, and does not pretend to
be, a real diary. But it is founded on historical facts, and is
a good imitation of the style of that day. The contents are
an epitome of much of the detailed information that we pos-
sess concerning the More household. The so-called Reforma-
tion period in England has attracted very much attention in
recent years; and everything that helps, as this delightful lit-
tle book does, to show the character and motives of the tyran-
nical, profligate king, who chiefly brought it about, and the
utter worldliness of his supporters, is useful. Erasmus figures
a good deal through its pages, and, perhaps, gets off rather
easily. The ** orthodoxy ** which an editorial footnote, in disa-
greement with an observation that was in the original text,
allows him may be admitted; but he was certainly far from
being an ideal Catholic. A merry, girlish note, which is struck
at the opening of the diary, continues for some time through
Mistress Margaret More's jottings of the daily life, beginning
* Tk€ Hoiuihold of Sir Thomas Mori, By Anne Manning. Pp. 158. St. Louis : B.
Herder.
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112 New BOOKS [Aprils
with the return of her future husband from abroad, in com-
pany with Erasmus : '' So soon as I had kissed their hands,
and obtained their blessings, the tall lad stepped forth, and
who should he be but Will Roper, returned from my father's
errand over seas! He hath grown hugely and looks mannish;
but his manners are worsened instead of bettered by foreign
travel; for, instead of his old frankness, he hung upon hand
till father bade him come forward; and then, as he went his
rounds, kissing one after another, stopped short when he came
to me, twice made as though he would have saluted me, and
then held back, making me look so stupid, that I could have
boxed his ears for his pains, especially as father burst out a-
laughing and cried : * the third time's lucky/ "
* Towards the middle ot the book the shadow of the coming
tragedy gradually steals over the pages, the last few of which
relate Margaret's stealthy journey by water to London Bridge,
to bring away her father's head from the spike on which it
was exposed. Nowhere does the moral pathos of More's story
receive more tender expression than in the closing passage:
" Flow on, bright shining Thames. A good brave man hath
walked aforetime on your margent, himself as bright and use-
ful and delightsome as be you, sweet river. And, like you,
he never murmured ; like you, he upbore the weary, and gave
drink to the thirsty, and reflected heaven in his face. I'll not
swell your full current with any more fruitless tears. There's
a river whose streams make glad the City of our God. He
now rests beside it. Good Christian folks, as they hereafter
pass this spot, upborne on thy gentle tide, will, maybe, point
this way and say : * There dwelt Sir Thomas More ' ; but
whether they do or not, vox populi is a very inconsiderable
matter. Who would live on their breath ? They hailed St.
Paul as Mercury, and then stoned him and cast him out of
the city» supposing him to be dead. Their favorite of to-day
may, for what they care, go hang himself to-morrow in his
surcingle. Thus it must be while the world lasts; and the
very racks and screws wherewith they aim to overcome the
nobler spirit, only test and reveal its power of exaltation above
the heaviest gloom of circumstance. Interfecistis^ interfecistis
hominem omnium Anglorum optimum.** One is glad to see this
''"^^e gem of literary art worthily treated by the printer and
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 1 13
Franciscan literature* grows apace.
FRANCISCANA The books written about the Pov-
erello within a very recent period
are sufficient to make a small library. In the iirst of the
above-mentioned volumes that library acquires a really beau-
tiful specimen of the book-maker's art. Type, paper, binding
are all of choice quality, while the colored illustrations are ex-
quisitely artistic. And the author's work is worthy of its
charming dress. She is full of poetic feeling, and knows how
to express it. She treats us to a delightful pilgrimage through
the " Valley Enclosed," about twenty-five miles northeast of
Florence, so rich with memories of St. Francis and of Dante,
and full of institutions, monuments, and places associated with
the names of the saint and the poet, as well as with the great
Ghibelline house of Guidi, who were once lords of the valley
and of the castles which still carry the mind back to the days
of Guelph and Ghibelline. As each place passes in review, the
historic incidents, the stories and legends connected with it, are
recounted by our cicerone, whose knowledge of history and rev-
erence for holy things are unbounded. She lingers long around
the Rock of St. Francesco and La Verna, and gives a moving
account of the service of the Stigmata, as performed in the
monastery where the ancient Franciscan observance is carried
out in all its primitive rigor. The book closes with a fascinat-
ing chapter describing the present-day life of the peasant folk
of the valley and the hill. We would fain reproduce her de-
scription of the observances of the second of November, but
the limits of space do not permit. It must suffice to recom-
mend the work warmly to anybody who desires a literary treat.
Mr. Hutton's Cities of Utnbria is of the same character and
quality as The Casentino, He takes us, successively, through
Perugia, Assisi, Spello, FoHgno, and various other cities, till
we reach Urbino. A section of the book is devoted to a criti-
cal account of the Umbrian school of painting; another con-
♦ Th€ CasenHno and Its Story, By Ella Noyes. Illustrated by Dora Noyes. New York :
E. P. Dutton & Co. The Cities ofUmbria, By Edward Hutton. New York: E. P. Dutton
& Co. The Sirafhic Keepsake: A Taliswtan against Temptation, Written for Brother Leo
by St. Francis of Assisi ; also his Words 0/ Counsel and Praise of God Most High, Printed in
fac-simile from the Saint's Handwriting and set forth in English by Reginald Balfour, of the
Third Order of St. Francis, Fellow of King's College, Cambridge. New York : Benziger
Brothers. The WriHngs of St, Francis of Assisi, Newly translated into English with an In-
troduction and Notes. By Father Paschal Robinson, of the Order of Friars Minor. Philadel-
phia : The Dolphin Press.
VOL. LXXXIII — 8
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114 NEW BOOKS [April,
sists of short lines of Joachim de Flore, St. Francis of Assisi,
Brother Bernard, and Brother Elias. Mr. Hutton devotes much
of his time to historical retrospection, from the religious point
of view ; some of his chapters are really thoughtful essays on
mediaeval history, which he attaches to the name of some per-
sonage whose memory is recalled by a place or 'a picture.
Though his point of view is from outside the Catholic Churchy
and he consequently sees things in what we consider a distorted
perspective, he is not an unfriendly or unsympathetic critic;,
and frequently pays a glowing tribute to things Catholic. The
author seems loath to condemn positively M. Sabatier's view,,
that St. Francis was "a kind of divine schismatic, an amiable
Martin Luther, at least in his intention, accusing the Church,
rather by his conduct, it would seem, than by his teaching, of the
betrayal of mankind into a kind of slavery from which he, the
little poor man, would set it free." Mr. Hutton expresses an-
other view — St. Francis was not the embodiment of a destruc-
tive principle : " He was not concerned with the tremendous
policies of the Catholic Church, but, in the dust and dirt, he
found the lilies of her love. For, the real revolution for which
St. Francis worked was a^ resurrection of love among men.
He too, with St. John, seems ever to repeat: 'Little children,,
love one another.' It this ancient and orthodox teaching may
confound the Church, then, indeed, was he her enemy ; but he
who loved even the poorest and most wretched, would have
been the last to embrace that Mother who had taught him all
he knew, and introduced him, as it were, to him who was ever
his pattern, in any hasty or ridiculous anathema."
A perusal of this work suggests the reflection that there is
present need for a thoroughly critical Catholic history of St.
Francis and his age, that will put at rest, definitively, those non-
Catholic interpretations of the Franciscan movement which pro-
fess to find in it a revolution against the Church. That there are^
lovers and followers of St. Francis, capable of undertaking the
work, is evident from the scholarly character of the two vol-
umes just publishecf, one by Mr. Balfour, the other by Father
Paschal Robinson. The purpose of the first is to vindicate the
authenticity of three documents that claim to come from the
pen of St. Francis; that is, the Words of Counsel — a letter
written to Brother Leo ; The Praises of the Most High God^
written also for Brother Leo ; and The Blessings which Brother
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i9o6.] NEW BOOKS IIS
Leo wore as a talisman against temptation till the end of his
life. Father Paschal Robinson's study is of wider scope. It
consists of a critical appreciation of all St. Francis' writings;
and shows thorough acquaintance with whatever bears on the
subject In a later 'number of The Catholic World we will
give a more extended notice of this last work.
Three volumes* of this undertak-
POLITICAL HISTORY OF ing have appeared. The first in
ENGLAND. chronological order, covering from
the Norman Conquest to the death
of King John, is from the pen of Mr. George Burton Adams,
professor of history in Yale University. It was ready for pub-
lication in March, 1905, but was not issued till October. The
second volume is the work of Mr. Tout, professor of mediaeval
and modern history in the University of Maifchester ; it reaches
from the accession of Henry III. to the death of Edward III.
The other volume is the tenth of the series, and one of special
interest to American readers,* as it embraces the period ex-
tending from the accession of George III. to the close of Pitt's
first administration. It is not possible, within the space per-
mitted us, to offer anything approaching a detailed appre-
ciation of these three large, closely-printed books, written in
the fashion approved, to-day, by historical students, of which
extreme condensation is the predominant feature, and in which
all ornamental diffusiveness and£unnecessary digression are se-
verely shunned. Suffice it to note a few of the characteristics
which distinguish it from its predecessors. As the title indi-
cates, its chief purpose is to record the political development
of the country, taking into account, only so far as they bear
on this theme, everything that relates to religion, social and
economic conditions, and foreign relations, diplomatic and mar-
tial. The immense quantity of material that has recently be-
come available for the historian will increase the size of the
work far beyond the limits of a plan on the scale of Lingard.
References to authorities by footnotes are very rare. Instead,
at least in these present volumes, there are appendices citing
the chief sources and authorities, with, in most cases, a criti-
cal appreciation of their value. An inspection of these lists
• Tk€ Political History of England, In twelve volumes. Vols. II., III., and X. Edited
hj William Hunt, D.Litt, and Reginald L. Poole. New York : Lopgmans, Green & Co.
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reveals how many resources are opened to the historian which
were hitherto unknown. Yet, on several points, we have com-
pared these pages with Lingard, and have had the satisfaction
of observing that the accuracy, honesty, and scholarship of the
Catholic historian come creditably out of the ordeal to which
fresh research subjects them. It is also a satisfaction to ob-
serve that on the matters in the first two volumes, where Cath-
olic susceptibilities are, naturally, alive — the struggles between
the Church and the Norman Kings, the characters of St. Anselm,
St. Thomas of Canterbury, and other churchmen — the authors
evince a freedom from that spirit of bigotry and the domina-
tion of prejudices and prepossessions, which, too often, hare
rendered non-Catholic contributions to English history con-
firmation of the saying that " history is a conspiracy against
truth.'' Of the tenth volume we purpose to give a more de-
tailed notice in The Catholic World for May.
This volume* is a collection of
T tt£ PARDOKER'S WALLET, mildly satirical essays, chiefly on
By Crothers. some of the minor weaknesses and
pardonable foibles that we all per^-
ceive among our best friends, and that our best friends, proba-
bly, regretfully observe in us. In some instances, Mr. Crothers
takes fof his game sectional characteristics and prevalent fads;*
and he shoots very straight, though he does not- employ a
deadly kind of ammunition. His humor is quiet, and some-
what academic, more akin to that of the Autocrat of the Bteak-
fast Table than to the brand furnished by the contemporary
rabble, that relies for its effects upon an unlimited use of slang
and a drunken profusion in the matter of capital letters. He
can bring a smile by the unconventional employment of a
word or phrase, or an unexpected simile or metaphor. More
frequently it is in the understatement of a suggestive thought.
For instance, after observing that formerly in America the
prejudice against the Jews derived its strength from religious
feelings, as illustrated in a Calvinistic hymn, which he quotes,
he adds that "in these days the anti-Semites are not so likely
to be angry while they sing, as while they cast up their .ac-
counts." A good piece of sustained humor consists of a series
• The Pardoner's Wallet. By Samuel McChord Crothers. Boston and New York :
Houghton. Mifflin & Co.
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 117
of lessons in logic given in terms of gardening, when the fal-
lacies are treated as vegetables, and where Mr. Crothers pokes
a little quiet fun at our resolute pedagogists.
A considerable proportion of the
PRACTICAL PEDAGOGY, current publications on the sub-
By the Brothers of the Chris- ject of pedagogy is of a kin^d to
tian Schools. justify the scepticism which many
practical educators entertain as to
the wisdom of assigning to this study the exalted position it
now occupies in the national curriculum of training for teach-
ers. Book after book is coming forth full of ill- matured and
untried theories, laid down with an air of dogmatic finality.
Elementary facts of infantile nature, known to every mother
since the dawn of civilization, are expounded with a parade of
psychological profundity that recalls the lessons on the alpha*
bet given by the professor of philosophy to M. Jourdain. .The
ordinary resources of our tongue seem to be top limited for
the expression of scientific pedagogical thought. New terms
are manufactured of such a kind that they might prompt John
Bull to ask himself, whether, to the list of his economic griev-
ances, he may not add that now, even his language— if peda-
gogic literature represents it fairly — might bear the odious stamp,
tnade in Germany. Not all recent works of pedagogy are open
to this criticism. Some are characterized by a' combination of
scientific thought and practical good sense. Yet scarcely one,
even of the best, but labors under a serious defect. That de-
fect consists in this, that, while scientific pedagogy professes to
lay down rules for teaching and development, mental and phy-
sical, based on a sound psychological analysis oi the child's
mind, two paramount psychological facts are slighted ; one is
treated insufficiently, the other, as a rule, not at all. The prob-
lem of moral training is treated inadequately, that of religious
training is ignored. Yet Positivist and Evolutionist admit, nowa-
days, that the religious impulse, tendency, instinct — call it what
you will — is an essential constituent of human nature, and in-
timately entwined with the moral fibre. That writers who un-
dertake to provide works of instruction and training for the
teachers of the nation are compelled to eliminate ficm the
scope of their task the most essential of its features, and, in
consequence of this exclusion, to treat another of the piedomi-
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nent factors in a superficial, fragmentary fashion, is an admis-
sion that the national system of elementary education is woe-
fully defective.
Having dwelt on the shortcomings that are prevalent, in
works of this character, we may sum up our view of the volume
issued by the Christian Brothers* by saying that, on each of the
points mentioned, it contrasts strongly with them. It is the
result of a long and widely-tried system that has been approved
by success. It trekts, ds fully as may be done in a small book,
every side of elementary education — the principles which regu-
late the physical, the mental/ and the moral development of the
young;- the school audits organization ; the equipment, tbe
duties, and the methods of the teacher ; the spedal methods
proper to the teaching of the various branches. The treatment
of each topic is -systematic, minute, and, above all, practical.
And ohe is comforted to find that the general gist of the book
ihdicates that the Christian Brothers, like Professor Munster-
berg^ are of the conviction that the first qualification of a
teacher ought- to be, not an acquaintance with the history of
pedagogy, or a wide reading in works dealing with psychology
and the evolution of civilization, but i thorough knowledge of
the matter which he teaches.
i Miss Dunbar has completed her
SAINTLY WOMENi useful work t' with the same scru-
By Dunbar.* ; pulous care in making it exact and
complete as characterized her first
volume. Scarcely one saint's name, that is to be found any-
where in ecclesiastical history, :the Acta Sanctorum, or other
hagiographical treasure-house; down to a comparatively late
date, but receives notice here \ and those of importance are ac-
corded a goodly share of space. We have found the references,
as far as we 'have- been able toi verify them, exact and cor-
rect. The; list of feasts and chief shrines consecrated to each
saint will be very serviceable for consultation. The details
furnished are related in a simple, reverent fashion, without any
attempt at criticism, or personal comment. No Catholic library
ought to be : without this useful work.
• Elements of Practical Pedagogy, By the Brothers of the Christian Schools. New York :
f La Salle; Bureau of Supplies.
\ A PUtionary of Saintly Women* ByA^es C.Dunbar. In two vols. Vol. II. New
York: The Macmillan Company.
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t906.] NEW BOOKS 119
The writer of this compact little
LOUISIANA. volume,* which forms one of the
By PhelpB. American Commonwealth Series ^ has
produced a clear, comprehensive,
and yet concise history of Louisiana, from the first exploration
of the Mississippi Valley down to the withdrawal of the federal
troops by President Hayes, in 1877, an act which marked the
close of the Reconstruction period. The work bears the stamp
of originality, not that it offers any fresh facts to the student,
but rather because of the appreciations which it gives of many
events and movements. The writer is a Southerner, and ex-
presses his sympathies, though not in a way that would cast
the stigma of partiality on his judgments. Admirers of Ben-
jamin Butler, perhaps, might pass a more severe judgment on
some of the pages. The whole *' Carpet Bag" administration is
characterized in terms much less euphemistic than those employed
in current text-books that originate from Northern sources.
Notwithstanding the restrictions
THE IMITATION OF CHRIST, which M. Fabre, the eminent criti-
cal student of Christian literature,
sets to his admiration for monasticism, his volume on the
bookf which he calls, "with Joan of Arc, the eternal glory
of the Middle Ages," is a labor of love. He has taken in-
finite pains to produce a faithful translation, which he illus-
trates with numerous critical and historical notes. He gives
an introductory chapter seldom found in modern versions, be-
cause it exists in only a few of the Latin manuscripts. He
affirms that the fourth book, for reasons which are very strong,
is no part of the original Imitation. The question of authorship
is discussed with great acuteness. Relying chiefly on internal
evidence, M. Fabre peremptorily excludes the name of Gerson.
The passage in the third book, where the author of the Imita-
tion warns his reader against the jealousies, rivalries, and dis-
putes of the schools, satisfies M. Fabre that the writer was
neither a Dominican nor a Franciscan. The great number of
GiUicisms in the Latin he considers a proof that the author's
* Louisiana: A Record of Expansion, By Albert Phelps. Boston and New York:
Houghton, Mifflin & Co.
t V Imitation dt Jisus-Christ. Traduction Nouvelle Prdc^^e d*unc Introduction ; suivie
d'une nomenclature des emprunts de l' Imitation, etc. Par Joseph Fabre. Paris: Fdix
Alcon. Of The Imitation of Christ, Four books. St. Louis : B. Herder.
\
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native and familiar tongue was French; in brief, M. Fabre
reaches the conclusion that the work was written by a French
Benedictine, in the thirteenth century, between 1228 and 1278.
A complete list of the texts and phrases, borrowed from
the Scriptures and elsewhere, is given, with references to the
sources. M. Fabre notes that, while the Imitation has two-
citations from Ovid and Seneca, it has none from the Fathers
of the Church, or from the scholastics, and but one from the
mystics of the Middle Ages, that one being from St. Francis
of Assisi.
The sumptuous edition of the Imitation just issued, in Eng-
land by Keegan Paul, French & Co., in America by Herder^
will delight the artist and the book-lover. It is printed on
exquisite hand made paper, in small folio size. The initials of
the chapters and tailpieces are direct reproductions, of fine
execution, from French originals of the fifteenth century. It
is bound in soft, rich chamois. When one takes it up and
turns the pages, one realizes something of the connoisseur's
thrill when he has stumbled on a treasure. As the edition is
limited to five hundred copies it will, no doubt, be quickly
exhausted.
Every one interested in Oriental
THE RELIGION OF THE studies knows how great an au-
EGYPTIANS. thority in Egyptology is held by
By Steindorff. Georg Steindorflf, of Leipsic, and
consequently will appreciate how
valuable a sketch of ancient Egyptian religion* coming from his
pen must be. This is a small volume for so large a subject — it
numbers only i ^2 pages — and naturally it omits many details and
typical illustrations which one would wish to see. Especially de-
sirable would be a few more examples of Egyptian mythology
and a few more pages of quotation from the old literature that
has come down to us. But as to the value of what Professor
Steindorff has given us, there can be but one judgment. It is
interesting in manner, and constructed on the best plan of ad-
vanced scholarship. The development of Egyptian religion,
from its primitive form of local cults to its completion as a
national system; the marvelous movement toward monotheism,
♦ The RtliiioH of the Ancient Egyptians, By Georg Steindorff. New York : Putnam's
Sons.
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 121
that begins and ends with Amenophis IV.; the growth of
magic, and the formation of that striking eschatology, are set
before us in a masterly manner.
We cannot conclude our recommendation of this book with-
out a word on the immense importance which the comparative
study of religions is now assuming. Already the literature of
this new science is beyond any one man's control, and its in-
fluence upon contemporary thought has been profound. Our
seminaries will commit an unpardonable sin if they continue
to neglect this department of human knowledge. This science
is not a matter of mere archaeology ; it is not an amusement
which consists in reviewing the grotesque mythologies of pa-
gan peoples. It is a science rather which is being brought to
bear vitally upon the Bible, and upon some of the fundamental
concepts of Christian faith. And unless Christian students be-
come well acquainted with it, it promises to be as deadly a
weapon as that higher criticism which once was ridiculed, and
which Bossuet in its very beginnings contemptuously despised,
but which has changed to a greater or less extent the reli-
gious views of Christendom.
II Padre Salvatore Minocchi is one
THE PSALMS IN ITALIAN, of the very foremost men in the
By Fr. Salvatore. new intellectualist movement in
Italy. As editor of the Studi
Riligiosif and as the moving spirit in the Society di S. Geronimo,
he is doing great and permanent work for the revival and devel-
opment of higher studies, and especially biblical studies, in
Italy. He is well fitted to do this, being an expert Hebraist,
and thoroughly acquainted with the literature of Scriptural
criticism. Consequently, it goes without saying that his new
translation of the Psalms* is a work of admirable and honest
scholarship. The translation is excellently made; and in the
printing is divided into proper stanza form. One fine point of
detail lies in the retention of the word Jahv^, instead of the
usual translation, God. Every modern translation of any part
of the Old Testament ought, in our judgment, simply to trans-
literate, but not to translate this name of the Deity. In a brief
but pithy introduction P. Minocchi says that although a few of
the psalms are pre-exilic, still in substance these songs repre-
*/SaiMu Tradotti dal Testo Originale E Commentati Da Salvatore Minocchi. Roma:
F. Pustet.
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122 New Books [April.
sent the national and religious thought of the Hebrews after
the Babylonian captivity. We wish for this work a wide cir-
culation even in America.
This is the record of an heroic
LIFE OF THEOPHANE Frenchman,* who suflfered death
VENARD. for the Christian faith, in Tonquin,
in 1 86 1. The greater part of the
narrative is autobiographical, being made up of Father V^nard's
letters. These are written in the most artless style, yet are
most perfect chronicles of events, and .especially of the martyr's
interior life. We have seldom read a book more touching. If
the blood of the martyrs is the seed of Christians, so are their
words the inspiration of missionaries.
Father Walsh, in republishing this valuable little work, with
his own notes, has rendered good service to the holy cause he
so earnestly advocates. We only wish we had an American
Seminary for foreign missions, into whose holy precincts this
book would attract noble-hearted young men to emulate the
Venerable V^nard, and perhaps share his martyr's crown.
Students of social conditions, and those who long for the
awakening of the Social Conscience, look with favor on the
rapidly increasing amount of fiction which has a social mission.
Miss Billy \ is an addition to that literature which contains a
useful lesson pleasantly imparted.
A minister, who has suffered reverses, moves his family to
a relatively poor neighborhood, where a careless tone prevails
and no one feels interested in the general welfare. Miss Billy, a
daughter with impulses and insight that make for leadership,
becomes a centre of authority in the neighborhood, awakens
interest in civic improvement, and changes the face of the earth.
She occupies the stage nearly all the time, but she never lacks
interest. Many phases of character are introduced in collateral
heroes and heroines, and not a few interesting situations are
worked out. The story is pleasant and cheering and it con-
tains a lesson that we all need.
^A Modim Martyr: Tkiophant Vinard (The Venerable), Translated from the French
by Lady Herbert. Revised and annotated by Rev. James Anthony Walsh, Missionary Aposto-
lic. Boston : Society for the Propagation of the Faith, 75 Union Park Street.
\h4iis Billy: A Neighborhood Story. By Edith Kelley Stokely and Marion Kent Hard.
Boston : Lothrop Publishing Company.
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Cuttent Events.
The fact that comparatively little
Russia. has, of late, been said about Rus-
sia might be taken as an indica-
tion that it has passed into the condition of those countries
which have no history, and therefore it might be thought that
things were prosperous; the saying is, however, only partly
true; for oppression and evil-doing may become so much the
rule that the record of it ceases to be news. To a certain
extent this, for the last few weeks, has been the case in the
Tsar's dominions. The so-called constitutional government has
continued the repressive measures which were, if not excusa-
ble, at least explicable in the midst of the revolutionary upris-
ings.
The spirit of these 'measures is disclosed in a telegram re-
cently sent by M. Durnovo, the Minister of the Interior, to the
Governor-General of KieflF : " I earnestly request you . . .
to give orders that all rioters should, in case of resistance, be
destroyed without mercy, and in case of resistance their houses
burnt. It is necessary to use every severity in order to check,
once and for all, the spread of the revolt which threatens to
imperil our State. As things are, this is the only way of re-
establishing the power of the authorities. Arrests lead to noth-
ing, inasmuch as it is impossible to try hundreds of people.
It is necessary that the soldiers should be penetrated with the
above instructions."
Such is the paternal government of the '* Little Father,"
even after the Manifesto of October 30, by which freedom was
solemnly granted. All who offer resistance are not even to be
imprisoned, much less tried, but to be shot down by the sol-
diery. It is not surprising, therefore, to read that a few weeks
ago some fifty Cossacks, with gunners, entered a village in the
province of Kherson and knouted eighteen peasants. One of
the peasants went mad, and others were left dying, while an
onlooker became insane with horror at the sight of these bru-
talities. Here there was no question of resistance — all that
the peasants had done was to re-elect representatives of the
commune, who were not acceptable to the authorities. This
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124 Current Events [April,
is not an isolated case of interference. A deputation of peasant
organizations to M. Count Witte complained of the dispersal
of their meetings, and declared that the local authorities were
coercing them in the choice of delegates to the primary electoral
colleges.
The character of the government's activity, and the progress
of Russia toward the reign of law and order, may be judged
by the following statistics of events which took place in the
month ending February 7. During this month 78 newspapers
were suspended, and 58 editors arrested ; a state of siege was
proclaimed in 62 places, and a minor state of siege in 34 ; the
number of people summarily executed, not including the Mos-
cow repressions, was 1,400; the number of political arrests in
St. Petersburg was 1,716, and in Russia proper 10,000. Tem-
porary prisons were opened in 17 towns; in many places no
room can be found for the large number of prisoners, and they
have had to be deported to Siberia or elsewhere. A score of
workmen's cheap restaurants in St. Petersburg were closed, in
order to prevent the unemployed from obtaining relief. Thirty
millions worth of property has been destroyed, it is estimated,
in agrarian outrages, due to misgovernment. A priest has
been arrested for a sermon, in which he declared that the land
belonged to God. These and many other similar occurrences
show that M. Count Witte's idea of liberty is somewhat strange.
In view of these events, it is becoming hard to know whether
to rejoice or not at the fact that he still remains in office. Ru-
mors have been current that he had resigned, or had been
dismissed. One of his colleagues has gone; but the most ob-
jectionable — M. Durnovo — has been retained. On the other
hand, when we remember that in Russia there are some 120
millions of people, it is possible to believe that the greater
number are satisfied, and that in the midst of this vast multi-
tude there may be some who have, in the best interest of this
greater number, to be treated with great severity. In fact the
Anarchists and Nihilists of Russia — although the victims of great
oppression — only suffered what they tried to inflict upon others,
and those innocent people. And while many newspapers have
been suppressed, a considerable latitude of discussion is allowed.
On the question of the meeting of the Duma^ for example, free-
dom of criticism could hardly have been greater, one of the
papers expressing the opinion that the Duma was a kind of
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i9o6.] Current Events 125
Humbert's safe, intended to encourage foreign capitalists to
loosen their purse-strings once more.
Another Imperial Manifesto has been published, reorganizing
the Council of the Empire, introducing into it an elective ele-
ment, and defining its powers, as well as those of what we may
call the Lower House — the Imperial Duma. The Council of
the Empire in future will consist of an equal number of elected
members and of members nominated by the Tsar, so that with the
Upper House to so large an extent elected, and the Lower House
wholly so, the new Constitution is in appearance mOre demo-
cratic than the English. Both assemblies are to have equal
legislative powers; bills are to pass both houses before being
presented to the Tsar. If, while the sittings of the Duma &re
suspended, legislative action should be necessary, power is re-
served to the Tsar to make the laws which necessity requires ;
those laws are, however, to have no lasting force, unless the
Duma^ within two months of the resumption of its sittings,
gives to them its approbation. Moreover, no laws of this kind,
made by the Tsar's sole authority, are. to involve any change
in the fundamental laws of the Empire, in the regulations
governing the procedure of the Council of the Empire or of
the Imperial Duma^ or in the regulations with regard to the
conduct of the elections to those bodies. This seems to safe-
guard sufficiently the permanent powers of the new representa-
tive bodies. In the Council of the Empire there will be re-
presentatives of the Orthodox Church, of the Academy of
Science, of the Universities, of the Chambers of Commerce, and
of the Chambers of Industry, as well as of the nobility, and
the Polish landed proprietors, and the Zemstvos. These pro-
visions seem to be a substantial concession to the elective princi-
ple, and to bsstow upon the representatives of the people
valuable powers. Russian public opinion, so far as it can be
ascertained from the newspapers, is, however, bitterly disap-
pointed. Only one paper, the Novoe Vremya, expresses satis-
faction. The Duma is declared to be a mere mockery of re-
presentative institutions, hedged about by a bureaucratic Upper
House and an irresponsible Ministry, and completely isolated
from its constituents. These criticisms, we cannot but think,
are premature, and if they should lead to the practical rejec-
tion of the concessions, will prove disastrous. The duty of all
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126 Current Events [April,
good Russians would seem to be to accept what is given, and
use those gifts as the means of getting more.
Elections for the Duma have, at last, begun. The process
by which the grain is winnowed from the chaff is fourfold.
The first stage, in the country districts, is the designation by
the communal assemblies of representatives to the district elec-
toral colleges. The district electoral colleges then proceed to
choose electors to the provincial college. The first of these
elections has taken place in the province of St. Petersburg;
the peasants have chosen their delegates for the district elec-
toral college, and, conservative electors having been chosen, the
choice is agreeable to the government.
Another amelioration of the condition under which the
Church exists in Russia has been made. Ordinances have been
published by which Governors-General in the North, South,,
and West are deprived of the power which they have hitherto
possessed of closing monasteries on their own initiative, the
right to hold processions is secured, and the privileges of the
Catholic clergy extende.d.
The most pressing of the anxieties of the authorities at the
present moment — the outbreaks having been suppressed — is the
state of the finances. Gold, during those disturbances, was
sent out of the country in large amounts. Extreme measures
have been declared, on high authority, to be in all likelihood
necessary unless money can be found. What these measures
will be, whether a resort to a forced paper currency, or some
other equally disastrous method, is not known. The standard
of value — Russian Fours — recently went down to 77 — almost
as far as it went during the height of the recent outbreaks.
A loan, however, has temporarily relieved the situation.
While unfortunately few except his
Germany. own subjects find it possible to-
place full confidence in the foreign
policy of the German Emperor, for his many private virtues,,
and especially for the purity of his family life, the greatest ad-
miration is felt by all. He is a model husband and father,
and the example of the Empress, if imitated by the votaries
of fashion in the lower walks of life, would bring untold bene-
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i9o6.] Current Events 127
fits to every nation. A family festival has been held in Ber-
lin to celebrate two events — the silver wedding of the Emperor
and Empress and the marriage of their second son, Prince Eitel
Fritz, to the Duchess Sophie Charlotte of Oldenburg. In re-
ply to a congratulatory address the Emperor made a speech
scarcely calculated to reassure those who are anxious for a
peaceful outcome of the difficulties with France : " My first and
last thought is for my fighting forces by sea and land. God
grant that war may not come. If it comes, I am firmly con-
vinced that my army will acquit itself as it did thirty-five
years ago." As no war can possibly be made except by the
Emperor's will — for no one dreams that France will declare
war — his words make it clear that he has not yet decided in
favor of peace.
The opinion entertained of democracy by the governing
classes in Germany may be learned from the speech delivered
in the Reichstag by Count Posadowskyi the Secretary of State
for the Interior. In this speech the Count declared frankly
that Prince Bismarck had made a mistake in applying univer-
sal suffrage to the German nation. His hopes in doing so had
not been fulfilled. The danger involved in universal suffrage
was that the deputies, instead of leading the masses, would be
led by them. A man of learning must possess, according to
the Count, a better understanding of the needs of the State
than a man who works daily at a machine. While universal
suffrage, inasmuch as it had been unfortunately established for
the Empire, must be adhered to, strenuous opposition is to be
offered to the introduction of it into Prussia. ''If the Prussian
State, that wonderful creation of history, were to provide the
Social Democracy with seats in the Lower House of the Diet,
all we could say would be: 'Only the very biggest calves go
to the slaughter themselves.' "
It may possibly be the case that Count Posadowsky repre-
sents an alteration in the trend of German political thought;
for since the last General Election a remarkable decline has
taken place in the Socialist vote. In seventeen out of twenty-
two by-elections which have been held since, there has been a
positive and very serious decline. In the whole series 20,000
fewer votes have been given to the Social Democrats, while
14,000 more votes have been given to the bourgeois parties.
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128 Current Events [April,
The intolerable dogmatism of the leaders is assigned by some
of the Social Democrats themselves as the reason for this
change; the audacious insubordination of the rank and file is
the explanation given by others.
Commercial Treaties are not, as a rule, very interesting
subjects for discussion. But, as the dominating aims of the
world in the present age are economical, not dynastic or reli-
gious, it is necessary to record the fact that a new commer-
cial system came into operation in Germany on the first of
March. This new system involves a large increase in the du-
ties on agricultural imports as well as on manufactured goods.
The results of this extension of protection will doubtless be
carefully watched by the students of the fiscal system in Eng-
land.
While Russia is (possibly) on the
Austria-Hungary. road to the attainment of a con-
stitutional and parliamentary ri-
gime^ Hungary is, for the time being, deprived of the rights
of self-government which she has so long possessed. The Hun-
garian Parliament was dissolved some weeks ago by the Em-
peror-King, and he chose as his agent a military officer by
whom the Chamber was cleared and the doors locked and
sealed. The following are the terms of the rescript of dissolu •
tion : "Whereas the majority constituted by the allied parties
of the Chamber have, in spite of our repeated summons, refused
persistently to take over the government on an acceptable ba-
sis without violating our Royal rights, as by law guaranteed,
we, to the sorrow of our heart, are not able to expect from
this Parliament an activity conducive to the interests of the
country, and therefore, on the proposal of our Hungarian Min-
istry, declare the Parliament, convoked on February 15, 1905,
to be dissolved, and reserve to ourself the convocation of a new
Parliament as soon as may be." The Prime Minister, Baron
Fejervary, countersigned this rescript. Hungary is, consequent-
ly, under the absolute rule of the Sovereign and his ministers
until he and they shall see fit to summon a new Parliament.
The commercial Treaty with Germany recently negotiated,
which, by the constitution, required parliamentary ratifica-
tion, has been promulgated without it; and in this proceed-
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I9O60 Current Events 129
ing Germany acquiesces. Stocks actually rose when the dis-
solution of the Chamber took place.
After having taken this first decisive step the govern-
ment has become even more aggressive. Defence of the Royal
rights might be pleaded for the dissolution, but such a plea
will not avail for the more recent proceedings. The Coalition
newspapers have been suppressed, trial by jury for political
offences has been suspended, the right of meeting for all oppo-
nents of the government has been abolished, and several- County
Councils dissolved. On the other side one of the leaders of the
Coalition, Count Andrassy, has issued an appeal urging uni-
versal refusal to pay taxes or to furnish recruits until consti-
tutional conditions are restored : '* Let no one pay taxes, let
no one serve as a soldier. Let every one give of his means''
to support the officials displaced by the government. The
Coalition leaders have also issued a joint manifesto summoning
the nation to resist tenaciously the present arbitrary system of
government until the day of victory shall dawn. " If we trust
and endure, we are invincible," concludes the manifesto. " If
God be for us, who can be against us ? "
So far no outbreaks of violence have taken place, although
much provocation has been g^ven. This does not seem to be
part of the policy advised by the Coalition. Moreover, the
head of one of the parties — together, we presume, with his
eleven followers — a former Premier, Baron Banffy, has seceded
from the Coalition, and has thereby given it an unexpected
blow. His reason for his action is that he cannot agree with
M. Kossuth, the leader of the Independence Party — by far the
most numerous of the Coalition Parties — in the latter's desire
to establish the merely personal union between Austria and
Hungary. Baron Banffy insists upon the maintenance of the
present arrangement, made in 1867, believing that the merely
personal union cannot be attained without bloodshed, and that
its realization would upset the equilibrium of Central Europe.
He will not cease, however, to combat the illegal Fejervary
Cabinet.
It is hard to decide whether, in this long contest, the Hun-
garians are actuated by the virtue or by the passion of patriot-
ism. The opinion which seems to be the more widely enter-
tained throughout Europe is that they are the victims of the
VOL. LXXXIII.— 9
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130 Current Events [Apri
passion, and that the demands upon which they have 1>eeii
so insistent are unreasonable, and such as the King could not
conscientiously grant/ even if he were willing. Moreover, the
conflict brought on by them is endangering the peace of Europe^
which requites for its stability the maintenance of the Austro-
Hungarian Power in its integrity. The Hungarians recognize
the existence of this feeling, and have sent representatives to-
several of the principal countries to justify their action. The
fundamental reason for the conflict is the belief entertained by
the Hungarians that Austria and its German element wish ta
make Hungary a part of Austria; with special privileges, it is
true, but still merely a province of the Empire. When Austria
was merely one of the many Duchies in the German Empire,
Hungary had been for a long time a kingdom with its own
line of kings, its own laws, its own constitution. It was never
a part of even the Holy Roman Empire. Its inhabitants are
not Germans, nor even Europeans. It freely chose the Em-
peror, who was also Archduke of Austria, to be its king, but
it preserved all its own rights. It never submitted itself to-
Austria or to the Austrians, and it never will. This is what
the Hungarians want to make clear now.
As in other respects, so with reference to universal suffrage,
what will be done in Hungary is altogether uncertain. For
the Cisleithanian part of the Empire the Universal Suffrage bill
has been introduced by the Austrian premier. Baron Gautsch,
The bill sweeps away the existent system, by which the electors
were divided into four categories or curia^ and places all the
electors on the same footing, except where racial considerations
necessitate special arrangement. Alterations are made in the
distribution of seats between the many various races, and these
alterations will leave the Germans in a permanent minority — a
thing which does not suit them at all. Broadly speaking, every
mate citizen who has completed his twenty-fourth year is en-
titled, under the provisions of the bill, to be registered as a
voter. Voting is to be direct and by the ballot, the freedom,
purity, and secrecy of which the premier brought in a bill to
secure. It is too soon to form a judgment as to the likeli-
hood of these bills becoming law.
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i9o6. ] Current B vents \ 3 1
The Rouvier Cabinet feH quite sud«^
France. denly. Its fall, however, was not
quite unexpected, for some days
before it had been defeated on the question of the time to be
devoted to the training of the reserves. This event affords ant
other instance of the instability involved in. the Continental
system of a multiplicity of parliamentary groups. Inistead of
the two stable parties opposed to one another, as has hitherto
been the case in Great Britain, there are on the Continent, as
a rule, something like a dozen sections, and a ministry depend^
for its existence upon its being able to please enough of these
to provide a majority for itself, and is defeated when any com-
mon ground of opposition can be found for forming a majority
against it. On this occasion the opponents consisted of those
who, on the one hand, considered that in making the inventories
of church goods the methods adopted were too violent, of those
who, on the other hand, thought that they were not violent
enough, and of still others who did not wish the General Elecr^
tion, which is at hand, to be " made " by the Rouvier ministry.!
The fierce resistance whiph has been offered in many parts
of France to the taking of the inventories shows that there are
still large numbers in France who are attached to the Faith,
and who are ready to defend it at all costs. Whether they
were justified in the manner of resisting, or wise in offering it,
may be questioned. Opinion seems to be greatly divided.
Some of the bishops have condemned active resistance, others
have been silent when silence is equivalent to approbation.
Laymen, like General Gallifet and M. Bruneti^re, have been
outspoken in inculcating the duty of submission. In the de-
bate in the Chamber, the Abb^ Lemire, while condemning
the use of armed forces and the provocative methods adopted
by the government, declared the taking of inventories to be a
measure of preserving the properties of the Church. In fact,
the provision in the Law of Separation requiring these inven
tories was inserted on the motion of an opponent of the Bill
for this very purpose. As to the resistance, however, the Abb^
said that it was creating a veritable public danger to stir up
so violent an agitation, because all persons of violent temper
would be drawn to take part in it. "The Divine Master of
the Catholics has recommended them to oppose meekness to
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132 Current Events [April,
violence I leave to certain Catholics the responsibility of
mixing politics with these matters." On the other hand, an-
other Abb^, the preacher of the Lenten Sermons at the Cathe-
dral of Notre Dame, in the presence of the Archbishop of
Paris, the Bishops of Oran and Soissons, and the Vicars-Gene-
ral of the diocese, is reported to have said : " No, no ; the
law is not always law. It is not always entitled to our obedi-
ence ; and there are cases in which rebellion is our most sacred
duty. I do not often adopt the maxims of the Revolution,
but this one is not unjust. . . . It is for you to prove, not
by eloquent speeches, but by your deeds, that you are men of
determination and character. It is for you to prove that you
are men and Christians, by proudly applying the motto of
' Liberty or Death.' "
Whatever may be thought with reference to the resistance
which is being offered, whether or no it is justifiable, great
good may come out of it. It has stirred up the country as
nothing else would have done, and thus may lead the Catho-
lics to take the legitimate way of undoing the evil which has
been done, by voting at the approaching General Election for
deputies who will repeal the Law of Separation. This should
be the ultimate outcome. The immediate result has only been
the accession to power of a ministry which includes M. Briand,
the reporter of the Separation Law, and the chief agent of its
enactment, and M. Clemenceau, one of the bitterest among the
many bitter enemies of the Church in France.
At the time that this is being writ-
The Conference on Morocco, ten the Conference at Algecirasis
still sitting, and has not come to
any conclusion. According to one report it is just on the point
of arriving at a settlement; according to another it is going to
separate at once without any result. It would be tedious to
narrate all the proceedings, nor have we space to spare. While
ostensibly a meeting of the Powers, it is in reality a contest
of Germany with France. What will be the outcome is only
known to an august personage in Berlin — whether he will ac-
cept defeat, or whether the matter will be pressed ultimately,
if not at once, to the arbitrament of war. For the French
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I906.J Current Events 133
V
psople, and not merely their government, seem determined to
make no more concessions. There seems but little ground for
hope of a peaceful settlement; the question of war or peace
will depend rather upon the prospects of success than upon the
justice of the claims made at the Conference. Meanwhile, the
Moors are laughing openly at the impotence of Christendom,
due to the divisions of the Christian Powers.
As we go to press we learn that
Spain. there has been yet another Cabi-
net crisis in Spain. These changes
are becoming so frequent as to cease to be interesting. What
is of more interest is the espousal of a princess connected
with the English Royal family to the King of Spain, for
this is the first instance for many generations of a marriage
of any member of the ruling house in England with any
sovereigns of the Latin countries. From the time of the revo*
lution, Germany and the northern Protestant States have been
the only countries with which alliances have been made. Con-
siderable opposition was made in England by Protestant zeal-
ots; the King was called upon to withhold his consent; but
men of good sense formed the vast majority who acquiesced
in the new alliance.
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jForei^n Ipetiobicals*
The Month (March) : Contains a retrospect of the work English
Catholics have done during the past seventy-five years
in the furtherance of education. Despite many and great
difficulties, and with but little aid from the government,
the Catholics have in less than a century built a thou-
sand schools. States the advantages* and dangers of
Catholic students at the English national universities.
The university affords a valuable training for many of
the professions, and makes for mental development and
the widening of the intellectual horizon. A moral at-
mosphere not always the best, indifference to religion
and the ascetic spirit, excessive admiration of athletic
achievements, materialistic tendencies, and a philoso-
phy not intended to give a metaphysical substructure to
revealed truths — these constitute a real risk to the Catholic
freshman. The writer in no pessimistic strain concludes
that the Catholics atthe universities are infinitely better off
than they would be if they went out immediately into the
world. The Catholic at Oxford is not without the aids
to religion, having his chapels, chaplains, and Catholic
societies; the right sort of Catholic boy at the university
will reject all that is bad and imbibe all that is good,
thus educating himself in the proper sense of the word.
Presents some "Extracts from the Papers of a
Pariah," edited by Rev. R. H. Benson. The first of
these extracts describes the emotions of fear, hope, and
penitence proposed by attendance at a requiem on All
Souls' Day. The second is on the dullness of irreligious
people. Outlines briefly Mr. Mallock's scheme for the
"Reconstruction of Belief." This latest production of
Mr. Mallock marks an advance in his thought, and is in
great part constructive; its purpose is to show the de-
fenders of religion how, if they will be sensible enough
to surrender the outposts which science has irrevocably
made its own, they may secure their position forever by
the simple policy of adopting the methods of their ad-
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i906.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 1 3 5
versaries and insisting that these be consistently ap-
plied. The reviewer, following Mr. Mallock in his treat-
ment of fundamental doctrines, finds the argumentation
defective at many points, and not more favorable to
Theism than to Pantheism ; and fears that the scheme
will not realize the ends Mr. Mallock intended.
The Tablet (24 Feb.): Pope Pius X. has addressed an En-
cyclical Letter to the Bishops, clergy, and people of
France. A translation of the full text is given in this
number. The Holy Father reviews in detail the ques-
tion of Church and State hostilities in France. He pro-
tests against the Law of Separation, reproves and con-
demns it as violating the natural law, the law of nations,
and fidelity to treaties; as contrary to the divine con-
stitution of the Church, to her essential rights, and to
her liberty; as destroying justice and trampling under
foot the rights of property which the Church has ac-
quired by many titles, and, in addition, by virtue of
the Concordat. An appeal is made for most perfect
union in heart and will between the Catholic clergy and
laity. It is the intention of the Holy Father to give,
at the proper time, definite directions which will afford
a sure rule of. conduct for French Catholics amid their
present difSculties. One thing at least the Law of Separ-
ation has done, and that is to free the Pope from any
interference in the matter of electing Bishops. It is an-
nounced that fourteen new members have been appointed
to fill the vacant French sees. This fact is noteworthy
as being the first independent election since the days
of Napoleon. It symbolizes the inauguration of a new
rigime.
Li^Correspondant (10 Feb.):. The results of the late general
election in England are given in an article entitled
" The Lesson of the English Elections." The author
says that the French Catholics should learn a lesson
from the non-Conformists of England, who, through
efifective organization, succeeded in defeating their oppo-
nents. The deeds and accomplishments of the Balfour
administration are reviewed and commented upon, and
a forecast of the policy of the new government is also
given. ^The third instalment of " The Catholic Renais-
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136 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [April,
sance in England in the Nineteenth Century " is a re-
view of the momentous events which preceded, char-
acterized, and followed in that country the Council of
1869. The author relates the parts played in the dis-
cussions on Papal Infallibility by such men as Newman,
Manning, Acton, Gladstone, and Oxenham, and the effect
that the promulgation of the dogma had upon the " Re-
union Movement" led by Pusey.
(25 Feb.): A sketch of the life of the late Oratorian,
Cardinal Perraud, who died on the 15th of February, is
contributed by M. Baudrillart. Besides the manifold
duties of his various ofSces, this distinguished prelate
devoted much of his time to the promotion of higher
studies. In June, 1882, his literary labors were rewarded
by his unanimous election as member of the French
Academy. Continuing his series of articles on "The
Catholic Renaissance in England in the Nineteenth Cen-
tury," M. P. Thureau-Dangin devotes this instalment to
a review of the events that characterized the incum-
bencies of Cardinals Newman and Manning.
jStudes (5 Feb.) : In this number M. Lebreton brings to a close
his series of studies on the theories of the logos at the
beginning of the Christian era. The theories discussed
in this concluding article are those of Greek and Egyp-
tian mythology and of three famous men, Plutarch, Philo,
and Marcus Aurelius. In the early Grecian philosophy
it is Zeus who is regarded as the logos, but in later
times, as we see in St. Justin, Hermes is the personified
word. The treatises of Cornutus and Heraclitus give
us evidences of this belief. The Egyptian ideas on this
subject are preserved for us in the works of Plutarch.
He gives the story of Isis and Osiris, and also the in-
terpretations of different Grecian schools. Under the
Ptolemies the Egyptian god Th6t took the place of the
Greek Hermes. Very little is given to the Philonian
Logos, except by way of showing the great resemblance
between it and the theory of Plutarch. Marcus Aurelius
taught a system that approached very closely to the
Christian. It seems strange that he was not converted
to the Christian religion as were Justin and Athenagoras
— to belief in the Incarnate Son of God, and turned
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i9o6.] Foreign Periodicals 137
away from the pagan conception of an incarnate reason,
or law of the universe.
(20 Feb): "The Roman Church and the Separation/'
by Paul Bernard. This article is important from the
fact that it manifests two entirely different states of
mind regarding the French religious crisis. First, the
opinions of non- Catholics; and secondly, the views of
loyal adherents to the Church. M. Paul Sabatier is
taken as the type of non- Roman. His recent brochure
is subjected to a very caustic criticism. Our reviewer
says he shows no scientific spirit or method, and that
his conclusions are wholly unwarranted in fact. Saba-
tier looks to the recreation of a new religion from the
wreckage of " Old Catholicism " ; furthermore, says that
the religion of the future will be ethical and social, not
Roman or Catholic. M. Bernard presents the orthodox
opinion of the present crisis. He admits it is for the
cleansing of the Church, and will in the end bring great
good and increase to the true fold.
La Quingaine (16 Feb.): A learned classical scholar, a literary
artist of Florentine refinement, an honor to Catholic
France, a serious and pious, a good and charitable wo-
man — such is the tribute paid, in this number, to Mme.
Lucie F. F. Goyau. Among the problems of perma-
nent bibliographical interest are the questions which arise
concerning De Lamennais' *' Paroles d'un Croyant." F.
Baumes adds a little light to these questions in discuss*
ing the style, composition, and editions of the work.
R. Saleilles concludes his extensive review of // Santo.
AnnaUs de Philosophie Chritienne (Feb.): M. F. Mallet writes
of the controversy stirred up among Catholics thirty
years ago by the apologetic method of Cardinal Des-
champs. This method would now be called the method
of immanence, and Cardinal Deschamps had to bear the
reproaches which the representatives of his style of think-
ing are contending with to-day. M. Laberthonni^re
criticises at length the Abb^ Riviere's historical study of
the dogma of Redemption. M. Riviere, after describing
the theological conflicts that were waged for centu^
as to the precise meaning of redemption, maintains^
St. Anselm's vicarious atonement theory is now
DigitJ
^38 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [April.
lished perfectly, and consequently there is an end of de-
velopment so far as this doctrine is concerned. M. La-
berthonni^re takes him to task for this, and asks sharply
what ground he has for selecting one theory and telling
us that it alone is true ? This is an intetnpirance dog^
matique. which is uncritical and unjustifiable. We, as well
as past ages, must continue the work of unfolding dogma.
Revue du Clergi Fran^ais (i Feb.): M Lenain takes up an
assertion recently made by M. Havet at a Congress of
Young Laics to the effect that the religious period of
humanity is drawing to an end. Many times has this
prophecy been made before; but every word of it has been
proved false by man's imperative need fo^ God. M.
Bourlon sketches the assemblies of the clergy under the
anciin rigime. M. Vaudon treats of the hardships that
will result to the clergy by the Separation Act, and says
that the priests of France need not despair. Country
priests may eke out their support with the help of a lit-
tle garden ; others must turn their attention to some sort
of measures for assuring themselves an income,
{[5 Feb.): M. F. Martin, who has in press a translation
of the Book of Enoch, summarizes the theological teach*
ing of that remarkable composition. Incidentally he
expresses his astonishment at Jtilicher's belittling of this
book, perhaps the most remarkable of all the extra-
canonical apocalyptic literature. M. E. Martin writes
of the White Fathers of the Sahara. He claims that
. .. although the Arab of the desert is devotedly attached to
Islam, the project of converting him to Christianity is
by no means hopeless. M. Bourgine criticizes the con-
tention recently put forward by M. Sorel that the Gospel-
teaching is only for anchorites and ascetics. M. Bourgine
.shows that the Gospel, on the contrary, furnishes the
best remedy for every individual and social need of man.
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THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION
RECENT advices from Rome announce that two historical works of much
importance and interest are being written from the documents in the
secret Vatican archives and will soon be published by the Vatican Press.
Both were started at the express wish of Pope'Leo XIII.
Father Rinieri, S.J., is giving the finishing touches to the history of the
personal relations existing between the first Napoleon and Pope Pius VII.
In order to do this, he had to consult, besides the Vatican archives, the
documents preserved in the National Archives of Paris, Vienna, and Rome,
and has succeeded in discovering the original diplomatic correspondence ex-
changed between the French government and the Holy See before and after
the coronation of the French Emperor in Paris at the hands of the Pope.
Father Rinieri says the documents show that much that has been told by
historians regarding the relations of the first Napoleon with the Holy See is
based on misrepresentations of the papers of that period, and that even
prominent writers have been deceived in their views by contemporary ac-
counts of the events.
Count Soderini, who was charged to write the history ot the ending of the
temporal power of the Popes, has completed the history of events which took
place under Pius IX., and is now at work putting the finishing touches on the
happenings under the last pontificate.
Count Soderini is, perhaps, the only living historian who has been al-
lowed to read so many contemporary documents of the Vatican archives^
which are generally kept under lock and key for fifty years at least after the
death of a pope.
Pius X., from the beginning of his Pontificate, has continued the policy
inaugurated by Leo XIII. over twenty years ago of allowing scholars from all
nations free access to the treasury of historical documents which the Vatican
contains. England, Germany, Austria, Spain, Switzerland, Portugal have
each a select body of workers engaged on the bulls, briefs, apostolic constitu-
tions, ^tate documents, etc., which serve to throw light on the history of those
countries. The labors of the Prussian delegation alone already amount to
seventeen octavo volumes of 500 pages each. The Gorres-Gesellschaft has
published the first two volumes of its monumental work on the Council of
Trent. The French school at Rome has issued fourteen quarto volumes of
the Acts of the Popes, The French priests attached to San Luigi dei Francesci
are working hard on the Nunciatures of France. England is represented
officially in the Archives by Mr, Bliss, and Mr. Rushforth, of Oriel College,
Oxford, has published the first volume of Papers of the British School at Rome^
on behalf of the society founded in 1901 to study the historical relations be-
tween the. Holy See and England. There is a Belgian commission working in
the archives under Berliere ; Holland has Dr. Brom and Professor Orbaan ;
Norway and Sweden are represented by Dr. Bergstand ; Finland by Drs.
Biaudet and Thorne; Poland by Ptasnik and Zahrewski; Russia by Pierling
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I40 The Columbian Reading Union [April,
and Schmourlo. Mgr. Fraknoi, Titular Bishop of Arba, is at the head of a
HuQgarian Commission appointed to study the Monumenta Hungariae Vati-
cana. Last year one of the most assiduous of the workers was Horvat, who
was engaged on the relations of the Croats with the Holy See. Professors
Krofta and Krejcik were studying Bohemian history. Even Japan was re-
presented by Naejiro Murakami, and Turkey sent Chakh Fariol el Kazen to
study the relations of the Ottoman Empire with the Grand-Duchy of Tuscany
in the seventeenth century. Pastor, the German historian, and Duchesne,
t^resident of the French school, may be seen sitting side by side together in
the archives any morning. Other well-known names of laborers in the Vati-
can this year are Professor Dengel, of the University of Innspruck; Dr,
Kehr, of the Prussian Institute; Dr. Chabot and the Ahh6 Constans, Mgr«
Ehses, head of the Goerresian Society; the learned Father Eubel, and the
Marquis MacSwiney. Besides these, many of the religious orders, Benedic-
tines, Franciscans, Dominicans, Carthusians, and Jesuits, have some of their
picked men engaged in ferreting out historical points connected with their
own institutions. Italy is the only one of the great European Powers which
is not represented in the Vatican archives.
• • •
To the iate Henry Harland, novelist, and a convert to the true faith, who
died in San Remo, Italy, on December 20, 1905, in his forty-fourth year, a
writer in the Catholic Universe pays the following deserved tribute :
The untimely death of Henry Harland will be regretted by all who have
enjoyed the peculiarly delicate flavor ot his work. The CardinaPs Snuff' Box^
The Lady Paramount, and My Friend Prospero, are like bits of egg-shell
china, light, fragile, and dainty. They are too pretty to express life as it is,
but are products of very careful and exquisite workmanship, and perhaps
fulfil better than stronger fiction the real purpose of the novelist, which is to
please, to amuse, to suggest the finer and more beautiful aspects of life. Mr.
Harland was an idealist, possibly a sentimentalist, but he has the distinction
of dealing with none but delightful men and women, and none but the most
wholesome of human emotions, and these at their best. He found life so full
of lovely impulses that he never discovered the ugly ones, nor thought it
necessary to use his art in the depiction of vice. He was a convert to the
Catholic faith, and its beauty and picturesqueness so appealed to his instinct
for the beautiful that all his later novels were frankly and artistically Catho-
lic. His work as a story-teller was in all respects so pure, so charming, and
so agreeable that the world could much better afford to lose many writers of
greater power and genius.
Mr. Harland was born in St. Petersburg, but spent his early years in
New York, and at the beginning of his literary career wrote under the pen
name of Sydney Luska. Of recent years he has lived entirely abroad, and
had a residence in London. His American home was in Norwich, Conn.
Mr. Harland's books, at least since his conversion to the Church, were of
the purest. The Casket, describing them, says : There was no preaching, no
tiresome moralizing ; but religion was always put in its proper light, pouring
sunshine into the lives of men and women, warming their hearts to deeds of ,
kindness, and influencing all their most important actions. If every Catholic
who has read the novels of Henry Harland will now breathe a prayer for the
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i9o6.] THE Columbian Reading Union. 141
repose of his soul they will be making him the best return they can for the
pleasure he has given them.
•' • ' , •
For some students of Irish music we give, by request^ the following ref-
erences to standard works :
The complete Petrie Collection of 1800.
Irish Airs. Published for the Irish Literary Society, 1903.
The Minstrelsy of Ireland (200 songs). By Alfred Moffat.
History of Irish Music. By W. H. Grattan Flood.
Irish Folk Songs. Words by Alfred Percival Graves ; music arranged
by Charles Wood,
Ancient Music of Ireland. By £dw. Bunting. 3 vols. 1796, 1809, and
4840.
Collection of the Society for the Preservation of Irish Music » By. G,
Petrie. 1855,
Fifty Songs of Old Ireland. Words by Alfred Percival Graves; music
arranged by Charles V. Stanford.
Ancient Irish Music. By Dr. Joyce.
The Irish Song Book, By Graves.
The Irish Element in Mediceval Culture. By Professor Heinrich Zim-
mer, in the Preussische Jahrbucher^ of January, 1887.
• • •
Reports of the attendance at the New York free lectures in the five
boroughs, given under the auspices of the Board of Education during Octo-
ber, November, and December, 1905, have been compiled, and the results
show that 475,058 persons attended during the three months. This is an in-
crease of over 11,000 over the figures for the same months during 1904. In
view of this increasing demand for adult education, many new courses of lec-
tures have been arranged in all boroughs.
Thirty-seven courses of from six to thirty lectures each were arranged
by Dr. Leipziger. At Columbus Hall, Sixtieth Street, Charles Johnston be-
gan his course on '* The Making of the Irish People"; Dr. J. P. Gordy, of
New York University, six lectures on ** Representative Statesmen"; William
Farley four lectures on ** The Government of European Countries " ; Dr.
Walter E. Clark, of the City College, on "Money and Banking"; Clarence
de Veaux Royer, oil " Composers of Music."
Mr. Charles Johnston began his studies of Irish history under the dom-
ination of his stern father, well-known in the House of Commons as ** Mr*
Johnston, of Ballykilbeg," who was a vigorous opponent of the Irish Parlia-
mentary Party. Having convinced himself by long reading that he could not
affiliate with the policy of the Orangemen, Mr. Charles Johnston is now a valiant
defender of Ireland's history as presented by the late John Mitchel and other
impartial historians. His recent book. The Story of Ireland^ is published
by Houghton, Mifflin & Co., and should have a place in every school library,
side by side, with the approved histories of England. The larger work of Dr.
Joyce, entitled The Household History of Ireland^ and his condensed volume,
The Concise History of Ireland^ published by Longmans, Green & Co., are
still held in high esteem and must be consulted by all who wish to know the
latest developments of critical research*
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142 The Columbian Reading Union [April,
A circular issued by the State officers of the Ancient Order •£ Hibernians
of New York says :
We are greatly encouraged by the reports we are receiving from localities
and parish schools, as to the progress made in the study of ** Irish History.'*
The hearty co-operation which we are receiving from the clergy, and the
earnest efforts of the iteachers and others in charge, cannot but be con-
ducive to the advancement of this important subject. In connection with
this matter, it occurs to your officers that this subject can and should
be recognized by the officials of the State department of education,
and granted a certain number of counts toward a certificate. Is there
any reason why Irish History should receive less consideration than Eng-
lish History, or Roman History, or Grecian History? All these are elec-
tives in the various high schools of the State, and receive a certain num*
ber of counts toward the State certificates. If this were done, the pupil tak-
ing up the study of Irish History would add to his store of knowledge and at
the same time gain a material increase in the number of counts toward the
certificate he is striving for. Pupils should be encouraged to become familiar
with the history of the land of their forefathers, and, as an incentive, prizes
should be offered for those becoming most proficient in the study. We
would recommend that suitable prizes be furnished by the County Boards.
Hon. James E. Dolan, the National President of the Ancient Order of
Hibernians, is a fine type of his race. His work in urging the study of Irish
History, and in forming special night schools, has met with remarkable success.
• • •
Miss Louise Imogen Guiney has found a congenial subject for her gifted
pen in the study of Richard Hurrell Froude, published by E. P. Button & Co.
His name is less known to this generation in connection with the Oxford
movement than are some others — Newman's and Pusey's and Keble's, for in-
stance. Yet he had much influence on the thought of the time and on several
who were leaders. Newman calls him a pupil of Keble's, ''formed by him
and reacting on him," a man of the highest gifts, gentle and tender of nature.
He died prematurely, in 1836, the oldest of eight sons, of whom James An*
thony Froude was the youngest. Miss Guiney's book, which she does not
call a biography, though in effect it is one, is a sympathetic account of his
life, his character, and his work. It necessarily throws much light on the in-
tellectual and religious activities of the time in England, which are so impor*
tant a part of the last century's intellectual history.
There is much in the book to illumine Froude's strong and thoroughly
manly spirit, his deep religious feeling, his "fierce sincerity." There are
copious quotations from his letters and journals, some of the latter of an ex-
tremely intimate character. He became a tutor in Oriel with Newman, and,
with him, was dispossessed for his uncompromising zeal in the Tractarian
movement, which was repugnant to the Provost of the college. But he never
went over to Rome. His belief was, as his brother James Anthony has re-
corded, that the Church should be '' unprotestantized." The Reformation
was a '' bad setting of a broken limb." The limb needed breaking a second
time, and then it would be equal to its business. But Hurrell Froude's life
was all too short to accomplish its work. He would have been taught the
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i9o6.] The Columbian Reading Union 14J
difference between fact and speculation, said his brother, if he had livedJ^
He did live long enough to make a deep impression, to reveal himself as a
man of power, but one whose influence on others lived after him through
them.
Miss Guiney's first part tells the story of his life, with frequent auto*
biographic reinforcement from his own papers. The second part is given up
to reprinting comments on him and his relation to the Oxford movement
from the very considerable body of literature on the subject.
• • •
From New Orleans comes the twenty-third annual report of the Society of
the Holy Ghost, having " as one of its objects extension of knowledge concerning
God the Holy Ghost, and the extension of particular devotion to him."
Our books, says the report, show that from Pentecost, 1904, to Pentecost
Sunday of 1905 we have received from members, etc., $2469.65, as against $1,-
755.75 from this same source for the annual term just preceding, and $1,246.25
for the one ending Pentecost Sunday, 1903. We are glad to be able to record,
likewise, a steady advance in the volume of our free tract distribution, the record
for the year just concluded showing that during its course the society has sent
oat about 108,250 books, pamphlets, tracts, and leaflets, as against 101,000 for
the year preceding, this being an increase of 7,250. It will be observed that
during the last year free distribution of Catholic literature has been at the rate of
9,250 pieces per month, and for each day 318. Since the society's foundation,
twenty-three years ago, its distribution in this line has reached over $3,000,000.
Our financial report shows during the year just terminated $547 sent to mis-*
sionary priests in the country, as against $482.90 for the year immediately pre-
ceding, and $373 for the one ending Pentecost Sunday, 1903.
These sums are sent for Masses, which are offered up by the worthy mis-
sionaries assisted for our members, living and dead, as provided for by the rules
of our society.
The roll of this society includes now the names of 361 members, as against
350 shown at the date of our last annual report, a net increase of membership for
the year of 11.
M. C. M
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Cbaslbs Scribner's Sons, New York :
The Opal Sea : Continued Studies and Impressions and Appearances. By John C. Van
Dyke. Pp. xvi.-26a. Price $1.25 net. Postage extra.
G, P. Putnam's Sons, New York :
Jesus and the Prophets, By Charles S. Macfarland, Ph.D. Introduction by Frank K.
Sanders, Ph.D., D.D. I*p. xvi.-249.
Longmans, Green & Co., New York :
Lift of Sir John Gilbert, LL.D., P.S^A.; Irish Historian and Archivist. Vice-President of
the Royal Irish Academy, Secretary of the Public Record Office of Ireland. By his
wife, Rosa MulhoUand Gilbert. With Portraits and Illustrations. Pp. 461. Price $$.
Letters from the Beloved Citv, Rev. Kenelm Digby Best. Reissue. Pp. 134. Price
50 cents. The Subjection of Women. By John Stuart Mill. Edited, with Introductory
Analysis, by Stanton Coit, Ph.D. Pp.128. Price 40 cents. The Tradition of Scripture,
Its Origin, Authority, and Interpretation. By Rev. William Barry, D.D. Pp. xIx.-otS.
Price $1.20.
Bbnzigbr Brothers. New York :
The Unseen World: An Exposition of Catholic Theology in its Relation to Modem
Spiritism. By the Rev. Father Alexius M. L^picier, O.S.M. Pp.284. Price $1.60.
St. Fnuuis of Assisi, Social Rejotmer, By Leo L. Dubois, S.M. Pp. 250. Price $1.
Ancient Devotions for Holy Communion. Prom Eastern and Western Liturgical Sources.
Compiled by S. F. C, with an Introduction by Abbot Gasquet, D.D. Pp. 179. Price
$1. Leather, $1.50. The Holy Season of Lent. By Rev. F. Girardey, C.SS.K. Price
25 cents. Confession and Its Benefits. By Rev. F. Girardey, C.SS.R. Price 25 cents.
Fr. Pustet & Co., New York:
The Crux of Pastoral Medicine. By Rev. Andrew Klarmann, A.M. Second Revised
and Enlarged Edition. Price $1.35 net. Postpaid. Kyriale Romanum, Pp. 95.
Price 2$ cents net.
William H. Young & Co., New York:
An Introduction to the Catechism, Ygt infant classes and for some converts. )3y the Rev.
Thomas O'Keeffe.
B. W. HUEBSCH, New York:
Christian Origins, By Otto Pfleiderer, D.D. Translated from the Grerman by Daniel A.
Huebsch, Ph.D. Pp. 295. Price $1.75 net. Postage 12 cents.
New York Co-operative Society, New York :
The Two Hundred and Fiftieth Anniversary of the Settlement of the Jews in the United
States — 16SS-190S' Pp. xiii.-262.
Society op St. Vincent db Paul, New York :
The Vincent de Paul Quarterly. Subscription 50 cents per year.
Sunday-School Times, Philadelphia:
The Making of a Teacher. By Martin G. Brumbaugh, Ph.D., L.L.D. Second Edition.
Price, postage included, $1 net retail.
Little, Brown & Co., Boston Mass. :
Hearts and Creeds. By Anna Chapin Ray. Illustrated. Price $1.50.
Laird & Lee, ChicaTO :
The Standard Webster Pocket Dictionary. Compiled by Alfred B. Chambers. A.M.
Leather Bound. Price 35 cents.
Carey & Co., London. England:
Qttholic Hymns. Original and Translated, with Accompanying Tunes. Edited by A.
Edmonds Tozer. New and Enlarged Edition.
Wells, Gardiner, Darton & Co., 3 Paternoster Buildings, London, E. C. :
The Truth of Christianity : Being an examination of the more important arguments for
and against believing in that religion. Compiled from various sources by Lieutenant-
Colonel iW. H. Thurston, [D.S.O., Royal Engineers. Fifth Edition. Pp. 529.
Price 2J 6d,
Emilb Paul, Editeur, Paris :
Le Conventionnel Pfieur de la Mame en Mission dans V Quest (1793-1794)* By M. Pierre
Bliard. Pp. 452. Price 5 francs.
Gabriel Bbauchesue et Cie., Paris:
La Providence et le Miracle Devant le Science Modeme. By Gaston Sortais. Pp. 100.
Price ^francs 50. Oeuvres Oratoires du Pire Henri Chamoellan^ S.J. Pp. 582, Pnce
/^francs.
Victor Lecopprb, 90 Rue Bonaparte, Paris:
Au Sortif deVEcole: Les Patronages, Fourth Edition. Revue et Augment^e. Par Max
Turman. Pp. xvi.-434.
F^Lix Alcon, 108 Boulevard St. Germain, Paris :
Le Problhne du Devenir et la Notion de la Matihe dans la Philosophie Grecque Depuis Us
Origines jusqu d^ Thiofhraste. Par Albert Rivaud. Pp. viii.-488. Limitation de Jisus-"
Christ. Traduction Nouvelle. Pr^c^dde d'une Introduction ; suivie d'une nomenclature
des emprunts de V Imitation; de la Traduction du Livre sur le Sacrament de I'Eucharis-
tie. Par le Chancelier de Marillac, reraani^e et amend^e, etc.
J. H. FURST Company, Baltimore :
The Ten Nequdoth of the Torah; or. The Meaning and Purpose of the Extraordinary Points
of the Pentateuch (Massoretic Text). A Contribution to the History of Textual Criticism
among the Ancient Jews. By Remain Butin, S.M., S.T.L. A Dissertation submitted
to the Faculty of Philosophy of the Catholic University of America in conformity with
the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy. Pp. 136.
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THE
CATHOLIC WORLD,
Vol. LXXXIII. MAY, 1906. No. 494.
DANTE AND THE SPIRIT OF POETRY.*
BY WILLIAM BARRY. D.D.
'HEN I name the name of Dante, a formida-
ble word suggested by iEscbylus hums in my
brain,
"There is the sea, who shall exhaust its
wealth?"
"Ea^iv ddXaa-a-a, tw 8/ viv KaraaPeaei ;
{Agam. 958.)
The sea of Dantean commentary ; the deeper depths of the poet
himself, who intended that his readers should, in their long
voyage, explore the mysteries concealed in symbol, imagery,
and metaphor, " beneath the veil of rhymes so strangely blent."
Assuredly I do not dream that in these few minutes of gazing
from the shore on all that purple of light and dark waves the
secret of Dante may be laid bare. Yet I have thought it would
not be unprofitable if we considered how the greatest of medi-
eval singers apprehended the spirit of poetry — that most in-
tense, characteristic, and musical faculty of seizing on the uni-
verse which we so call — and in what way his idea has been
wrought out.
Let me, from the first, utter my strong conviction that every
real poem is a thing sui generis^ a, creation stamped with its
♦The rhyming quotations are taken from Dean Plumptre's version of the Divina
Cfmwudia and the Minor Poems\ as arranged by him.
Copyright. 1906. The Missionary Society op St. Paul the Apostle
IN THE State of New York.
VOL. LXXXIII.— 10
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146 Dante and the Spirit of Poetry [May,
creator's image ; wherefore, the more exalted its maker, so much
more likely is it to prove unique. Beyond all other men the
poet is himself. He cannot be an average, or an echo ; he is
not even a plagiary, though he take and appropriate the spoils
of a previous world ; for he knows the charm by which to feed
a fuller life out of the flames that lesser men kindle. Himself
to himself the poet sings, as in a lone land where sky and sun,
streams and woods, and all they nourish, are for his delight.
But now mark the wonder. This being, so set apart, cannot
open his lips, breathing his hidden thoughts, but he is an-
swered by innumerable souls, who find in those accents their
comfort, in those meditations what they have ever believed, in
the strange yet familiar music a rhythm to which the best that
is in them vibrates. The verses whereof our enduring world-
poems are compacted, though inimitable, moulded once for all
by a spirit that passes on and has no second, ring true along
the centuries, outliving kingdoms, races, civilizations. We have
heard these high commonplaces often, but they will bear to be
repeated. The Greeks, we are taught, have perished, while
Homer abides; Virgil is ever young, but the Roman Empire
which he celebrated is only a name. Dante, also, sits among
the immortals, for he is the voice of mediaeval Christendom,
more expressive than its miracles of architecture, its paintings
in devout, clear colors, its schools and sects of wisdom ; he
remains, it has been said, its least antiquated achievement, and
will be so ages hence. But the universal Dante was in his own
time the most solitary of men, not like any other, simply and
absolutely himself.
That is true as regards every one who has wrought some-
thing unique. We own it in our desire to learn more and
more of Dante, Shakespeare, Milton, Sophocles, Homer; while
these, as though marble gods, keep silent lips about their do-
ings and baffle our curiosity. We know and know not. Take
the Florentine, for instance. All his writings bring us close ta
him and are leaves from a full note- book, crammed with ex-
periences, to aches of local interest, the poet's journal for twenty
years, nay, begun when he was a lad in his teens — see the
first of the Sonnets, " To each enamored soul, each gentle heart "
— they come down to the last sojourn at Ravenna. Yet can wc
boast that we have broken through the fence of briar-roses and
entered the secret chambers of his dream? He is always the
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I906.] DANTE AND THE SPIRIT OF POETRY 147
master, we his disciples attached but awe- stricken ; and there
is the sea again !
We learn so much as he tells us, no more. The poets who
stand highest, who reward the student most richly, will be al-
ways the most exacting. How should they not be ? Caesar,
in the play, glances towards Cassius and murmurs:
He reads much;
He is a great observer, and he looks
Quite through the deeds of men.
This, I take it, was Shakespeare's own judgment on the uses
of reading. Literature, he would say, gives a wide and deep
insight into the nature of men and things ; else it sinks to an
amusement, serves for a cheap stimulant, or is a passive enter-
taining of shows which come and go. Milton knew that the
poet's life-blood must circulate in his poem, were it not doomed
to be still-born. Would he have granted that a listless holiday
reader is the audience for which it was created ? In the right
energetic mood, therefore, let us be thankful that Dante needs
to be studied; that we must put our life into his pages if we
are to take out of them what they hold of humanity, of light,
wisdom, joy, and strength. The end which all such poetry
fixes in its view is deliverance^ to be set free from illusion by
entering into the eternal order of the world and becoming one
with it. Never, certainly, did any musician better understand
the key-note of his composition, or dwell on it more insistently
than this deliberate genius, in whom the gift we term inspira-
tion appears as reasoning and art. He controls passion to his
purpose ; trains intuition by the largest knowledge his time had
acquired ; reads into every incident which befalls him a divine
significance. He sees friends, enemies, lovers, craftsmen, poli-
ticians, warriors, Church and State, Italy, Rome, Florence, all
things whatsoever, in the gleam of eternity. The world lies
before him enchanted and supernatural. But he sees true, and
the crowd sees false. He judges because he has seen "quite
through the deeds of men." It is insight, not calculation; the
ranks, vestures, dignities, heraldic trappings, in which authority
is clothed or from which poverty is shut out, detain him not
an instant; the soul itself appears naked before him. Such men,
Caesar concludes, are dangerous. They seldom come to good
in this world.
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148 Dante and the Spirit of Poetry [May,
Thus Dante found in his own spirit the source at once of
poetry and of sorrow. He was born to it, as the sparks fly up
ward. Subtle thinker, using the dialect of philosophy with ease,
yet his element — I pray you, mark — was passion, or, as he
more aptly terms it, after Aristotle and Plato, it was love!
" O Love, that with my soul doth converse hold ! " he exclaims,
striking the chord to which all his music thrills and answers,
even in the dolorous abyss. With senses keen and exquisite
he blends a power of fantasy, of shaping his dreams while yet
awake, that gives them solid dimensions more than equalling
real objects, as to most of us they appear. Nor is that all.
Into this imagination feeling descends with violence, setting it
aflame; great ideals of good or evil shine upon it as stars or
balefires that sometimes "would the multitudinous seas incar-
nadine," or turn them to a lower heaven of purest light. The
transformation is ever in the poet, who elicits from that which
stands in front of him a living action, by the magic of his touch,
his glance, his all-embracing intellect. He transfigures, but to
its eternal form, the mere outward of experience, and worships
at his own shrine. Such is the " love that in his soul doth
converse hold." It is the concentration of energy, passion at a
white heat, glowing from within.
Do we ask a proof? Dante has written the Vita Nuova;
just as Shakespeare wrote the Sonnets, Infinite discussion moves
yet round the inquiry whether a real or an imaginary person
was the subject of these reveries, so deeply weighted in either
case with reflection, so full of musing and melancholy. For
my part, I am sure that they spring out of the soil of life;
nothing will ever persuade me to look on them as exercises in
rhyme. But the object of worship gave only an occasion; it
need not have been, as philosophers distinguish terms, a real
effective cause. That Beatrice dei Portinari, whom Dante saw
as a child, whom he served at a distance with silent chivalry ;
we know her, I say, transfigured. She inspires her devout
client from afar, as though a pictured saint. There is no ques-
tion of marriage in this world between them. But the won-
der- working love was in him; the tender pity which fancies
her dying and weeps (Canzone iv.) ; the long requiem- chant of
his bereaved years; the resolve to canonize her as none save
the Madonna had ever been, in a glory of Paradise (Canzone
vii.; Sonnet xxxi.). So Beatrice is Dante's creation. He rcc-
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i9o6.] Dante and the Spirit of Poetry 149
kons his " new life," rightly indeed, from the day when he first
set eyes on her, Ecce Deus fortior me, qui veniens dominabitur
mihi ; lo, the god mightier than he that must overcome ! Truly
it was so; but the god had found a poet in whom to take up
his abode.
For most men, I believe, there is a moment of supreme in-
spiration, when they catch a glimpse of love in youth; it is
gone like the lightning, and they are common ^lay ooce more.
In Dante the moment stayed ; it grew to be the imaginative rap-
ture which Plato has glorified in his Phcedrus^ winning the vie*
tory over death by an exaltation of love. From seeming death
to life without end ; and this by faith t To that ecstasy the
Vita Nuova springs up, pauses on it, promises a grander fulfil-
ment. Read the second Canzone, which has well been styled
the l^uds of Beatrice. That and the passionate Sonnets^ form
the prologue in Florence, the overture to an Apocalypse whii^h
is conceived after .the Christian fashion, as triumphant when
grief and sin have done their worst. Without such a prelude
we could never pierce into the meaning, for it is no mere al-
legory, but stern and happy e^cperience, the redemption of a
soul, that our elect of lovers has shadowed forth in his pil-
grimage from this world to that which is to come. There is
nothing like it in Shakespeare; and how far below it stands
Goethe's too-sensupus, too- earthly "Faust"?
The Platonic rapture, the pilgrim's journey, the knight's
quest; it is, in loftiest rhyme, another rendering of that idea
which haunted the Middle Ages, and of which in the Morte
d' Arthur we read the prose-romance. Observe how in these
epics chivalry mingles with religion and is sanctified by it;
how adventures that end for spirits like Sir Lancelot in the
whirlwind and purple-dark air of the doomed lovers, bring Sir
Percival or the true Sir Galahad to a vision of the Sangreal
and the Divine Peace. This one immense thought lay brood-
ing over Christendom during well-nigh a thousand years. It
takes palpable shape in St, Augustine's City of God. But every-
where it implies a descent into the darkness; a journey to-
wards the light; a revelation not vouchsafed to all; and, vast
as it spreads, it is yet the solitary spirit that must lay hold of
that idea or perish. The pilgrim travels alone, though not
without a guide whose trial is over. These were the colors,
ancient and popular, which Dante made his own with sovereign
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ISO Dante and the Spirit of Poetry [May,
mastery. Nothing in them was private or exclusive; he plucked
them, so to speak, out of the general atmosphere. But by
their means he created a Vita Novissima^ of which he became
the hero, led on by his star ; se tu segui tua Stella^ said in the
shades Brunetto Latini, prophesying of his fame; and to the
like effect Cacciaguida in Paradise, who exhorted him that he
should never heed the "slings and arrows of outrageous for-
tune" {Inf. XV.; Pat. xvii.). As the chivalrous quest demands,
he remains always in view. The Christian epic, it appears,
could not be otherwise imagined. It is a soul's tragedy, the
return of an exile; repentance, purification, reconcilement.
But it is also Dante's life in a parable. " He apprehends a
world of figures," for in this medium the prophet moves. No
plain, unvarnished style can utter the message he brings. When,
therefore, Beatrice is lost by an early death to her servitor;
when he has felt the horror of great darkness, doubting (as
he tells us in the Banquet that he did) whether Church and
religion were true; when he has fallen below the standard
which heroic youth sets itself; and has come to "the mid-
pathway of our mortal life " ; at five and thirty he is found
among the pilgrims who thronged at Eastertide, in the mem-
orable year 1300, to the Jubilee at Rome proclaimed by Pope
Boniface VIII. In that Holy Week the spirit, we may boldly
affirm, came upon him and he prophesied. There his Divine
Comedy — ironical, suggestive name! — opens in the wood of this
world, *' wild, drear, and tangled o'er," the gloomy forest where
Knights of the Cross have often lost themselves, as he had
now. By the kind of foreshortening proper to dreams, past and
future mingle; his exile from the "fair fold" {Par. xxv.), to
be accomplished within three years, already casts its shadow
about him. Bitter, proud, and sad, loving yet hating Florence
(unjust stepmother to her greatest son), at war in his own
mind, he must choose either everlasting anarchy, with Lucre-
tius and all doubters, or the way of peace. He chooses and
becomes the singer of Christian faith, the Catholic Homer, the
new Virgil of a Holy Roman Empire. Rome, ever august, pre-
destined to the sceptre and the keys, the high portal of both
worlds, is made the copious matter of his song.
Two special Italian qualities mark him out among the su-
preme. He conceives of all truth in a form palpable to touch
and sight; essentially, therefore, real, yet at the same time
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i9o6.] Dante and the Spirit of Poetry 151
symbolical ; he is picturesque not abstract in his dealing. And
he knows how to bestow on that form a greatness of expres-
sion, such as we meet afterwards in his fellow- citizen, Michael
Angelo, in Leonardo da Vinci, in Titian. He is often quaint,
and so betrays the mediaeval, childlike temper; but he is con-
stantly sublime in his single strokes, massive and weighty lines
(almost, we might call them, the artist's epigrams), and his
concrete designs. His prevailing mood does not allow of hu-
mor; in those other great artists there is none. The bur-
lesque touches of some late cantos in the Inferno rather offend
or terrify than amuse. His play is cruel — read, the encoun-
ter with Filippo Argenti {Inf. viii.); his satire passes into
irony, scathing as flakes of fire, above all when it smites his
aative town. He is subject to fits of rage and scorn, to la
rabbia^ as Boccaccio represents him in real life ; but; they are
prompted by the sense of justice. For "oppression roaketh
the wise man mad " ; and never did any spirit love righteous-
ness or hate iniquity more than he. Freedom, established on
the divine law, that was his life-long . aspiration. It finds ful-
filment when Virgil, his guide and master, bids him farewell,
in Eden's glades, the tim^ of novitiate ended :
Look not for me to signal or to speak ;
Free, upright, healthy, is thine own will now.
And not to do as it commands were weak;
So, crowned and mitred, o'er thyself rule thou.
{Purg. xxvii.)
Innocence, never lost, or by penitence recovered, within ;
freedom without; such, according to our poet, is the high
mark towards which he presses forward; the goal to which
all things move, though multitudes by their own fault may
swerve aside and drop into fathomless ruin. He believes that
choice determines fate, often with eloquent philosophy teach-
ing free-will its power, in strains as lucid as they are ravish-
ingly sweet {Purg, xvi; Par. iv., vii., xix.). Hence, he can
be turned from evil if he will, and the Via Terribi/e upon
which he goes is for him a ladder of hope. Take note again
how this poetry is real, no feigning of capricious images, but
severely truthful. It deals in the depths and heights with laws
of the Eternal, with facts and those unchallenged by the wis-
est, as Dante felt. Would he have given twenty years, in
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152 Dante and the Spirit of Poetry [May,
banish ment, poverty, heart-devouring grief, to the mere delight
of stringing syllables in a measure and painting genre sketches,
which meant no more than they said or showed ? Impossible!
The song and its meaning make up one unparalleled living
whole, to the poet himself a revelation. So we can grasp it
as he gave it; or else it forfeits the claim which Aristotle
made for epic and tragedy, that it is the most philosophical
of writings and the most serious {Poetics, 9). In a figure, I
say and concede; but have we any wisdom which is not fig-
urative? And the poet's imagery appeals to all, because it
gives delight.
Now, holding this clue, it would be time to follow the
traveler; yet there is something else. Who shall serve as
dramatis persona to this Miracle Play ? Dante, Beatrice, Vir-
gil — yes ; heavenly messengers, saints and prophets ot old ;
the powers of Nature symbolized from Greek mythology;
powers of evil lurking in the unseen; a great and strange as-
sortment ; be it so ; yet these are not enough. His own time
shall furnish characters, good and bad; those storm shaken
centuries which were then culminating in the strife between
Philip of France and Boniface VIII., a turning point soon to
be marked by the translation of the Papacy from Rome to
Avignon. For it was the end of an age {Purg. xx.; '*! in
Alagna see the fleur de lys,'' and the rest). But he who saw
quite through the deeds of men saw the men themselves, each
alone, and passed sentence on thenif Like Aristophanes, he
names their names, holds up to view their vices, virtues, weak-
nesses, leaves them visible six hundred years afterwards, in
that enamel which, it would seem, no length of days can wear
out or subdue to faded colors.
Herein he differs from the charming allegorist, Spenser, who
weaves devices that have now only the attraction of his fan-
tasy; whereas, in the Divina Commedia we yearn over living
creatures and know them for our flesh and blood. So they
acted, so they suffered; they are not inventions of the poet's
brain. Their dates may be read in the calendar. What a
thrill it gives to learn that Francesca of Rimini and Ugolino
of Pisa died in the same year ! How we are moved when the
repentant soul in the Putgatorio cries : " I am Manfredi ! "
And we call to mind the fair-faced, brilliant, unhappy, and
•«^n^on son of Frederick the Emperor, whose excommunicate
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i9o6.] Dante and the Spirit of Poetry 153
bones are bleaching by Verde's banks, though his spirit be
saved. Then there is Cavalcanti among the heretics in those
burning tombs {Inf, x.); Cavalcanti, whose youthful son, Guido,
was Dante's dearest friend and exiled by him. '' What a sad
world where these things can happen t " we say to ourselves ;
and yet it is our own, it has not changed. The blighted hopes
of the poet sigh their lament over Henry of Luxemburg, just
and brave, who was to deliver Italy; whom Dante counselled,
and whose crowning he perhaps beheld in the Lateran in
13(2, he too, though raised to the heaven of Mars, could not
but disappoint the patriot, and die without having achieved
aught of lasting worth (Par. xvii.). Friends, enemies, stran-
gers, acquaintance, all who in the chronicles of those fierce
Italian cities had won renown by noble deeds, by infamy, by
misfortune, crowd at the poet's call to his Acheron, or slowly
ascend the Mount of Purification, or shine in the Empyrean.
Snatched from life, set in clear perspective, they keep their
identity and are recognizable by speech or gesture — only they
remain now fixed in that enamel from which they never again
shall emerge. "When Minos has given," says the Roman poet,
''conspicuous judgment upon thee" (Horace, Carm, iv. 7);
a sentence here most surprisingly illustrated. For Dante is
Minos and Aristophanes in one.
His judgments are ethical; a two-edged sword cleaving to
the marrow. We must never deem that the frightful phantas-
magoria which fills his opening part was for its own sake ; it
is symbol and token of the disorder within. Michael Angelo,
copying those gloomy episodes on the wall of the Sistine
Chapel, can but paint their horror; Dante lends them a voice
and they become articulate. The undying instances of his
manner have passed into classics, which all know without hav-
ing read them. Fifty lines tell the tale of Rimini {Inf. v. 88-
138), with what swift strokes, what tenderness, grief, and
truth! Dante judges like a man kindly, like a god justly.
We do not blame the Divine Purity against which Paolo and
Francesca have sinned ; but well we understand why the poet,
as he turns away, swoons with compassion at a doom so pite-
ous. The law is a good law, and those who break it here
below confess in the tormented air that they deserve to suffer.
''Needs they must that sin," exclaims the chorus in iEschylus;
"that the evil-doer shall pay the penalty — these things ancient
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154 Dante and the Spirit of Poetry [May,
legend cries aloud" {Choeph. 313). Bat our stern Florentine
pours into the cup a human kindness which is all bis own,
and all Christian.
So, then, we may endure, as lessons in the nature of
things, the dreadful imagery — rivers of blood, and snows of
falling fire, trees that writhe in torture, shadows trampled on,
the boiling pitch of Bulicame, the leaden copes which weigh
4own hypocrites — all the. gaunt, spectral scenes through which
we pass shuddering until we reach the frozen heart of that
•dead universe. Here is one of the true symb.ols which an-
nounce a poet creative and profound. The dark fires have
turned to ice, for Love has been dying out as we descend,
and now its opposite reigns — Hate perfect in malice, Envy
which strikes at the Primal Good, Treason to Love is the last
word. Dante has listened to the traitor Ugolino while he tells
the story of the Hunger Tower {Inf. xxxiii.); after the har-
rowing speech, yet in its anguish touching, there rises upon
us a voiceless vision of the Malignant One, and the treasures
of evil are exhausted. Upon that dark hour the star of Easter
dawns. We spread our sails above a new and lovelier sea.
The Orient sapphire's hue of sweetest tone.
Which gathered in the aspect, calm and bright.
Of that pure air as far as heaven's first zone.
Now to mine eyes brought back the old delight.
{Purg. I)
A time there used to be, after modern men of letters had
revived the study of Dante, when the Inferno seemed incom-
parably more to their mind than the Purgatorio and the Para^
diso. Carlyle, saturnine genius though he was, did not fall in
with such a mood ; he called it justly Byronism. The winged
spirit of Shelley had always soared above it. And so much is
certain ; those who forsake the pilgrim as soon as the morning
air blows on his forehead and light springs up from the sea —
that "trembling of the main" when sunrise touches it — know
him but in shadow. The higher octaves of his great musi-
cal descant are for them inaudible. His magic is to bring joy
out of grief, else he were no follower of Beatrice, and still un-
redeemed.
Perhaps, in the range of literature, no more beautiful con-
ception is found than this of the going up, stage after stage.
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I906.] DANTE AND THE SPIRIT OF POETRY 155
along the Hill of Purification, learning at each ascent how the
soul may be renewed, until a second forest is reached, not
gaunt and drear as that wood in which man lost his way, but
the garden- forest of Eden, clad in its Easter freshness {Purg.
xxviii.). It is very human, too. Biographers have noted that
in many cantos of the second part those qualities which marked
his temperament are better shown by our gentle master than
elsewhere. His converse with Virgil and Statins, and theirs
with one another, as they traveled upward, bring to my re-
membrance days in the Appennines, when I was young, and we
scholars pilgrimed to Subiaco, or some famous shrine, talk-
ing philosophy by the way. A singular happiness flows round
the companions like a light; tor such discourse was Dante
made and for such friends, rather than for the strife of Guelfs
and Ghibellines in which his serene^ spirit was clouded, bis heart
fretted to insanity, his years consumed. Surely we pity him.
I figure to myself the Purgatorio as some vast mediaeval mon-
astery on the slopes of a hill — Cassino or Monserrato— in which
forgiven sinners do penance. They suffer, yet they are at rest ;
the Church's liturgy, with its hours, its Latin chants, measures
their day and night ; they fast,' weep, and pray in the cleans-
ing fire; and for their keepers mighty angels are set over them,
guardians of the place against evil {Purg, viii.). Consider well
Dante's angels. They are no " machinery," such as the shallow
Renaissance critics thought indispensable to an epic poem.
They are real, with a majesty and power derived from the
Christian's faith as he broods over his Bible; and if we would
see them, we must look on those denizens of eternity whom
Michael Angelo has painted in the Sistine among Prophets and
Sibyls. They belong not, as Milton's unearthly visitants, to the
creations of literature in the main, but to religion ; they are
''true ministers indeed," but likewise powers that move the
spheres (-ftir. xxviii.). Their beauty of green or fuddy ves-
ture, their dazzling aspect as of the morning star, their swift-
ness and yet their tranquility, leave us wondering, pleased,
overcome, and strangely satisfied. I have gone for their image
to the last of the Florentines; but let us not be unmindful of
an earlier pencil. Fr^ Angelico, whose heavenly colors fall out
of this self-same religion, " with the angels painted." The se-
cret by which they have been discovered and compounded is a
certain youthful purity, intense as flame, which the old reli-
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156 DANTE AND THE SPIRIT OF POETRY [May,
gious discipline fostered, and which later faults could not wholly
obliterate.
We follow the flying voices, read the lessons sculptured on
the rocksi hearken while the spirits chant their Pater Noster —
'* Our Father, thou who dwellest in the heaven " — their invo-
cations of the Madonna, their Gloria in Excelsis when the
purified soul rises by its own lightness out of the Valley of
Humiliation; and we pass through the fire which had barred
Eden's gates when Adam was thrust forth into the wilderness.
It is now almost forty years since I began reading the seven
cantos with which the Purgatorio concludes; at every Easter-
tide I recall them with delight and amazement, as expressing
the happy yet tender mood which binds in one the Day of
the Crucified with his triumph over death, and his Resurrection.
Even the fierce invectives of which Dante is master, the alius*
ions to high crimes in holy places, cannot quench his joy.
And the meeting, at last, of the pilgrim with his heart's
desire; Beatrice's descent amid the rain of blossoms, her
garment of living flame, her beauty in rebuke, her sovereign
charm, which has drawn up to such a height the proudest, now
the most penitent, of men, who knows himself for an immortal
poet — again we have to say that on no other leaf is a story
like unto this one engraven (Purg. xxx ). It is the '' recogni«-
tion" which in Greek tragedy was the turning point or the
crisis of pathetic power, and surely it yields to none. The
blending of human with id^al passion is complete; we cannot
divide them, ^' number there in love was slain." The prophecy
of the Vita Nuova is accomplished with a magnificeQce of ap-
parel, an . inward depth, a simple antique strength, which is
only not the Attic style of Sophocles because it has infinite
side allusions to a more mysterious faith. Beatrice's glory
crowns the Purgatorio ; there is left the still greater glory of
the Madonna to wreath in light the Paradise, This noblest
among Christian poems celebrates the triumph of pure woman-
hood. A significant moral, meet, shall we not believe, for
these our times?
Lady, thou art so great and of such might.
That he who seeks grace yet turns not to thee.
Would have his prayer, all wingless, take its flight. . . .
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1906.] Dante and the Spirit of Poetry 157
In thee is mercy, pity ; yea, sublime
Art thou in greatness, and in thee, with it,
Whatever of good is in creation's clime.
{^Par, xxxiii.)
And of the Paradise what can one say, the space being so
short ? If I had time, I would endeavor to interpret those strains
which to Carlyle's ear, and, I suppose, to the modern gener-
ally, sound as "inarticulate music." Not so to us who hold
the faith which Dante held, who still keep communion with
his hierarchies of angels; with Francis of Assisi, for whose
greater renown he inspired Giotto to design the lovely fres-
coes over which we have lingered in the saint's own resting-
place; with Thomas Aquinas, the Angelic Doctor, whose lucid
teaching still rings down these grave harmonious lines, an an-
tidote to Lucretius and all unbelief and sadness; with Bene-
dict and Bernard, and the many more, throned in the empy-
rean, yet meeting us in starry splendor, in mystic dance and
song, as the pilgrim is caught up with Beatrice from sphere
to sphere. All that you must read for yourselves, bravely,
perseveringly. You will not lose your reward. If much of it
comes very strange to you, bear in mind that no slight bene-
fit of poetry is the remoteness by which it lifts us out of the
common, unfixing our too steadfast hold upon things which,
as long familiar, can neither teach nor inspire. ** Such is this
steep ascent," toilsome at first, then delectable and divine:
Light of the intellect, replete with love.
Love of true good, replete with perfect bliss,
Bliss that doth far above all sweetness prove.
{Par. XXX.)
A new power of vision will thus be created in you, giving
strength as well as clearness to the mental sight {Par, xx.) ;
and when you lay the poem down, though you should remem-
ber not a line of it, you will have gained that which all great
literature promises, intuition of the deepest human truths and
a sense of peace. Did space permit me, I would contemplate
with you the Rose in Heaven, living and forever not to fade,
whose leaves make a world at one with itself, while the River
of God gladdens it {Par. xxx., xxxi.). I would show you how
the light is reflected again upon Dante's observant mind, so
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158 DANTE AND THE SPIRIT OF POETRY [May.
that he views the flowers of this lower land^ the Alps and
Apennines, the sea that couches along by Pisa and Genoa, the
stately palaces of Verona, the Lateran throne, the streets of
Florence, the solitudes of Fonte Avellana, and whatever else
falls beneath his gaze, in a rapture which enables him to pierce
through veils, and dissipate shadows, and judge the world
aright. For he has seen, where the multitude are blind; and
his poetry is truth everlasting.
To chant that sublime song he adapted, if he did not actu-
ally invent, the terea rima, which flows on and on like a moun-
tain stream, now hoarse and solemn in its deep gorges, now
shimmering in the sun's rays, rippling and foaming, but broad-
ening as it moves, until it meets the ocean and its waters re-
turn whence they came. But to what shall we liken the poet ?
He has left a symbol of himself in words untranslatable, of
which the sense may be faintly given thus — but they are, in-
deed, sweeter than English tones can echo :
As is a lark that cleaves at will the sky,
First singing loud, then silent in content,
With that last sweetness that doth satisfy.
So seemed to me the image there imprent
Of that eternal joy which, as each will
Desires it, stamps the fashion of its bent.
{Par. XX.)
If to have written a Bible is the noblest achievement in
literature, then, reverently I say it, Dante has done this thing.
For in the Divina Commedia we read the Bible of Italy, his-
tory, prophecy. Apocalypse, which no time will antiquate.
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STUDIES ON FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE.
BY M. D. PETRE.
V.
NIETZSCHE THE ANTI-FEMINIST.
ALTHOUGH Nietzsche has consecrated a few para-
graphs to the subject of woman in most of his
works, readers must not look to him for any spe-
cial or original theory on this subject. And yet
we can hardly omit, from a general study of his
works, some mention of his anti-feminist philosophy. Here
was a matter in which the influence of Schopenhauer, about
the most virulent woman-hater that ever lived, remained pre-
dominant to the last. Perhaps in the Wagner period these
opinions may have been moderated, but, when he reacted from
this second great intellectual influence of his life, he inveighed
the more energetically against the other sex, just because
Wagner had given to woman a very marked and definite part
in his scheme of art and life.
Nietzsche had not the same reason as Schopenhauer for th^
adoption of his theories. The latter was never able to re^rd
women except from one point of view, the one which j^ m^.
happily common to men of his life. Nietzsche, of pure and
irreproachable conduct, bad no reason for looking /^t women
from this standpoint. When he tells us that love^-l^etween the
sexes is, in reality, an inverted hatred, we he/^r the voice of
Schopenhauer and his like, to whom only on^ kind of relation-
ship between men and women seems. pos;^ble. But there are
other elements of his feministic philoso^y that are more per-
sonal, more his own, and it is with tl^rise that we really have
to deal. His more substantial grie;^nces against women are
grounded on his general principj/^s, and interesting as a fur-
ther development thereof. >'
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i6o Studies on Friedrjch Nietzsche. [May,
I.
THE EMANCIPATION OF WOMEN.
We shall not be surprised to find that Nietzsche was as
much opposed to the movement in favor of female emancipa-
tion as he was to the advance of democratic ideas. On this
point his condemnation of women was absolute; as regards the
distinctly feminine sphere of action, marriage and motherhood,
we shall see presently that his severity was more qualified.
Women are slowly, but surely, invading all those provinces
of thought, and, still more, of action, that have hitherto been
confined to masculine effort alone. Not only have they adopted
professions and occupations for which they would have been
considered a hundred years ago unfit, but they have likewise
given some proof of their fitness by the capacity they have
displayed therein. How far their present success will be main-
tained, is a question that cannot yet be answered; the subject
is still immature. It must be remembered that it is, so far,
rather the intellectual ilite of women who are flocking into
scientific professions, while it is the mass, good, bad, and in-
different, of the other sex that still occupy them ; therefore,
to establish a comparison just now, would be like comparing
the best of one class with the best, worst, and middle of an-
other. Only when it becomes, if it ever do become, as general
^ for women as for men to lead a professional life, and when the
l^lamor of novelty and ambition have passed away, shall we be
' N[e to form a relative estimate of the capacity of men and
^^^^cn in the same intellectual work. We will only just hope
* ' ^ efore that time arrives, too many men will not have come
^ ^ Conclusion that, since it is woman's delight to work,
®y» or 'f.heir part, may gratify their very legitimate delight
to play !
s to tne ^professions which ought to be open to women,
and those which a,,^ unsuited to their sex, it is certainly most
difficult to lay down ^„y j^^ Qne wonders if it be reasona-
ble to deny her access .^ ^ny profession for which she proves
herself to have the nec^gary ability. The barriers which yet
block her way are, more o^- jess, conventional, and will inevita-
bly give way to the rising N^je. When we look back we see
how each successive outwork i^^ been guarded in turn, while
Its defenders asserted, with more\ vigor than reason, that those
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;i9o6.] Studies on Friedrich Nietzsche i6i
already captured were unessential, but that just this one stood
on the line which no true woman should cross. But no sooner
were they driven back, than they asserted precisely the same
thing of the next fortress at which they took their stand; in
this, not unlike the defenders of a few other losing causes.
They were trying in fact, but were trying vainly, to make
an essential distinction where none really existed, and the at-
tempt was doomed to failure, because life is stronger than ar-
tificial custom. It is better to face the question boldly, and
to admit that, unless we can find some more radical distinc-
tion between what is unconventional and what is unwomanly,
we are fighting a battle which is already lost, for the enemy
is even now swarming to the very heart of the beleagured city.
That there is some such distinction we ourselves most firmly
believe ; but, just because this distinction is so fundamental
and essential, it must be sought in something deeper than mere
choice of external occupation. There are men who, from pure
chivalry, look on regretfully at this process, thinking that wo-
man can never be sacred to them again, once they have jos-
tled with her in the senate or the market-place; and there are
other men who are stirred by far less generous motives in
their condemnation of the movement. But others again there
are, both men and women, who are not influenced chiefly in
their disapproval of the present state of things by any theory
as to the proper functions of woman herself; what they dread
rather is the injury which may be inflicted on those same pro-
fessions and occupations. They deprecate, in fact, the femu
fdzingf first of manly occupations, and, subsequently, of man
himself. They fear that the influence of political, or literary,
or journalistic women will make itself felt in a predominance of
those elements of impulse and emotionalism which are generally
regarded as feminine characteristics. Nor will this be notice-
able only in their own work, but their masculine co-workers
will not remain uninfluenced, and thus, in many things where-
in the world has hitherto moved forward under the guidance
of men alone, another factor will now be at work, a factor re-
garded, until now, as unsuited to the labor of objective thought.
Now this is the party to which Nietzsche would have be-
longed, and we know him well enough by now to guess what
his principal reasons would have been.
In the first place, he did not believe in raising anybody,
VOL. LXXXIII. — II
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i62 Studies on Friedrich Nietzsche [May^
from whatever state of weakness or misery it might be. We
have a right to rise as high as our own powers will lift us \
we have no right to rise an inch higher. Of course in this
he ignored, as we know, the essential part that society plays
in the education of the individual; and, in his strenuous ad-
vocacy of self-activity, he overlooked those occasions in i^hich
even the strongest man may need momentary support, in or-
der to exert himself the more energetically hereafter. But^
with certain qualifications, there is truth and wisdom in his
doctrine; and the women who are working for their own sex
would do well to take it to heart. The highest freedom is
that which we win for ourselves and which no other can win
for us; and freedom is not a stereotyped, material possession,,
but flexible and varied according to the circumstances of each
one. It is the greatest mistake to confound liberty with the
possession of certain external privileges, and the result of so>
doing is that the supposed oppressor has sometimes to be called
in, to protect the weak in the handling of those arms which
he has himself bestowed on them. When women a.sk for liber-
ty of precisely the same kind and quality as that which men
possess, we are tempted to ask if Nietzsche may not be partly
right; whether the movement is wholly spontaneous, that is^
springing from internal needs and intrinsic, though latent, ca-
pacities; or is not, in part, due to an artificial, extraneous im-
pulse; to ambition rather than to natural fitness.
And how untrue it is to suppose, with some women writers-
of the day, that the work of emancipation has been entirely
their own. I think we may take it for granted that those who
know how to rebel have already ceased to be slaves. The
movement towards emancipation arises first, as Dr. Kidd so
well shows in his work on Social Evolution^ in the hearts of
the ruling and not of the subject classes. Unless some out-
side influence penetrate within the walls of the Eastern harem,,
is there the least likelihood that woman herself will ever re-
volt against her fate? As Nietzsche himself has said, with a
certain caustic truth, no man ever speaks so hardly of women
as woman speaks of her own sisters.
Still, most of us are more humble-minded than Nietzsche.
We should be sorry to be cut down to that amount of life and
liberty which we had been able to win by our own unaided
efforts. But we can just go with him so far as this — what we
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I906.] STUDIES ON FRIEDR2CH NIETZSCHE 1 63
get must be appropriated, must take root in the soil of our
own nature, or it will be ever a false and artificial growth. So
that he was right in condemning everything in the feministic
movement which was not calculated to be carried on by its
own inner force, and throve only by servile imitation and ex-
ternal support.
Also he was right, in so far as he may have seen, with
the others whom we have mentioned, some danger of the
feminizing of our general social, or political, or intellectual life.
In so far as a woman's view is complementary of that of a man,
she will bring variety and completeness to the consideration
of any subject; but it is to be regretted when she makes
her presence felt rather by the importation of a subjective and
emotional element in matters which should be dealt with in a
purely objective manner. We can hardly deny that something
of this has taken place; that the influence of women can be
traced in the diminution of a certain manly reticence and sever-
ity, which are needful in public thought and action. It is in such
cases we feel that women have not so much brought their own
contribution as qualified, and weakened, the contribution of mem
It is easier to recognize this evil than to see exactly whence
the remedy is to come. Not certainly from such reactionary
measures as Schopenhauer and Nietzsche would have advocated,
but perhaps rather from the very contrary policy, that of urg-
ing the movement onwards, till its good and its bad become
manifest. The very novelty of this feminine influence, in pro-
vinces where women had not before penetrated, has been, at
first, disconcerting. But the more women are admitted as
equals, the more quickly will it be proved if, and in what,
they are, intellectually, inferior. So long as men tolerated
their intrusion with a kind of superior indulgence, they are
liable to be over-influenced, just because they expected too
little. As time goes on difference of sex will come to be less
and less noticed, and women will succeed or fail exclusively
according to their genuine capacity for the professions they
have undertaken. That they will ever prove intellectually
equal, as a class, in objective work, is what many of us doubt ;
and, just for this reason, it is not by any means the strongest
and most independent characters amongst women that have
always forced themselves to the fore in the emancipation move-
ment. Just as they felt that they could not do men's work as
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1 64 STUDIES ON FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE [May,
well as men, they have felt that they could do some other
things very much better, and these, not merely domestic tri-
vialities, but works of very true intellectual and spiritual value.
Perhaps what has sometimes disgusted such women, in the actioa
of their more forward sisters, has«been their evident desire to
imitate and adopt masculine attributes; the very last thing
which a more independent woman would wish to do, cherish-
ing, as she does, too good an estimate of her own sex to have
any wish to exchange it. Such women, when they do under-
take what is generally regarded as the work of men, will bring
to it characteristics all their own, and will thereby enrich
rather than enfeeble it, even though on some sides they may
fall short of the masculine standard. But, however this may
be, while circumstances continue the same, it is almost ridicu-
lous to think of stemming the current. We cannot accept the
more positively reactionary measures of Nietzsche, we can only
advise women to learn from him to be ttue to themselves^ that
is, to seek chiefly that work which they feel to correspond to
the needs and capacities of their own nature ; to be influenced,
not by the ambition of doing what men do, but of doing that
which their own soul craves to be doing. His lesson to them
would be. once more, that of true independence, and true in-
dependence is that which seeks the liberty proper to each one,
not a stereotyped liberty, which consists in the right to cer-
tain external privileges, unconnected with true personal and
intrinsic development.
II.
MARRIAGE.
In Der Fall Wagner^ speaking of Wagner's great drama,
" Der Fliegende Hollander," Nietzsche says :
" What becomes of the Eternal (wandering) Jew^ whom a
woman worships and brings to rest ? Why, he simply ceases
to be eternal^ he marries, and interests us no further. Trans-
lated into reality, the danger of the artist, of the genius, and
such is the Eternal Jew^ is — woman ; adoring women are their
ruin. Hardly one of them has sufficient character not to be
spoilt — saved (sic!) when he is treated as a god — he at once
condescends to the woman. As woman well knows, man be-
comes a coward before the Eternal Feminine, In many instances
of feminine love, and perhaps just in the most famous, love is
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i9o6.] Studies on Friedrich Nietzsche 165
simply a more refined farasitisnty a building of one's nest in
another soul . . . ah! at what cost to that other soul."*
In an earlier work, Humane too Humatty he writes:
'' Without knowing it, women act like those who would
take the stones out of the way of a mineralogist, that his foot
may not strike against them — whereas he has just undertaken
his excursion for that purpose." t
Quite in accordance with the rest of his philosophy, Nietz-
sche feared the influence of women on himself and on other
men, because of its possibly enervating effect. His dread was
to have the path made smooth in front of him ; to have any
loving heart interpose itself between himself and his struggle
with the bracing hardships of fate. The love of woman was,
in his eyes, beset with two dangers for the chosen man; first,
she will, as we have just said, protect him from those very
risks and pains by which his manhood is made and developed ;
secondly, be thought her nature parasitic, and that she would
drain the man's strength into the service of her own weakness.
Mr. Bernard Shaw, when, as so often, he deals with the
same subject, gives us nothing more than a witty presentment
of Nietzsche's theories. Woman the hunter, and man the
hunted, correspond exactly to this doctrine of the parasitic
nature of woman's love. And the remedy, in Nietzsche's eyes,
was that woman should be restored to her old position, that of
subject and slave. Nor would this even, in his eyes, be any
real hardship to the woman, since it was the state suited to
her nature, and which, in her deepest heart, she preferred.
'' The happiness of man is I will ; the happiness of woman,
he willsrX
As to the passion of love, he never really departed from
the philosophy he first imbibed from Schopenhauer; only in
the consequences to be deduced from those theories did he
strike a different line. Indeed that same conception of love,
which he had formed regarding the love between man and
woman, to which the term has been applied in a certain pecu-
liar sense, he carried over to other affections also, suspecting
nearly every kind of attachment to be really founded on the
fierce instinct of self-aggrandisement.
*' But most plainly of all," he writes, *' does sexual love
betray itself as an impulse of appropriation; the lover seeks
unconditional possession of the desired person, unconditional
*Def Fall Wagner, Par. 3. \M, a, z, M. Par. 431. XAlso sprack Zarathoustra,
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1 66 Studies on Friedrich Nietzsche [May,
power over soul and body. . . . How is it that the fierce
covetousness and injustice of love between the sexes has been
thus divinized . . . when it is perhaps the most uncon-
trolled expression of egoism ? " •
In other places he points out how this kind of love is
often more akin to hatred, and it is noticeable that, even
after he had entirely repudiated all allegiance to Wagner,
when he had nothing but dislike and contempt for most of his
productions, he could, even to the end, hardly overcome bis
genuine admiration for "Tristan and Isolde." In this drama
is depicted, as in none of the others, the bitter fatality of love.
In Isolde's song of love and death is a most perfect present-
ment of the tragic theme of Schopenhauer, the pathetic struggle
of individual love and life against the overwhelming forces of
nature and destiny. Nietzsche admired this drama because it
depicted love in its most dire and tragic form; in its bitter-
ness, its hopelessness, its passion, its turbulent self-destruction.
And yet he believed also in the possibility of a kind of
love which should not be subjected to this tragic, egoistic im-
pulse. He was of too pure and tender a nature to be able to
omit the highest aflfections entirely from his philosophy. When
a young friend once asked him what substitute he proposed
for the poetry and romance of love, taken in its more ex-
clusive sense, he answered: Friendship^ which would exhibit
fully as many vicissitudes, and as much pathos. And, at the
conclusion of the paragraph from which we have just quoted,
he writes these beautiful words:
" There is a certain development of love in which the covet-
ous longing of two people for one another has yielded to a
higher mutual thirst for an ideal above them both. But who
has found such a love ; who has experienced it ? Its true name
is friendship." t
But we must not think that he had no higher philosophy
in regard to marriage also. The ideal marriage of the future
was to be contracted in the interests of the superman, man
and woman uniting themselves for the production of something
which should transcend them both. And he at least implies
that this ideal shall ennoble parents as well as child, that the
higher object they have in view shall be, not merely the beget-
ting of a nobler race, but their own fulfilment of a greater end.
In this marriage of the future mere passion is to be no de-
* FrohlUhe WissenschafU Par. 14. Mbid.
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I9o6.] STUDIES ON FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE 1 67
termining factor; be who is impelled by passion alone is not
acting by his own strength and initiative.
" It should never be allowed to any one/' he says, " to take
a decision as to hi$ destiny when he is in love, and to de-
termine his future companionship by a whim. The union of
such lovers should be declared invalid and marriage forbidden
them, just because marriage should be taken in so much more
serious a sense."* »
" One day," said Zarathoustra, " you must love beyond
yourselves. Learn, therefore, first, how to love. It was in
order to know this lesson that you had to drink so bitter a
chalice of love. There is bitterness in the chalice, even in that
of the best love. Thus is awakened the desire of the super-
human, thus is its thirst awakened in thee, O creator! The
thirst of him who would create, the arrow and the desire of
the superhuman, tell me, brother, is this what moves thee to
marriage? I bless such a desire and such a marriage." f
We see then that, in spite, of his reactionary views on
the question of feminism, and in spite of his cynicism in re-
gard to passion and love, Nietzsche was not altogether the
commonplace woman-hater; that he was combating certain real
difficulties, and pursuing a certain real end.
Let us recall once more that characteristic of his teaching,
his hatred of the parasite; his contempt for any claim that
was grounded on mere weakness. When we see women, too
often, making their appeal just on this score, we surely cannot
deny all truth to Nietzsche's accusations. Even in these days
of female emancipation, the old spirit of caprice and coquetry
seems as much alive as ever; and what is coquetry but a con-
fession of weakness, with the avowed intention of making that
weakness, not a shame, but a claim; and a claim, not simply
for the help which all may need at times, but a claim to have
weakness, qua weakness, recognized as a right and a privilege,
not as a loss and a sickness? It is thus that woman often
leads man in virtue of her very inferiority, not in virtue of
that particular strength in which she is actually his superior
and entitled to a definite influence. Such women might learn
much from Nietzsche's scathing reproaches ; might learn that
weakness, in itself^ can never be right matter for a boast, nor
right means of influence. We should seek those stronger than
^ Mor^enrotAe, Par. 151. f Zarathoustra. Matriage andthe Child.
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1 68 Studies on Friedrich Nietzsche [May,
ourselves in order to be cured of our infirmittes, not in order
to make them the servants of our misery.
A second point of his teaching on which women, who think
the matter out dispassionately, will find matter for thought as
well as blame, is his view as to her being fitted and intended
for marriage alone, and having no personal and independent
mission. In the last section I tried to show how futile it was,
in these days, to raise up barriers against this profession or
that; how little it really matters what professions women
undertake, when once it is clear that they must undertake
any at all. Therefore, on this point, we must regard Nietz-
sche's strictures as untimely, in the sense of coming too late
and not too soon. And, in judging of the proficiency of women
in these things, the question of sex should not enter at all;
a woman should be judged by precisely the same standard as
a man. But there is a whole world of activities and interests
in which the distinction of sex is as clear and imperative as
ever, and here it is that the emancipated woman must fall into
rank with the rest of her sex, since her outer privileges have
nothing to do with her life as wife and mother. A woman
may use her muscles, both physical and mental, may be an
athlete, if you will, or a senior wranglei'^-the question now
is : What is her part in marriage ; in that life wherein the re-
spective rights and duties of sex properly and necessarily
enter ?
We have seen what Nietzsche thought of the romance of
love-making, and how very much higher he put the romance
of friendship ; also, how strongly he believed in the subjection
of woman, once a man did enter on the married state. But,
in spite of many crude assertions, his theories sometimes issue
in a more spiritual doctrine than he himself consciously ad-
mitted. Though he never named the possibility of a super-
woman as well as a superman, she did, indirectly, enter into
his reckonings. When two people are invited, in marriage, to
look to something higher than their own ends, there must
surely be a predominating spiritual element in their union, and
this cannot be on one side and not on the other. Thus, with
an idealized marriage, we rightly expect a more spiritual au-
thority and a more spiritual subjection.
The appropriation of the word love to a kind of passion
which, in its deterministic and unspiritual character, is further
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i9o6.] Studies on friedrich Nietzsche 169
removed than any other attachment from the ideal of high and
spiritual friendship, has made some believe, with Schopenhauer,
that love between man and woman is no real love at all, and
that its glorification is the work of mere romance. They stand
out in absolute opposition to those others, who seem to think
that every kind of love was first derived from the love of the
sexes. Now the probability is that this love was, actually, not
the first, but the last to be spiritualized ; that the ideal of
friendship arose apart from it, and only, much later, was ad*
mitted as a constituent of conjugal love. But, though later of
development, is not this ideal eventually one of the highest*
just because it unites the opposites of human nature, body
and soul, deterministic and spiritual force? So that, while we
can fully agree with Nietzsche and others as to the selfish,
fatalistic, impersonal character of love, taken in the sense of
mere sexual passion, we can nevertheless maintain that this
same passion, sacramentalized and spiritualized^ becomes an ele-
ment of the highest kind of love which this world can show.
Even though we should then admit that it is rather the man
who receives and the woman who gives, that he, with Nietzsche,
is to find his destiny and life in " I will," and she in " he
wills," though she is to belong to him in a sense in which he
cannot belong to her, though she is to work for his ends rather
than he for hers, this does not make their love a mere coun-
terplay of egoistic and altruistic emotion. It is possible to be
unselfish in receiving as well as in giving, when both receiver
and giver are looking to something above themselves. In such
case there is no ignominy in subjection, no tyranny in author-
ity, for both are fulfilling their own highest aspirations, the
one by her devotion, the other by the truth and generosity
with which he accepts it. Such a union is, indeed, a prepara-
tion for what we too may call the superman, a preparation, by
mutual fitness, but not by that kind of mere material fitness
which is advocated by a certain school of evolutionists. The
spirit is not born of the flesh, and the highest future of the
race cannot be secured by the blending of physical advantages.
The very element of love, which is overlooked by such philoso-
phers, may, for aught we know, have a distinct part in the
work of human progress, but, for true spiritual progress, it must
be an attraction of the spiritual as well as the material order.
Thus the principles of organic evolution may find theit best
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I70 Studies on Friedrich Nietzsche [May.
fulfilment, not in opposition to, but in co-operation with those
of spiritual progress. •' D^mon, D^mon, devicns Dieu," said
Richard Wagner to the passion which he would spiritualize —
and so, in the highest development of human love, the demon
is divinized, and the body subjected to the soul, passion made
subordinate to spiritual love.
It is short-sighted to suppose that this highest ideal of
marriage is incompatible with the movement of female eman-
cipation ; quite the contrary. When a woman's only chance of
any kind of honor and liberty was in the married state, she
had every conceivable selfish motive for entering it. But now,
when her life can be happy, honorable, purposeful, in its own
single right, we may justly expect that she will only abandon
her prospects of strictly personal work and activity because
she sees that, in her case, a still higher end can be reached
by her co-operation with another. Just because the modern
woman has fewer self-interested motives for marriage should she
undertake it in a more serious and self-sacrificing spirit when
she does feel herself called to it. She will marry, not to lib-
erate herself from the otherwise inevitable thraldom, but to give
herself up to another who can help her, as she can help him,
to the better fulfilment of the life's end of both. She is no
longer regarded as a failure because she does not happen to be
a wife or a mother, but, for that very reason, will she be more
generous and devoted, when she freely chooses that life and
those duties. There was a time when only the Church had a
word of respect for the unmarried woman ; that time is passed,
and a woman has now her own value and her own opportuni-
ties, even should she never be called to share the life of an-
other. We may hope then that, just as she will be moVe dis-
criminating in the choice of the one to whom she commits her
destiny, so she will be more ready for the self-donation to
which she is thereby pledged, more prepared for the labor and
sacrifice it will entail. The modern woman should prove, eventu-
ally, the better wife and the better mother, just because she
has entered on that life, not for any extraneous advantage, but
because she finds it worth the sacrifice of the many other pos-
sible interests and duties. She has no longer any excuse for
accepting it as z, pis- alter ; she must undertake it, therefore,
only when she feels that, in it, she will find scope for her high-
est energies of heart and mind.
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LIFE AND MONEY.
V.
BY WILLIAM J. KERBY, Ph.D.
[N a reform movement, doctrine, organization, at-
mosphere, methods are important. Each should
be studied in relation to the others, and no com-
plete judgment of the movement may ignore any
one. At times the highest degree of conform-
ity between the individual and the movement will be reached
in the atmosphere rather than in the doctrine. In the preced-
ing article, the mental set of Socialism was outlined. It was
there stated that class point of view, feeling for equality, de-
spair of institutions, idealism, characterize the socialist move-
ment. These feelings are shared in varying degrees throughout
society ; one is found strongly developed here, another, there.
Circumstances hinder at one time, favor at another, the devel-
opmeat of this point of view. Where individuals or classes
obey any of these general impressions, and follow them to
their psychological consequences, Socialism appears quickly.
That it does not develop more rapidly is due largely to our
indi£ference to our own impressions ; to the fact that inter-
est, language, moral perception, apathy, check us, and our
impressions fail of what they might accomplish. - Where no hin-
drance appears, however, the process is different.
One who believes fully, and with sympathy, that the only
sure basis of personal liberty is economic will scarcely avoid
Socialism. Few believe and feel it. One who believes that
equal men should have equal liberty through equal guarantee
is prepared for Socialism ; one who is deeply impressed by the
inequalities of life and the disorder among rights; one who is
swayed by one's idealism — all such are predisposed mentally to
accept Socialism. The learned and the ignorant, the lovers
and the haters, the believers and the unbelievers, the reverent
and the irreverent, whom we find in Socialism, differing, as
they do, so widely and so strongly, are found to be largely
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172 Life and Money [May,
alike in fundamental impressions. They have or tend directly
to have in common the points of view desctYbed as constitute
ing the mental set of Socialism. These give coherence to the
movement, form to the doctrine, spirit to the propaganda, and
inspiration to those who believe. They who find complaint
pleasing and discontent natural; they who judge the real by
the ideal ; they who find in despair or in idealism tone and
feeling which provoke agreeable activity and companionship,
are caught by these aspects of Socialism, and not a few enter
the movement because of that.
Johnson in number 74 of The Rambler makes an observa-
tion which might have been based on accurate observation of
modern Socialism, so aptly does it apply to much in it in our
day. He says : '' It sometimes happens that too close an at«
tention to minute exactness, or a too rigorous habit of exam*
ining everything by the standard of perfection, vitiates the tem-
per, rather than improves the understanding, and teaches the
mind to discover faults with unhappy penetration. It is inci«-
dent likewise to men of vigorous imagination to please them-
selves too much with futurities, and to fret because those expec*
tations are disappointed which should never have been formed.
Knowledge and genius are often enemies to quiet, by suggest-
ing ideas of excellence, which men and the performances of
men cannot attain. But let no man rashly determine that his
unwillingness to be pleased is a proof of understanding, unless
bis superiority appears from less doubtful evidence; for though
peevishness may sometimes justly boast its descent from learn-
ing, or from wit, it is much oftener of base extraction, the child
of vanity and nursling of ignorance." '
The type of mind referred to by Johnson lends itself read-
ily to socialistic propaganda. Expect perfection and despair
must follow, so far short in every way does the real fall from
the ideal. It matters little what the cause, or the doctrine, or
the aim. Any form of activity which appeals to a given type
of mind is apt to win that mind through sympathy and stimu-
lation rather than through conviction and argument. In ask-
ing, then, about the relations of savers and spenders to Social-
ism, it is atmosphere, temperament, general point of view, that
is kept in mind, and not technical doctrine or discursive rea-
soning.
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I906.] LIFE AND MONEY 1 73
Savers are not inclined to become socialists. They are con-
servative, satisfied. Their savings represent the success of in-
stitutions. Nothing else vindicates private property as force-
fully as accumulation. A writer in the New York Sun says of
the saving French laborer: "The distribution of wealth in
France is of too general a character to leave a very large field
for the spread of Socialism. The lower bourgeoisie, among
whom may be included the better paid workman, whose one
ambition is to rise as soon as possible to the rank of master,
are both hard working and thrifty ; they constantly add to
their little stock, eagerly awaiting the day when, safely in-
vested, its interest will allow them to live at their leisure.
When that day arrives, the small tradesman closes his shop for
the last time and goes of! to live as a rentier at some subur-
ban place, where his chief occupations are his daily walk and
taking a hand at cards in his favorite caf^."
Savers are individualists, hopeful and contented with the
inequalities of life when their nearer ambitions are attained.
There are rich and well-to-do among socialists, brought to So-
cialism in many ways, but that does not appear to militate
against the general view that the mental traits which saving
habits create are such as hinder the saver from inclination to
Socialism.
The case is different with the spender, though it seems
that even he is not inclined toward Socialism as one might be
led to believe. The spender is restless, discontented; he lives
in a state of discipline forced upon him by an income rigidly
limited and notably insufficient for his deliberately fostered
wants. Spenders are constantly striving to maintain themselves
above their income level, sacrificing essential for accidental,
show for substance, living in debt, in daily contact with others
of larger means. One would be inclined to say that the mes-
sage of Socialism should appeal strongly to them ; and yet
we find, in fact, relatively little Socialism among the spenders.
II.
Every population reduces to classes of some kind. Money
classifies us, and we are rich, poor, or middle class; learning
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174 LIFE AND MONEY [May,
divides us, and we are educated or uneducated ; descent sepa-
rates us, and we are foreign or native, of "common people"
or "honorable ancestry"; culture groups us, and we are of
the four hundred, the smart set, the mob, we are or are not
in society; vocation marks us, and we are employers and
laborers; and craft divides the laboring class into skilled and
unskilled, mechanics, masons, carpenters, or engineers. Mod-
ern political institutions have made brave efforts to ignore
these differences, and to deal with men as men merely; mod-
ern social philosophy has given supreme sanction to the effort,
and surely much success has been achieved. But institutions
do not so easily control mental states and personal characteris-
tics, and these classes endure as mental states, affecting lives
very extensively. Social valuations are not amenable to civil
law. In most of us, our social valuations govern our ambi-
tions and conduct. The instinct for rivalry, passion for dis«-
tinction, eagerness for self-realization along the line of our
values in life, remain dominant. The social atmosphere in
which we live, spenders included, is an atmosphere in which
there are hierarchies, classes, standards, and selfish valuations.
The typical spender finds himself in a definite social class^
but that is a mere accident in life. His ambitions lead him to
rise to distinction in
spender is directed
his spending is for ii
to maintain a stand
looking upon the cla
which he is to emer
is not a group for \
or bravely lead a pn
in such a group an
spender from his sell
Nor do spenders
not humanity, but s
are impressed more 1
than by those where!
socialist. They do n
selfish point of view ;
members are nobly c
fessor Taussig said a
nomic Association: '
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I906.] LIFE AND MONEY 175
than that below, and wishes to be as well thought of as that
above. Each set decks itself with those outward symbols, from
starched linen to stately mansions, which proclaim to the on-
looker what stage of worldly advancement has been obtained.
The snobbery of the race, however flouted by the satirist,
persists in undiminished strength, and this is a factor of the
first importance in the economic world."
Like the average mortal, the spender is a creature of hope.
He believes in the good time coming, that fortune will yet fa-
vor him; that larger salary and wider life may realize his am-
bitions. While there is hope, there is life. While he can see
a higher place in life and institutions, as they are, from which
no necessary obstacle hinders him, while he plans and endea-
vors to better himself, hope fills him, directs him. Ambition
is hope, enthusiasm is hope, zeal is hope. This hopefulness
releases the spender from fear of the future, and he lives up
to his means or beyond them ; it restrains him from despair
over things as they are. He judges institutions, events, and
men by reference to himself and not to class or race.
The spender is at least mildly selfish, concrete, definite, hence
is disinclined to the ideal. More salary, better food, travel, lei-
sure, culture, make him content. He may love justice, prize
honesty, and believe in some form of human equality, but
justice as an inspiration, perfection as a campaign platform,
equality as a working policy seem not to possess the same
force of appeal as with the socialist.
III.
It is suggested then that while the condition of the typical
spender is one which involves much striving and no little dis-
content, his views, habits of life, and personal aims develop in
him a mental habit and points of view which not only do not
make for Socialism, but seem, on the contrary, to act against
it. The socialist takes an unselfish class point of view, believes
in equality, despairs of our institutions, and becomes an ideal-
ist, while the spender develops mentally in opposite directions.
Allowance must be made for apparent exceptions, since many
factors enter the situation ; the typical spender is acted upon by
many forces and may or may not become a socialist. When
other forces do act, and do produce the mental set described
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176 Life and Money [May,
as leading to Socialism, the result is difFerent. This is seen
from even a brief review of the conditions which are produc-
ing Socialism.
Fundamentally, the Western peoples have come to believe
in ideals, social, political, and industrial, which express a high
estimate of the individual man ; personal freedom, education,
culture, private property. Development has created many classes
and has distributed property, culture, and actual liberty in a
way to deny opportunity to very large numbers. Those who
are alive to the ideal and restive under its effective exclu-
sion, mainly the laboring class, the poor, react and create
movements of protest, such as the labor movement and Social-
ism. Aside from the hundred accessory phases of the move-
ment. Socialism is an organized effort to square enjoyment with
wants, possession with desire, real with ideal. This is taken to
be justice, and thus Socialism becomes an ethical movement, a
demand for the moralizing of life and possessions; an effort to
make man superior to property, to express equality of men in
industrial form and to universalize culture.
The contradiction in the individual's life between what he
is and has, and what he definitely aims to be, creates dis-
content, the impression of injustice, and desire for justice;
association with thousands of his fellow-men, who have the
same ideal and feel the same discipline and defeat; impres-
sions generalized and intensified by daily experience with the
more favored, who possess in abundance and spend with use-
less display and ignoble selfishness; all of these make for
Socialism, tending to generate the mental atmosphere in which
it flourishes. To-day Socialism has become a more or less
vague body of doctrine, impression, protest, idealism — actively
represented and propagated; vague enough not to repel, and
yet distinct enough to attract all whose life experience it ex-
presses adequately. It is organized discontent and constructive
idealism, but it seems that in the main it is protest against
injustice, and demand for justice. The socialist has many wants,
they are far in excess of income. His demand for their reali-
zation is a demand for justice as he and his class understand
it. The spender has many wants; they are far in excess of
income. His aim, however, is not justice, but pleasure, or
prestige, or distinction. He is conscious of a striving to better
himself; he is resourceful, persistent, and hopeful, but he is
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I906.] LIFE AND MONEY 1 77
not a seeker after justice. The narrowness of his view, the
selfishness of his aim, the delusion of hope which so influences
him, tend .to hold him in an atmosphere quite foreign to that
of Socialism. But when the thousand converging lines of in-
fluence in social life awaken in the spender a profound im-
pression of inequality, extravagance, contrast, and he ts awak-
ened by this process from recoil against inequality and injustice
into thirst for justice and equality, he is graduated into Social-
ism, or, at least, is brought close to it.
IV. - . * '
A review of the factors which, contribute to the develop-
ment of Socialism and socialistic sentiments, would undoubt-
edly contain some surprises for those who» believe that Social-
ism is created by socialists. The best work for its progress is
done outside its ranks; notably by the indiscriminate condem-
nation of men and institutions and motives. The recent ** litera-
ture of exposure " has so increased in quantity, and so developed
in intensity and personality, that there is danger of exaggeration,
the last result of which is to justify the despair of Socialism
and endorse its condemnation of everything. The facts are seri-
ous enough. None may question that. But the indiscriminate
condemnation of men, and universal suspicion of what they do,
will cairy popular unrest too far, and create exacting standards
which no human effort can reach. An interesting illustration is
found in an incident in the State of Washington told recently in
the United States Senate. The State, after some years of bitter
struggle, which had disrupted the old party lines, created, in
response to determined agitation, a railroad commission. Dis-
crimination, oppression, injustice had been charged against the
railroads, until every j>ne seemed to Jeel the iniquity as some-
thing personal. The Commission went .to Spokane, held public
sessions, invited complaints, asked merchants and shippers to
appear, and, after eight days, adjourned without having received
a single complaint.
It might be of interest, too, to ask whether or not educa-
tion, without regard to social adjustment, may not, at an early
day, contribute in an important way to Socialism. If our
institutions are turning out every year thousands of young
lawyers, physicians, college graduates, who find few professional
VOL. LXXXIII.— 12
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178 LIFE AND MONEY [Maf.
opportunities, who are compelled to wait for fears before tbtf
become self-supporting, because they will not engage in anjr
labor which is below the standard set by their aspirations, may
they not find in Socialism an organized expression of tiieir
feelings against conditions, and possibly an agreeable field in
which to exercise their ability. Germany sees it realized in
ber large number of educated socialitta. Did not Bismarck see
danger in Germany's educated pr6fetariat ? A recent writer in
the New Yoric Sun says of France : " The profession of Social-
ism is an easy step to notoriety, and in France notoriety leads
to power. Judging by their public conduct, it is hard not to
believe that personal ambition, rather than general good, is the
motive which actuates many of the socialist leaders/'
The depth to which selfishness and individualism have fixed
human nature, gives promise that it will be long before Social*
ism's point of view will gain dominion. That we would be in*-
finitely nobler and happier, were we safely possessed of muck
in it, need not be denied. A brief survey shows one many
influences at work, developing the mental atmosphere tnX of
which Socialism springs. Widespread as extravagance is, and
baneful as are its effects, it is hardly to be counted, at present,.
as i^mong the strongest. The typical spender is not a candi*
date for Socialism.
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AMONG THE SUBMERGED.
BY M. F. QUINLAN.
/ "I have said : you are gods, and all of you the sons of the Most High. But you like men
shall die, and shall fall like one of the princes " (Ps. Izxxi.)*
[EING anxious to see a Night Shelter in working
order^ I decided to become a temporary inmate.
The decision was easily arrived at; the method
of procedure was the difficulty. Should I pre-
sent myself as a vagrant; or challenge pity as
a journalist ?
A moment's reflection brought with it a ray of light. For,
whereas (thus I argued) every vagrant is not necessarily a jour*
nalist, every journalist, on the other hand, is essentially a va-
grant — a course of reasoning which was apparently endorsed
by the local authorities, who admitted that I wst eligible for
the Spitalfields bounty.
The next thing to do was to locate Spitalfields. Where
was it? I had asked. But the polite world did not know.
One friend stated her conviction that it was '' away off in the
dark " ; exact district, unknown. Another said it was sure to
be ''somewhere east"; and with a delicate wave of her hand
she vaguely indicated that benighted quarter. Then a certain
well-wisher advised me to go as far as the Bank of England,
which to many is the furthermost point in London, and then
to inquire. He believed Spitalfields was only a mile or two
from ^there. So having taken this friend's advice, I eventually
arrived at the bank, and by dint of exhaustive inquiry I pro-
ceeded to the lost land of Spitalfields, via Whitechapel, East.
On my arrival at Whitechapel a drizzling rain was falling,
and everything looked gray and sad. But, under the most
favorable conditions, Whitechapel could hardly look otherwise.
It is one of those dreary places that never change. Spring or
autumn, summer or winter, it matters not No green leaves
appear in Whitechapel No message of hope is vouchsafed to
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its denizens. Sometimes a grimy sparrow will defy the sur-
rounding gloom, hopping in and out among the traffic, as if
life held some joy. But Whitechapel takes no count of spar-
rows. And yet, does not Michael Fairless speak of them as
so many harbingers of hope — "dumb Chrysostoms, who preach
nevertheless a golden gospel"? For, as she says, **the spar-
rows are to London what the rainbow was to eight saved souls
out of a waste of waters — a perpetual sign of the remember-
ing mercies of God."
And here in Whitechapel the reminder is needed ; for, in
view of the sights and sounds of the locality, one is apt to
forget.
On the evening in question there were no sparrows to be
seen ; only a dense mass of jostling, ragged humanity, shawl-
wrapped and silent. It was the same old East which, once
seen, is never forgotten.
The East, with its tight-shut lips and its look of endur-
ance; the East that draws its shawl close to hide its rags and
hurries on without a murmur ; the suffering, pathetic East that
sins much, yet loves more — for here every stricken soul is
counted a brother.
Along its pavements I saw stunted-looking youths and girls,
with pale, drawn faces. They were out of work, yet because
they were young, they braved life with a smile. The world to
them held possibilities. Here an unkempt figure, having noth-
ing else to do, leaned against a damp wall and stared into the
night. He, poor wretch, had no illusions. There, in the sha-
dow, crouched a mother and child. They, too, were homeless;
and the pitiless rain was falling. Now an Israelite shuffled
past, grimy and bent, his eagle eyes overshadowed by bushy
brows and his nervous fingers twitching. He might have stood
for Shylock, awaiting his pound of flesh. Sometimes a dock
laborer passed by with slow, dispirited steps. Or a tired wo-
man crept along disheartened, head on breast. On each one's
horizon loomed the figure of Want; the gaunt, cruel, spectre,
which each knew so well. For to-day, as often before, the
labor market was at a standstill, in consequence of which thou-
sands of men, women, and children were living — God knew
how.
As a significant fact, it may be stated that no Scotchman
ever pitches his tent in Whitechapel, its denizens being con-
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I906.] AMONG THE SUBMERGED l8l
fiaed to English and Irish and the remnants of Europe. These
consist of misfits from Russia^ exiles from Poland, units from
the Fatherland, shivering; Italians from the South ; and repre-
sentatives from, each of the lost tribes of Israel. Listening to
the babel of tongues,, over all of which floated the buzz of
Yiddish, it was difficult to realize that this was a London slum.
Here there were but two designations: Christian or Jew. At
times it was hard to distinguish them, all being swarthy look-
ing men and, collarless. In the feminine world it was different.
Here every be-wigged figure proclaimed Judea, while the tpu-
zled head stood for Christendom. And to all outward seem-
ing it was a Christendom that had fallen from its high estate.
Poor and bedraggled, with lack lustre eyes, from which the
light of faith had been extinguished, they sought for comfort
in earthly things. A beer-jug was their talisman as, with hands
clasping it round, they hurried down the side street, bent on
drowning their cares, Qthers again, whose harvest was the
night, lurked about the street corners with roving, restless
eyes. On every face the past was written in clear-cut lines;
for the hand of fate never falters. In the glare of an occa-
sional gas jet, each human form stood out in turn ; then each
was smudged into the background of the Unknown. They
went past the neighboring lamp-post in drifts, as the snow is
driven before the wind. And, as I watched them pass away
in the darkness, I was reminded of the old Roumanian folk
song which begins and ends with the suggestive lines :
Into the mist I "gazed, and fear came on me;
Then said the mist : I weep for the lost sun.
So they flitted past, these human souls, like so many sad
butterflies seeking for light.
Leaving the main thoroughfare, I took a turning to the
left. It was a busy street flanked by warehouses; and con-
tinuing my way, I presently came upon Petticoat Lane, which
is the centre of Jewry. At this moment it was a sea of heads
and a confused babel of sound, for the sons and daughters of
Judea have a gift for bargaining. Rags and bones, fish,
crockery, old clothes, vegetables, and Kosher meat — everything
is sold in Petticoat Lane. Flaring torches affixed to the street
booths lit up eager faces in the foreground, and gave a sug-
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1 82 Among the Submerged [May,
gestion of peering eyes in the shadow. With a frame round
it» Petticoat Lane might have been an old canvas, hanging in
a Dutch gallery.
Then leaving Petticoat Lane I hurried on until I came to
a narrow turning. This was a cut- throat looking alley^ whose
patron saint seemed to be Claude Duval. But though the
name of the street, and its sinister aspect, suggested highway
robbery, its obvious poverty was enough to discourage any
son of the road. For there was small quarry in Duval Street.
Indeed, the place seemed to lie under some evil ban, which
the common lodging houses did little to redeem. In spite of
which, the price of beds had gone up; each bed letting at
seven pence per night, as opposed to four pence and six pence
of former times. From this it must not be thought that money
was more plentiful than hitherto. It only meant that beds
were now in inverse ratio to the population; the increasing
number of the homeless leaving them an easy prey to the
lodging house keepers.
Nevertheless, the common lodging bouses were full, for
whoever could beg, borrow, or steal seven pence, paid it wilU
ingly for the boon of securing a night's lodging* And to
those who have trailed the London streets, the money is well
spent. Of course the lodging house has its drawbacks; the
air is frequently foul and the bedding filthy. That there are
even greater disabilities is testified to by many. '' Facilis est
descensus Averni," says the poet, to whom Spitalfields was
not. But had be lived in our day, and slept in one of these
London dens, no doubt the poet would have been more ex*
plicit.
In aud around Duval Street is notorious ground. It was
in this quarter that many of the victims of Jack the Ripper
were done to death ; and Spitalfields keeps in its evil heart
the mystery of those tragedies, of which each was more grue-
some than the last. Investigation has failed, and the quarter
remains as before — impenetrable. Rumor now has it that this
district, which is tucked away behind Bishopsgate Without, is
undermined with secret passages. But of this no one has defi-
nite knowledge. All that is known is that men, fleeing from
justice, frequently escape in this quarter, vanishing as if by
magic, to reappear almost simultaneously several blocks away.
As I made my way down Duval Street, I was conscious of
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a certain Mrie feeling having crept into the night air, as if
the ghosts of dead crimiaals kept watch in the shadows.
At the farther end of the street were a few dingy shops,
and in one doorway stood a woman. She was clad in a ragged
skirt and a black satin blouse, now in shreds, the more solid
portions of which were held together by a large white pin.
To judge by its rusty age, the pin was entitled to a pension.
Bat the owner appeared oblivious of all responsibility, per-
sonal or financial, as she put her hands on her hips and gazed
at me with apathy.
''Can yott tell me,'' I asked politdy, ''where is the Night
Refuge, Crispin Street ? "
In reply to my question the occupant of the blouse pointed
a silent finger into the dark ; for which information, thus mutely
conveyed, I murmured my thanks; whereupon she jerked her
head in testimony of her good will. Duval Street wastes no
words on the passing stranger.
When I stood outside the Night Refuge it was barely half
past five, but no one was in sight. Crispin Street looked like
a desert waste, with the rain coming down in a lonely drizzle.
Then a Jewess loomed up out of the darkness and joined me
on the steps. She seemed prosperous ; at least she was not in
actual need, which in the East End means prosperity. Then
the door opened, and it transpired that she had come to seek
a servant among the ranks of the destitute. For myself, hav-
ing asked permission to see the Sister in charge, I was ushered
into a lofty parlor, where a cheerful fire burned in the grate.
Then a Sister of Mercy entered the room and spoke a few
words of welcome. In answer to my inquiry as to when the
inmates might be expected, I learned, to my surprise, that they
bad already come.
" The doors open at five o'clock,'' she said, " and at a quar-
ter past five every vacancy is filled. We can only take in three
hundred each night," she explained, ^' consequently we have to
turn many away."
'* And they, where do they go ? " I asked.
" They have nowhere to go," she said sadly. " So they walk
the streets all night. Yes; it is hard on the women and
children."
From the parlor she led the way across a flagged corridor
and opened the door of an immense room. It seemed well pro-
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1 84 AMONG THE SUBMERGED [May,
portioned and well lighted, with a big crackling fire at either end
of the. room. But though I knew these things, I was not conscious
of seeing them, for my eyes were held by the human interest that
filled the room. All that I really saw was this : rows and row^
of careworn faces;, faces of poor women who had fought axKl
failed; of those who had striven and gone under. Here they were
sitting side by side; the good and the bad, the ignorant and
the cultured; and they were all destitute, all homeless. It was
a scene that cried out in sorrow, for the life- story of each was
a human tragedy.
When the door had opened to admit us, each face was
raised, and I was conscious of being scanned by numberless
pairs of eyes. To be exact, there were in that room a hun-
dred and nine humaa beings. And it seemed to me, in thi^t
moment, as if every pair of eyes was asking the meaning of
life.
Why were they destitute, they seemed to say, when from
every altar the Christian code was proclaimed ? Why were
they starving, when the land was overflowing with riches?
.Why were they idle, when there was work to do? The scene
was one which compelled thought. Here were women young
and old ; women who would be glad to work, rather than be
dependent on charity. Here were children, starving and ill-
clad, many of whom had never known a home. That such a
thing can be is hard to realize, yet in the heart of London
many a child lives in the streets, sleeping under the bridges,
and warding off starvation by fair means or foul.
At the end of one bench sat a woman with a child at her
breasts She looked weary« She had walked the streets in the
rain since early morning. By her side were three elder chil-
dren — all tiny toddlers. These had clung to her skirts all day.
They were starving, as were also her husband and her eldest
boy, who were being sheltered in the men's wing. On the other
side of the room sat a woman whom I knew. She was a hat
trimmer, and admittedly a good '' hand." Yet she, too, was
in the shelter, waiting for the turn of the wheel. Sixty five
years of age, yet capable and active, her one ambition was to
earn enough to keep herself out of the workhouse. If she
made but ten shillings a week, she could do it. Nay; give
her but seven, and she would manage to exist. Not every one,
it is true, could do this; for when three, four, or even five
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I906.] AMONG THE SUBMERGED 1 85
shillings have been deducted for rent, there is not much over
for food and clothing. And the trimmer has to consider appear-
ances; her employer expecting her to look respectable, even
though she starves. Many women try to fulfil all these require-
ments, but many fail. Some, finding so little money available
for food^ buy drink instead; with the result that the ''hand*'
soon sinks into the depths. Alas ! there is no respectable occu-
pation for a drunkard.
At the Crispin Street Night Refuge there were all classes^
and mafiy were the poor women who were battling still with
the light of hope in their eyes. It was not easy, for the life
of the destitute is an unprotected one. They may not sleep
in the open street— the law forbids it. Therefore, they must
keep moving— always moving throughout the livelong night.
Sometimes they sink by the roadside, overcome with weariness.
Then they ^leep, in spite of prohibitions, and it is the dream-
less sleep of the exhausted. But the respite is of short dura-
tion, for soon a dark lantern flashes in on tired eyes, and a
voice warns theni to ** move on," while a policeman stands beside
them, In^stinctively the sleeper scrambles to her feet — such is
the force of habit — and shanibles on with lagging step. Whither?
What matter to the homeless. East or west — it is all one to
her. Every road leads downwards.
Under such circumstances as these, it is hardly to be won-
dered at that crime should be rife in Christian cities. It is
the crime of the shelterless; the sin of the destitute.
I remember, on a recent occasion, reading some lines writ-
ten by Aubrey de Vere which, apart from their original con-
text^ seemed to be iraught with the pathos of Iffe in great
cities. Listen to this. Is it not like a cry of piteous pleading ?
I heard a woman's voice that wailed
Between the sandhills and the sea;
The famished sea bird past me sailed
Into the dim infinity.
I stood on boundless rainy moors;
Far off I saw a great rock loom.
The gray dawn smote its iron doors;
And then I knew it was a tomb.
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1 86 AMONG THE SUBMERGED [May,
Surely it was the knowledge of human misery such as tkti,
the temptations and trials of the open streets, that promptti
a Catholic priest. Father Gilbert, to institute a Night Shelter
for homeless women. This shelter, founded in the year i860,
was the first unsectarian charity in London. In its first be-
ginnings it was a humble effort; just a stable in an alley,
where accommodation was provided for fourteen poor women.
A few years later, however, owing to the untiring labors of
its founder, the stable gave place to a more spacious buildiog.
Thus, little by little, the work has grown, until it is as we see
it to-day, when, instead of accommodation for fourteen, the
Crispin Street Refuge houses each night one hundred and nine
women, and one hundred and forty men, all of whom are not
only lodged but fed. In connection with the Shelter is a free
soup kitchen, which distributes 1,200 quarts of soup weekly
to the neighboring poor. Out of these works, but quite apart
from them, have sprung others; first, the Boarders* Home,
where girl typists and students are lodged for a small sum per
week; second, a Home of Rest, opened in Hertfordshire, for
the benefit of working women who require an inexpensive
change; and third, a Servants' Home at Crispin Street, where
respectable girls are received free and trained for domestic ser-
vice. This latter is a work of great charity, and one whose
usefulness can hardly be overstated. And it is to be regretted
that want of funds impede its development, thus depriviof
many poor girls of what may well be their only chance in
life.*
There are to-day many Night Refuges in London, all of
which are Hoing good work in coping, as far as they may,
with the problem of the houseless. But in most of these io^
stitutions, a sectarian character is traceable; and, with few
exceptions, they are not free. The charges made are small;
two pence for a bed, one halfpenny for a cup of cocoa; one
halfpenny for bread. But, small as the price is, it is often
beyond the means of the poor, while the destitute are neces-
sarily ruled out. The latter have, therefore, no choice but to
apply for admission to the Casual ward, which, besides carry-
ing with it the stigma of pauperism, is not, strictly speaking,
* A detailed •account of the Crispin Street Refuge and Home is given in a charming
hitmoir of 'MoHsignT Gilbert, Compiled by his nephew, John William Gilbert, B.A., who if
he present secretary of the institution. London : Catholic Truth Society.
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a free sbeher, inasnittch ai, in return for a plaak bed and a
basin of thin gruel, the destitute man is obliged to pick oakum
or to break stones. From the nature of the work, the latter
is phj^ically Impossible to the man whose health is impaired
by privation. But until the appointed task is finished, the in-
mate of the Casual ward is not released. And when he is
finally set free, the day is too far advanced for him to obtain
employment.
With these facts in view, it may not be without interest
to mention the salient points of the Night Shelter kX Crispin
Street.
No charge is made for board or lodging; neither is service
required in return. There is no distinction of creed; the Jew
and the Christian receiving an equal welcome. And finally,
each case is inquired into. Pending inquiries, however, the
applicant receives hospitality. As regards meals, every inmate
receives for supper a larger bowl of cocoa and milk, and a roll
of white bread. Breakfast is the same as supper. This is
served at 7:45, and by eight o'clock each man hap set off in
search of employment. The Shelter is open throughout the
winter months, from November i to May i.
According to the wish of the founder, the actual work of
the institution is carried on by the Sisters of Mercy, to whom
be originally entrusted the work. The ownership of the buiUU
ings is vested in trustees, all of whom are laymen, while the
current business affairs are managed by a working committee^
of whom the Superior and the Secretary are members. The
work of the committee is no sinecure, for upon them devolves
the decision of how best to help individual cases. Sometimes,
if a case is reported as particularly deserving, clothes are pro*
vided for those who have obtained employment; or coal tickets
and food are given to those in distress. On other occasions,
tools are released from pledge to enable their owners to se^
cure work; or perhaps a broken down peddler is given a little
stock ; or, if the circumstances seem to warrant it, families are
sometimes started in a little room — the committee supplying
the furniture gratis, and paying the first week's rent. From
this it will be seen that self-help is the guiding principle of
the work; the poor being helped to help themselves.
As regards the every day working of the Refuge, the
doors open as early as five o'clock. But long before that tim^e
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1 88 AMONG THE SUBMERGED {May,
a huddled mass of shivering hum.anity waits outside. There
are two distinct entrances, one leading into the men's wing,
the other belonging to the women's wing. Each is of course
worked on similar lines. Thus on the first night, t. e.^ on the
1st of November, every applicant receives a white ticket. This
is the probationary, ticket which entitles the bolder to board
and lodging pending inquiries* Should the result b^ satisfac-
tory, or if the applicant having done wrong shows a desire for
amendment, a pink ticket is given in place of the white.
Holders pf pink tickets receive three weeks' board and lodging;
though in special cases they may be kept for a longer period,
Thus, on ordinary. nights, there are two sections of appli-
cants, those with white and those with pink cards. When th^
doors open>. the holders of the pink tickets file in first, and for
each night's lodging a notch is cut in the tickejb. Then come
the probationary inmates, and . lastly the new applicants, Until
all the vacancies are taken. They all file into the big room
where benches are ranged alongside the long tables. Here the
women sit; some read, some work. But most of them just
sit there with their arms resting on the table, too tired even
to talk. Down the centre of the. room are twp desks, at one
of which sits the Sister in charge, at the other sits her assist-
ant. Before each is an open book. One ledger contains a
name roll which is called each night; in the other is entered
the particulars of each case. The particulars required are
name, reference, and cause of misfortune. The applicant is
urged to make a candid statement, as mercy is as often shown
to the erring as to the unfortunate.
Among other privileges at Crispin Street every inmate has
the use of the bath rooms, where hot and cold water is laid
on; soap is also provided, and as many clean towels as may
be required. Outside the row of bath rooms is the washing
place. Here, in addition to the washing basins, is a long,
narrow foot bath, measuring from eight to ten feet long. Fre-
quently before supper a row of East End babies sit here in a
row, plashing and crowing, while they are washed by their re-
spective mothers. Close to this is a room where the women
may wash and dry their clothes, or make the necessary re-
pairs.
In the men's section of the Refuge the same order pre-
vails, and they, too, wash their own clothes. But, as if con-
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scious of not being adepts in the art, I saw a poor man, with
guilty haste, withdraw a half- dried garment from before the
fire, as if he had perpetrated a crime and been caught red-
handed.
Here in the men's department the books are kept with the
same business-like precision as in the women's. Occasionally
a police officer comes to seek a defaulter from among the ranks
of the destitute. Perhaps the culprit is not then in the Refuge,
but it may be that the law wishes - to trace his movements
throughout the past few weeks. So the books are opened and
the inspector runs his finger down the neat columns until he
finds the name in question. But, considering the number of
the submerged who pass through the shelter, the malefactors
are few.
The men's dormitory is larger than the women's. It is built
on the same plan, but it contains one hundred and forty bunks,
as compared with one hundred and nine. The bunks are ranged
along two opposite walls, with a double row down the centre
of the dormitory. By the dormitory door are two small cubi-
cles, one on either side, which are occupied — in the women's
section by two Sisters, and in the men's section by a superin-
dent and his assistant. This arrangement secures to the wo-
men and children instant attention in case of sickness, and
among the men the supervision precludes the possibility of
disorder. But it is satisfactory to learn that the conduct of
the inmates is exceptionally good.
The bunks in each dormitory are made of wood, each bunk
being built two feet from the floor and closed in at the foot
by a low wooden door. The space thus enclosed between the
floor and bed-level is utilized as a cupboard, where each in-
mate stores his small possessions as well as his clothes. For,
unlike in the Casual ward and the common lodging house, the
inmate at Crispin Street may divest himself of his superfluous
garments, knowing that they will be untouched during the
night. Otherwise the pauper is constrained to go to bed fully
dressed; whatever else he possesses being wrapped round his
waist, to guard them against robbery.
The bunks stand side by side. There is no space between ;
each is divided from the next by a wooden partition which
rises four or five inches above the mattress. This bunk con-
sists of three deal boards, which being detachable can be
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taken otst and scrubbed. Over the three planks is laid a
flock mattress, covered with oil-cloth. This has the advan-
tage of deanliness ; and in case of infection it may be washed
over in carbolic. A small bolster, and a soft leather cushion
complete the furniture of the bunk during the day. At night
each inmate receives three large sheepskins by way of bed-
covering, in which he wraps himself round: preference being
given to sheepskins rather than to blanketSi in view of their
greater warmth and cleanliness.
As an interesting item, and one not generally known, it is
noteworthy that before .General Booth instituted the Salvation
Army Shelters in London, he first visited Crispin Street to
study Catholic methods. And it is a tribute to the genius of
Monsignor Gilbert, that the institution which he founded in
i860, should continue to be regarded as the model Night Refuge
of the metropolis.
Outside each of the dormitories there is a fire escape — an
iron gallery which runs round the outer wall, and leads down
into an open courtway. Inside the building a fire- saving ap-
paratus has, on several occasions, done good work in saving
the lives and property of their neighbors, to whom the Sisters
lend willing service.
The windows of the men's dormitory look down on a row
of East End houses, soot- laden and grimy. Most of these are
Jewish houses, to judge by the three lighted candles which
shine in their windows each Sabbath eve. Adjoining them was
the synagogue-^— which place of ancient worship has now been
acquired by the Refuge, and is utilized as the men's washing
place.
As I passed along the dormitory, through rows of bunks, I
jH>ticed here and there a brass tablet, bearing the name of some
special benefactor. Of these some were Jews, some Christians,
who, by founding a bed in perpetuity, give testimony to the ex-
cellence of the work done. Among the particular beneCactors
stands the name of Cardinal Manning, who founded ten beds.
It was after the great Dock Strike in London, when as the
People's Friend he had been chosen by both parties as the
common mediator. The situation at this time was one of ex-
treme seriousness, for neither employer nor employed showed
any sign of yielding. And it was only when the labor Car-
dinal raised his voice, and appealed to what was noblest and
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I906.] AMONG THE SUBMERGED 191
best in the human mind, that the magnetism of his personality
bore down all obstacles, reconciling the two warring camps —
the representatives of Capital with those of Labor.
Subsequently the people of England showed their apprecia-
tion of his services by a handsome presentation, half of which
he donated to the Night Refuge at Crispin Street, and half ta
another London charity, both of which institutions were labor-
ing in different ways for the welfare of the homeless poor.
Passing down a flight of stone stairs, and across a flagged
courtway, I finally entered the men's livtng room. There were
one hundred and forty men present But at sight of those
starving men« row upon row, my eyes fell. It was the most
piteous sight I had ever beheld, for here were the men wha
had gone under — dock hands, artisans, tailors, coster-mongers^
navvies, peddlers — men who had sunk, never to rise. But the
destitution seemed even greater among the better classes, to
judge by the refined faces of the majority. Some were in
rags; others had spent their last few pence in procuring a
clean collar. These last were seeking employment, and knew the
valae of a good appearance — for no crime damns like poverty*
But, for the most part, the men were past struggling. So^
with careworn faces, they sat silent, in a tattered crowd, to eat
the bread of charity. And over all there brooded a silence —
that curious, penetrating silence, that is peculiar to them who
are acquainted with grief. It was a silence that seemed to
strike a sudden chill, as if hope was dead and each man was
a mourner.
A free bunk and an evening's meal — such was the sum to-
tal of their worldly desire. The right to live ! It was not
much to ask, yet the boon was not always granted.
• Therefore, in the name of pity, the Crispin Street Night
Shelter opens its doors and bids them welcome — the maimed,
the stricken, and the outcast.
Not as paupers are they received, nor yet as shipwrecked
men; but as members of a common brotherhood, of whom the
greatest had not where to lay his head. For, in truth, it may
be said of the homeless poor that they have tasted '' the sor-
row that God hath willed and Christ hath worn." And so the
submerged live, year in, year out, a pitiless, joyless life,^ while
their feet press the gray road which is to lead them into the
Great Silence.
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MADAME DE MIRAMION.
1629-1696.
BY HON. MRS. M. M. MAXWELL SCOTT.
II.
E now enter on the second part of Mme. de Mira-
mion's life, upon which the episode we have related
had a lasting effect. The long convalescence which
followed her illness gave Marie leisure to think
of the future and to examine herself seriously.
As she found her love for her dead husband unchanged, she
resolved for the future to devote her affections entirely to her
child and to Almighty God. All her hesitation vanished, and
she determined never again to marry. She herself says that,
for a moment, her decision had trembled in the balance, and
for the following reason : '* I was now still more pressed to
marry by my relations, and felt a little tempted to do so from
fear of being again carried off,** Rumors of fresh danger to
that effect had, indeed, caused some alarm to Marie's relations,
so that they willingly consented to her desire to go for a time
to the Visitation Convent in the Rue St. Antoine, where she
would be in safety, and where she could make a retreat to help
her to decide her future course.
The convent chosen by Marie had been founded by St. Jane
Frances de Chantal, in 1625, and had been honored only a
few years before by her last visit, so that when Marie entered
"the walls preserved still, as it were, the good odor of the
passage and the virtues of this holy woman." Here Marie found
peace, and those holy joys which were her delight, and the
thought of St. Jane Frances' life, ot which the sorrows resembled
her own, led her again to wish to follow her in her vocation.
''She occupied herself with thoughts of being a religious,
and of joining the Carmelite Order in some distant place where
she would be unknown." The thought of her little daughter,
however, and her family, made her dread a separation from
them intensely. Torn by doubt and indecision, as to what
God asked of her, Marie turned for help to St. Vincent de
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i9o6.] Madame de Miramion 193
Paul who, although now very old, and overwhelmed with his
great works for souls, still directed the convent. He encouraged
her greatly in her intention of sanctifying her widowhood, but
dissuaded her from entering religious life, and showed her how
she could combine her religious duties and those she owed to
her child, and render her life in the world as meritorious in the
sight of God, and at the same time make it more useful in the
eyes of the world. These wise counsels became from that time
the rule of her life, and, as we shall see, they were echoed by
all who were to direct her conscience. Love of God and of
souls in the world was to be the keynote of her life, and her
oft repeated wish to be a nun was never to be realized.
The three months accorded by Marie to her peaceful seclu-
sion at St. Marie were now ended, and she could not refuse
the entreaties of her brothers and M. de Choisy that she would
return home. Her first care there was to consult with M. de
Pontchartien, her husband's cousin, regarding her child's for-
tune and interests; but ''he, perceiving her wisdom and the
maturity of her judgment," says Choisy, saw that he need not
occupy himself much in the matter, and left her to fulfil most
of the duties of their co-guardianship.
Marie was now twenty, and the four years she had spent in
the seclusion of her home had only added to her beauty and
attraction. Her amiable and kindly character, her boundless
charity, and, above all, her unalterable serenity, drew all hearts
to her; and this happy influence on others, which lasted all
her life, was to become one of the means of the astonishing
fecundity of her good works. Even in her old age " no one
could resist her," says Choisy, and in effect her plans for the
relief of the poor and her prayers for alms nearly always met
with favor and encouragement, though we know also that she
never spared herself in begging, and that her charity refused
no sacrifice and was undaunted by difficulties.
The question of Marie's re-marriage was again discussed
when she returned from the convent, and one suitor, her hus-
band's first cousin, and his equal in charm and excellence, M.
de Caumartin, she herself felt it was difficult to reject. '' It
required great courage to refuse his solicitations," she says.
But this was the last trial of the kind. She wished to inform
her family of her unalterable resolution to remain unmarried;
but her fear of wounding them made her still hesitate to speak
VOL. LXXXIIL^IJ
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194 Madame de Miramion [May,,
the decisive words, and at this crisis God came to her assist*
ance. On Christmas night of this year, 1648, as she was in
prayer before the Blessed Sacrament, in the Church of St.
Nicolas des Champs, she thought she heard God speaking to*
her interiorly in these words : " You come to adore me as a
child; is not my lowliness a mark of my power? Can I not
sustain you in all the conditions in which I wish you to be?
Why do you delay so long, therefore, to give yourself wholly
to me who gave myself wholly to you?"
This interior voice made such an impressioon on Marie that
she remained absorbed in prayer, and only came to herself
when she was told that the church was about to be closed. A
little later, on the Epiphany, when she was in the same church,
still undecided as to what she ought to do, she asked Almighty
God what she could offer him on this feast, on which the kings
had given him all that they had of most value, and she thought
she heard these words: '' It is your heart that I wish for, and
that it should be mine wholly." She had at the same time a
lively perception of what God required of her, and remained
for some hours almost in an ecstasy. After these graces there
could be no hesitation, and Marie's mother-in-law, to whom,
she confided her decision never to marry, undertook to infotm
the family of it.
It was settled that Marie should, meanwhile, again leave
home for a short time, aiid she withdrew to the new house oi
the Grey Sisters, where she was welcomed with open arms by
the saintly foundress. Mile, le Gras, and where she made a.
retreat under the direction of St. Vincent himself. Here she
received another supernatural favor, which we must give ia
her own words, written by order of her confessor : ** In the
night of the i8th to 19th January, 1649," she says, "between
two and three in the morning, being in retreat at Mile, le
Gras*, and in bed, I felt as if some one gave me a blow oiv
the shoulder, and I woke saying: 'I am coming,' thinking it
was one of the sisters who had come to wake me to go down-
to the chapel. On opening my eyes I saw a great light in my
bed, as if the sun were shining. I was much surprised, think-
ing it must be very late. I heard an interior voice which-
said : ' Do not be alarmed, it is I who am thy Lord and thy
Master.' I threw myself on my knees on my bed. 'Do not
search further to discover my will, and do not be anxious. I
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i9o6.] Madame de Miramion 195
assure thee that I desire thee to be mine wholly and entirely.
Thy heart is not too large for me. I desire that thou shouldst
be wholly mine, and think only of my interests. I will be thy
spouse and thou mine. Promise to be so. Renounce false joys.
Thou wilt have trials, be faithful in declaring them and they
will not harm thee. Thy humiliation will be pleasing to me.
I will be in the midst of thy heart. Delay no longer, the
time has come. This is my will.' I adored God and his mercy,
and thanked him for delivering me from the painful state I
was in, by making known his will to me. I then felt a great
mistrust of myself, but it seemed to me that God said to
me: 'Am I not powerful enough?' I was consoled and
strengthened, and felt myself quite ready to make a vow of
chastity, but I seemed to hear this answer: 'Wait, tell him
who directs thee what I have said, and obey him, but relate
all that has passed.' I promised to tell it; the light then dis-
appeared, which surprised me very much, as I thought it was
broad daylight, and as I, full of what had occurred, rose to
thank God and make my meditation, three o'clock struck. My
meditation was one act of thanksgiving. I went back to bed,
but could not sleep. Next day I felt very cold towards Al-
mighty God, having difficulty 'in believing what had taken
place in the night. I had difficulty, too, in resolving to speak
of it ; but I told all to my director, who did not doubt that it
was from God. He made me write down what had occurred,
and consulted M. Vincent (St. Vincent de Paul) on the matter,
and it was settled that I should make a vow of chastity, which
I did on the 2d of February following. Sinpe then I have
never doubted my vocation. I have had trials, .but never any
doubts as to God's will, and what passed during that night
has always been present to my mind." " So great a step,"
says the Abb^ de Choisy, " attached her wholly to God's
service; and from this moment to the last of her life she con-
tinually advanced in virtue."
When Marie returned home she commenced her new life,
and became more than ever like the "true widow" described
by St. Francis of Sales, "who, like a violet, diffuses an incom-
parable sweetness by the odor of her devotion, and keeps her-
self constantly hidden under the large leaves of her abjection."
Although she had already given up wearing colors, laces, or
Jewels, she now wore only plain dark dresses of woolen ma-
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196 Madame de Miramion [May,
terial, and her rich bed and furniture disappeared to make room
for a '* bed of gray clothi without ornament."
Her day was divided between prayer, her duties to her child
and relations, and to the poor and afflicted, who gradually ab-
sorbed more and more of her time.
The little Marie Marguerite de Miramion was always deli-
cate, and her many illnesses kept her mother anxious, but in
spite of constant alarms the child grew up, and was destined
for a long life. Mme. de Miramion herself had a serious ill-
ness about this time, and, although she recovered, it was found
that she had a cancer which became a lifelong cause of heroic
suffering. '' Her complaint was to her henceforth an habitual
penance, she suffered it almost gaily, and many of those who
knew her never suspected what cruel pain she had to bear."
After some years of this quiet home life, the moment came
when Marie had to consider her daughter's future. Many suit-
ors of high position aspired to ally themselves with Mile, de
Miramion, and, embarrassed to make a choice, " the mother and
daughter prayed much and gave alms to beg Almighty God
to inspire them on such an important occasion." When M. de
Lamoignon came to beg the hand of Marie Marguerite for his
nephew, M. le Coaseiller de Nesmond, every wish seemed grati-
fied, and Mme. de Miramion cordially accepted the proposaL
The young man was the son of the famous President Theodore de
Nesmond, whom he resembled in character, and being also good-
looking and amiable soon made himself acceptable to his fiancee.
On June 22, 1660, says Hozier in VArmoricU de Franc^^
Mile. Marie Mjarguerite de Beauhamais de Miramion was mar*
ried in Paris to Messire Guillaume de Nesmond, Chevalier,
Seigneur of Saint Dizan, Counsellor of the King, and Master
of Requests. Marie now made over to her daughter all the
family jewels and her father's properties, with the revenues
from them, which she had put by for fourteen years and which
now represented an enormous sum.
The bride, true daughter of her mother, desiring that the
poor should share in the joy of the occasion, refused M. de
Nesmond's rich presents, and proposed to him that, instead of
buying her more jewels, he should give a thousand louts to
the poor of Paris. This generous suggestion '' was accepted
with pleasure by all the family, and immediately put in exe-
cution.'' Marie, on her side, marked the event by founding
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i9o6.] Madame de Miramion 197
tvclve new beds in the General Hospital, partly with her own
money, and, according to the advice of M. de Lamoignon,
partly by an appeal to her family and friends. To her the
sorrow of parting from her only child must have been inten9c«
With her usual unselfishness, however, she herself conducted
the young wife to her new home, and encouraged her to de-
vote herself to her husband and her new family, and showed
her how to manage her money and property, not forgetting to
place the poor at the head of the list of her future expenses.
Although only fifteen^ Mme. de Nesmond proved worthy of her
education and her mother's counsels, and was soon able "to
administer her fortune and her house with a propriety which
established her in the world in a position of esteem and con«
sideration which she preserved all her life."
Mme. de Miramion's chief earthly duty was now accom-
plished, and the record of her later years is one of unceasing
charity. She was to be the moving spirit in so many great
works that it seems impossible to do more than select a few
for illustration here. Her own vocation was a most curious
one. With a great leaning for religious life, she was, through
obedience, never to be a nun, and yet was to lead the life of
a religious and to be the guide of many souls in that state.
About this time, hearing that some nuns from Picardy, whose
convent had been ruined in the war, were in Paris in the greatest
poverty, she gave them hospitality for six months, serving them
at their meals, and joining in their exercises of piety.
A little later she had the privilege of founding the first
Refuge for Penitent Women, going herself daily to instruct
them with tender charity, and at last, in 1661, she made the
final sacrifice of leaving her brothers and her home and going
to live with a few poor girls in a small house. She called
this little community by the name of the Holy Family, The
sisters learnt how to dress wounds, bleed, and make up ordin-
ary remedies for the sick poor, and lived in common, follow-
ing a simple rule which she had asked her confessor to draw
up, and which had received St. Vincent's approval only a few
days before his death.
Soon after this Marie's director, the Abbe du Festel, died,
and she had recourse to the Abbe Ferret, Cure of St. Nicolas
du Chardonnet, a holy and distinguished priest. He was Su-
perior of the Carmelite Convent, and also of a little commu-
nity living in his parish, called the Daughters of St. Genevieve
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198 MADAME DE MiRAMION [May,
which, like the Holy Family, bad been founded for the instruc-
tion and relief of the poor, but the funds were so small as to
hardly permit the sisters to live. M. Ferret, knowing Mme. de
Mirainion's zeal, tried to interest her in the sisters, and finally
asked her to unite them to her own foundation, assuring her
that it was the only way of securing a permanent existence
for both ; to this Marie, who was always ready for good works,
and had no ambition to be considered a foundress, gladly agreed,
and the double community was henceforth called by the title
of ''The Daughters of St. Genevieve," and was soon estab-
lished in two houses on the Quai de la Tournelle, near the
Church of St. Nicolas du Chardonnet and to Mme. de Nes-
mond*s residence. Marie was elected Superioress for life of
the new community, which the people, in gratitude for her
charity, soon came to call that of The Miramiones. Here,
then, was to be Marie's home for the rest of her life, except
for a few occasions when duty or charity called her elsewhere-
Her reputation for holiness and wisdom led others, on sev-
eral occasions, to seek her help in starting, or bringing fresh
life to, religious or charitable works. It is one of the privi-
leges of holiness to find time for everything, and certainly
Marie's life is a testimony to this truth. Although scrupu-
lously following the rule of her community life, she was fore-
itiost also in all the great charitable undertakings of the day,
and was besieged in her quiet retreat by great people of the
world, and even ecclesiastics, who came to her for advice and
guidance. Among her intimate friends we find Mme. de Main
tenon, the Princess de Conti, Mme. d'Aiguillon, and a host of
others, nor was Louis XIV. slow to admire her virtue. He
had entire trust in her judgment and zeal, and in later years
begged her to replace Mile, de Lamoignon as the almoner
of his charities. The multitude of her outward duties alarmed
Marie's humility, and caused her to feel great scruples; but
obedience silenced her fears and helped her to follow her vo-
cation, and to undertake each new duty for souls simply and
devotedly.
Having given up everything but a carriage — very necessary
m the Paris of that day — she wished also to sacrifice that, but
this her director forbade, so she kept it, although, as was
noticed, it was much more for the use of others than for her
own benefit. Her health continued wretched, and soon after
the foundation of the Miramiones she was seized with fits of
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i9o6.] Madame de Miramion 199
severe sickness which lasted for man^ryewr^ **^httt," says her
biographer, '' as several tiroes during her meditation God sent
her the thought that there were souls destined here below to
do penance for other sinners, she thought she understood that
she was one of these privileged ones, and that if her suffer-
ings were accepted and offered to God in the spirit of penance,
her sacrifices might thus contribute to the salvation of souls."
This thought consoled her, and when she mentioned it to her
confessor, in 1675, he encouraged her, urging her to accept all
she had suffered for fifteen years and to be ready to suffer still
more for the conversion of poor sinners; " for," added he, "the
time for self-imposed penance has not yet come. When God
wishes to accept your sacrifice he will give you a visible sign,
by curing you of your sickness." Not long after this, M. Ferret
died, and on the day after his funeral Marie was suddenly cured
of her sickness. Fearing some illusion she consulted the new
Cur^ of St. Nicolas and four doctors, who all considered her
-cure to be supernatural, and with the Curb's permission she
began again to practise the most severe austerities and penances
for the conversion of sinners.
Two occasions of historic interest are specially connected
with Mme. de Miramion ; one in 1670 when, at the time df
Madame's sad death, Marie's brother, M. de Purnon, one of the
attendants on the Princess, was for a moment implicated in
the false suspicion attaching to the Chevalier de Lorraine of
having poisoned her; and again when she went to St. Cyr at
Mme. de Maintenon's invitation to see the representation of
*' Esther." " We are playing to-day for the saints," writes
Mme. de Maintenon of this occasion ; and Says Mme. de
Sevign^: "Mme.de Miramion and eight Jesuits, including Pere
Giillard, honored with their presence the last representation."
And now, to use Bossuet's words, we have considered " how
she made use of her life, to come to a very happy death." In
the March of 1696 the Cardinal de Noailles, Archbishop of Paris,
having published a jubilee to mark his accession, Mme. de Mi-
ramion profited by it to have a retreat for the poor preached
at her convent, and followed it herself with the utmost devotion.
*' The love of God, which she had chosen for the subject of her
meditations, penetrated her soul in so strong and lively a man-
ner that one would have said she had almost ceased to be-
long to the earth."
A second retreat, this time for ladies, was also given, and
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200 MADAME DE MiRAMION [May,
in this Marie also took a part, but before the end she was sud^
denly called to Versailles to assist the Duchesse de Guise on
her deathbed. This pious princess had feared death all her
life, but at the sight of Marie, who hfid a special gift of con-
soling the dying, this fear left her, and after receiving the last
Sacraments she died peacefully in her friend's arms, Marie,
who was now aged, and who had spent several nights in at*
tending on the duchesse, returned to Paris on March i8, worn
out by fatigue, and was seized the next day with her last ill-
ness. Thus we may say that she died as she had lived, in the
exercise of charity, and sacrificed herself to the last. Her suf-
ferings, which lasted for six days, were intense, and every
remedy was tried in vain, though Marie obediently took all that
were proposed. Her only fear was lest the pain should make
her impatient.
She was anointed, but at first the great nausea made it
impossible for her to receive Holy Viaticum* When this
ceased, she was told that the Blessed Sacrament would be
brought to her, and forgetting all her suffering she joyfully
prepared herself to receive her Lord. '' Sitting up in bed, im-
movable through respect, with her hands clasped, her eyes
lifted sometimes to heaven, sometimes to the Sacred Host, her
face inflamed with ardent love," she received Holy Viaticum.
Mme. de Nesmond who, with the Sisters of St. Genevieve, sur-
rounded her, implored her to ask God to cure her.
'' My daughter," she answered, with a radiant countenance,
'Mt is time to go to enjoy him. I have often offended him,
but I trust in his mercy."
As she suffered greatly and often kissed a crucifix she held
in her hand, Mme. de Nesmond said : '' Our Lord attaches you
to the cross."
'' I am too happy in the share which he grants me," she
replied. '* I give you this dear crucifix, my daughter, it has
been mine for thirty years."
Some of her last thoughts were for her poor, and she dic-
tated to her daughter a letter to Mme. de Maintenon, to beg
that the King would continue his charity to some of the works
she had founded.
" How, madame," said her confessor, who feared she would
fatigue herself, ^^ do you think of anything except Godf*^
"Yes, sir"; she replied, ^^ when it is for God.**
After the letter had been written Marie conversed for a
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i9o6 ] Madame de Miramion 201
long time with her confessor, and she herself held the blessed
candle while she made her profession of faith, and renewed
her baptismal vows. At one moment, when those round her
thought she was just dying, her confessor said to her: "Mad-
ame, you have hardly any pulse, but you have a heart. What
must you do with it ? "
She roused herself to say: "I must love God with it";
and a little later, when he asked her in what disposition she
wished God to find her, she replied : '' In the exercise of his
holy love."
For two days longer she remained between life and death,
but at last the supreme moment came. Mme. de Nesmond, on
her knees by the bed, asked her mother to bless her. ''My
dear daughter," said Marie, " do not weep. Thank God for
the grace he has given you. Love him and serve him with
all your heart. That is the only good. One is very happy
at the hour of death to have belonged wholly to him. If he
has mercy on me, ah ! how I will pray to him for you."
Very soon after this, on Saturday, the 24th of March, at
midday, Marie gave up her holy soul to God. The street out-
side had been blocked for days by carriages and poor people,
and as soon as Mme. de Miramion was dead the crowd burst
open the doors of the convent and insisted on seeing her who,
for fifty years, had devoted herself to the consolation of the
afflicted. "The poor wept for her as if they had lost a mother."
For two days the body remained exposed to the veneration of
all ''on the bed itself on which she seemed to have fallen
asleep in the Lord."
Marie was buried, as she had desired, quite simply, as a
Daughter of St. Genevieve, and was borne to the church by
six poor men, followed by her religious daughters, her family,
and friends, and by many of those whom she had rescued
from misery. " In all the streets through which the proces-
sion passed there was an immense crowd who, in losing her,
seemed to have lost all." Her body was interred in a part of
the Cemetery of St. Nicolas de Chardonnet, touching the
Chapel of St. Genevieve, where she had so often prayed, and
where her heart was now placed.
At the time of the Revolution her tomb shared the fate of
so many others, and was destroyed, but her memory remains
to us ever fresh in the history of the great charities of France.
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NARCISSUS.
BY JEANIE DRAKE,
■' Author of In Old St, S4t^ken*s, The MetfopoKtans, etc., etc.
Chapter I.
*' Do a day, alack the day 1
Lov«, whose month is ever May,
Spied a blossom passing fair
Playing in the wanton air."
F the people in the little town of Martres could
have had a good look at the sun on this afternoon
in early May, they would have seen that he was
taking leave of them right royally, showering
down a parting flood of glory with kingly prodi-
gality, alike on the green shelving banks of the river, and on
the snow- caps of the distant mountain peaks. But they could
not, for a dense cloud of smoke hung ovet them, rising from
their many pottery fires, and they were busy down there tend-
ing the furnaces. Besides, the waters of the Garonne had
flowed swiftly past their town, and the sun had shone over
the lofty Pyrenees every afternoon since they had been born ;
and would in all likelihood flow on and shine on until they
died. Therefore, neighbors talked rather of tiles and vases and
bowls, and what a fine show they hoped to make of them at
the Grand Exp3sition in Paris this summer.
Clearly, the sun had a better chance of being appreciated
by the American family staying for a while at the old Cha-
teau Rochefort on the hill. For did not the young men some-
times sketch a ruin or a bit of scenery touched by him, and
did not the young lady often sit on the terrace watching him
as he went down ? So there his beams lingered longest and
most lovingly, making quite a picture of the old place, bring-
ing out the dull red of the bricks in turrets and belfry, and
making each small pane shine brightly in the narrow, old-
fashioned windows, half-hidden with trailing vines.
A light breeze from the river swayed the tops of the olive
trees in the grove near the house, and rustled the leaves of
the cabbages in the kitchen garden, frightening a predatory
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i9o6] Narcissus 203
rabbit there who scuffled off thinking that his day had surely
come. An atmosphere of calm and utter drowsiness seemed
to hang orer the courtyard of the ch&teau, increased by £
low humming of bees from a hive near by, and the cooing of the
pigeons as they stepped daintily over the broken, mossy bricks
of the pavement, with breasts protruded and little heads on
one side, coquetting with their companions. A sudden flight
of one of these to the basin of a long disused fountain, where
a nymph quite green from age held a dry and broken urn,
served occasionally to waken old Jeanneton, where she sat in
snowy cap and collar in the kitchen doorway, with a rosary
slipping between her fingers. Then she would murmur another
" Sainte Marie^ mire de Dieu** for " Madame so amiable," asleep
just now in her room; or for " /« bonne petite demoiselle** ;
and would then fall to thinking that the Holy Virgin would
surely ** excuse a little sleepiness in a poor old woman who has
had sole charge of the place since the last de Rochefort died
there ; who does everything for the summer tenants ; for, as for
Pierre, who comes every day to help — well, boys will be boys,
you know, and Pierre is more vaurien than most"; and then —
and then — a gentle snore.
If it was la bonne petite demoiselle at whom the last sun-
beams were peeping through the casement of the wainscotted
room within, then she was evidently not, like her seniors, in-
clined for either piety or sleep just now. With her large brown
eyes all shining, and her hair gathered high and powdered
white as snow, a silken gown trailing behind her, and black
velvet ribbons on neck and wrists marking their roundness and
whiteness, she was dressed to imitate the portrait of one of the
dead and gone Dames de Rochefort, which she was studying
alternately with her own reflection in a cracked and antique
mirror.
" I do look like Dame Jacqueline ! " exultantly. ** Now, do
I not. Jack ? " turning to appeal to a lad of sixteen or so, who
sat lazily astride a chair and watched her proceedings with eyes
very like her own.
"You do," promptly said he; "except that you look like
a naughty girl, and she looks very good. Perhaps, however,*'
consolingly, *'a few years of fasting and praying may give you
a saintly expression too."
** Bah I " contemptuously, " I imagine one year of a husband
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204 Narcissus [May,
like Sir Hugues there beside her would be enough to make me
an angel in heaven, as it did her. • Yes, you old monster ! ''
^reaching up to shake a small fist between the fierce black eyes
of Sir Hugues' pictured scowl, ''you know you killed her! I
found it all out in that musty chronicle yesterday. When she
was not on her knees to heaven, she was to you / "
" Desperate villains — all those old seigneurs and barons/'
said Jack, with trenchant decision. " But, Marjorie," curiously,
" what have you got in that little box ? "
"Oh," with a sudden revival of interest in vanities, "yes;
these are my patches. Dame Jacqueline, you see, has four, but
I shall only wear three. I don't quite like that anchor at the
comer of her mouth. You put them on for me. Jack — that's a
good boy. I can't see well in that old glass."
"All right," said Jack, upsetting the chair in his zeal.
" Give me the box. Now, where do you put 'em ? And will
they stick dry so ? "
"Oh, dear, no; I forgot — here," moistening one delicately
with her lips, "now, put that on my chin."
" Close to the dimple, eh ? You have not such a bad chin,
Marjorie, my dear," fastening on two others; "if only your
nose did not turn up a suspicion you would be almost as good-
looking as your beloved Jack. Never mind," consolingly, "if
the worst comes to the worst, I'll marry you myself! Now,
what are you going to do with this big round piece that is
left? Marjorie" — coaxingly — "/// me put it on the tip of your
nose? It would look so coquettish."
" So comical, you mean," beginning to laugh. " Well, go
on; I don't mind." And this operation completed, the cousins
laughed together in youthful joyousness. "What do you sup-
pose Sir Hugues would have said if Jacqueline had come down
to breakfast with a patch on her nose like this?"
" He would have cut her throat ! " pronounced Jack, with
. conviction.
" Do I look so funny ? Oh I why does not Will come ?
He is staying so long in town with those Baltimore friends ot
his, and I wanted him to see me. Now, shall I waken Auntie,
or shall I frighten Jeanneton and make her think it is Dame
Jacqueline's ghost? I believe I will waken Auntie."
So she daintily gathered up her silken train, and out on
her high-heeled slippers into the hall, and — into the arms of
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her cousin Will ; and was confusedly conscious of strange faces
— several strange faces behind him.
"My cousin. Miss Fleming/' said Will, with admirable
presence of mind, steadying her on her feet. "Mrs. Carhart,
Miss Carhart, and Miss Mary Carbart, Mr. Carhart."
Now, it is all very well to look grotesque in the bosom
of one's family, but a large black patch on the nose is a dis-
advantage on being presented to strangers; and when that
patch is of such singular adhesiveness that one, two, three violent
scrubs with one's handkerchief fails to bring it off, the case be-
comes maddening. The fourth scrub succeeded in detaching
it, and by that time she was able to observe that the strange
ladies were regarding her with some little wonder; and, while
the gentleman bowed quite gravely, there was a suspicious
gleam of amusement in his dark eyes.
Being a woman, this naturally determined her on hating the
whole party, and she led the way back into the room with an
air of lofty dignity which would have become Lady Macbeth.
A slight scuffle, produced by Jack escaping through a window
into the court3rard, caused a vow of vengeance to be registered
against him^ and then she proceeded to entertain her guests
with freezing politeness.
" Did they make any stay in Martres ? No ? Were leaving
in the early* morning diligence ? Perhaps that was wise, as they
would probably not enjoy Martres. A pretty place, but quiet;
and certainly, a^ they said, very smoky. Was it not quite a
great deal out of their way if they were going to Bagnires de
Bigorre ? Oh, it was Mr. Carhart who wished to see her cousin
Will, his former class- mate at Heidelberg ? That was very nice.
And she hoped that they would enjoy the rest of their summer
wanderings, and trusted that the air of Bigorre would entirely re-
store the younger Miss Carhart's health. And so on, and so on."
Will, indeed, was very glad to escort his friends down the
steep garden path out to the crooked little street, and had the
satisfaction, as the breeze wafted their voices back to him, of
hearing them pronounce his cousin '' extremely pretty, but not
at all agreeable."
He went back to find that young lady looking serenely
virtuous and to say to her with some reproach : " I am sorry,
Marjorie, that you do not like the Carharts. They are such
pleasant people."
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2o6 Narcissus [May,
" Why, my dear Will, I do like them. It is true the mother
seems a little pompous, and the elder daughter is undoubted-
ly aflfected — you cannot deny that; and the younger looked
snappish, I thought — "
"There, there, Marjorie!" with an irrepressible burst of
laughter; "it is evident that you do like them. I shall only
beg you never to like me in that peculiar fashion."
" Will," she said, with a sudden change of manner which
was her great charm, going up quite close to him and laying a
soft hand on his arm. "Will," penitently, "I know I behaved
like a vixen ; but it, was aggravating to have a black spot on
one's nose which would not come off. And that man dared to
look amused ! " with rising wrath. " Well, one comfort — they
will all be gone to-morrow."
"Not all," stooping to touch her hand with his blond
moustache, and also to hide a little trepidation. "You see,
Philip came out of his way to meet me, and he hates the
fashionable routine of Bigorre, and is interested in Roman ruins
and things, you know, about here; and as he has wretched
lodgings down in the town, I have asked him — I told him he
might — in fact, I invited him to share my room, and he is to*
send up his traps to-night."
"What!" stepping back, "that supercilious man is coming
to spoil all our good times in dear old Martres? Very well, I
shall beg Auntie to take me back to Paris at once," making for
the door.
"Stop, Marjorie! I can go down to him, you know, and
tell him — explain — excuse myself — say you'd rather be alone. "^
"Oh, certainly"; with irony, "and make a general mess of
it like any other man. No, the thing is done now, but you
need not expect me to be civil to him. And I mean to spend
this evening in my room."
" Oh, no, Marjorie ! " entreatingly ; but the little maiden was
already half way up the staircase, her softly flushed cheeks and
shining eyes looking down at her cousin over the rails; a sight
fair enough, he thought, to make the pictured Dames de Roche-^
fort spring from their portrait frames' and do her some harm
out of pure jealousy.
Thus it came about that Philip Carhart was received this
evening by Mrs. Fleming as sole hostess, a gentle, sweet- faced
woman, in widow's cap, whose entire occupation in life, outside
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many charities, was to spoil her two sons and her orphan niece.
For the latter's absence she now made some unintelligible ex-
cuse» which was received by the guest with courtesy and pro-
found disbelief. Meanwhile the young lady in question amused
herself at her turret window eating Jeanneton's crisp galeties^y
and watching what she might see, which was the far-off moun-
tains and picturesque ruins on the hill- sides, and the banks
of the Garonne and its waters, covered slowly with a creeping
evening haze, which finally made one with the smoke of the
town. And the latter changed with the darkness, like the
Israelites' pillar, into an upward streaming mass of flame and
brilliant sparks, as night made visible the fires in the potters*^
furnaces. Now^ if Jack would only come up for her, they might
slip out unperceived, by the back way, and go down and visit
Etienne, whose father owned the largest pottery in Martres;
and he would show them those gorgeous tiles of his own de-
signing, which would be packed up and sent to Paris in a day
or two. But Jack did not come up ; and even if he had, could
she, with any self-respect, accept the escort of a boy who had
been shying stones at the pigeons in the courtyard that after-
noon when he should have been lending her the moral support
of his presence during a scrape he had helped to bring her into t
"I trow not!'* she murmured, in Dame Jacqueline vein.
Presently she saw her aunt come out and stroll up and down
the garden paths, breaking off and crumbling between her fingers
fragrant orange leaves and wis)iing for her^ she knew. Then
among the fire-flies and glow-worms appeared three small for-
eign luminaries which she recognized for two cigars and a ciga-
rette, the latter Jack's compromise, in the matter of smoking,
with his mother, who innocently supposed the lesser weed
would hurt him less. Fragments of their talk floated up to
her. The Rhine, old student days at Heidelberg, friends at
home, the heterogeneous crowd flocking to Bigorte, the won-
drous aspect of this Martres at night, " when," said Mr. Car-
hart, ''Vulcan seemed to set up his smithy in the heart of the
Pyrenees."
"* Come into the garden, Maud,' " chanted that shameless Jack
uhder her window. Whereupon Mr. Carhart, flicking at the
ashes of his cigar, expressed, in perfectly resigned tones, his
extreme desolation at Miss Fleming's headache, and elicited a
suppressed chuckle from Jack, and a cheery : ^' Oh, she will be
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2o8 Narcissus [May,
all right to-morrow/' from Will; which convinced her that it
was very foolish to spite oneself, and that she had better go
to bed. Sleeping she dreamed that Philip Carhart, as Sir
Hugues, was sternly commanding her to go down on her knees
to him, which she resolutely refused to do and utterly defied
him.
Chapter II.
But an unwelcome guest ' is not reason strong enough to
keep " sweet-and- twenty " in her room on a fair May morning.
Indeed, no, thought Marjorie, and was up betimes and arrayed
in gala costume of spotless white and out into the garden to
gather a big bunch of daisies and scarlet poppies for her belt.
In the breakfast-room Jack, after striking an attitude before
her of deepest awe and admiration, dropped into colloquialism
and asked "if her young man had come to town, that she had
made herself so lovely ? "
"No''; said Will, "she is such a determined little match-
maker, I fancy she has been straightening matters between
pretty Nicolette at the mill and her Etienne ; and probably the
wedding comes off to-day and our Marjorie gives away the bride."
No response was vouchsafed to either, unless a withering look
at Jack should count ; but, " why. Auntie," she said — " Good
morning, Mr. Carhart; thank you, my head is better — why,
Auntie, where are your flowers for the f^te ? Here, take some
of mine."
"What fete, my dear?" Mrs. Fleming asked, with a fond
look at the girl.
" Oh, Auntie," reproachfully, " have you forgotten ? Why,
it is St. Vidian's day."
Jeanneton, placing fruit on the table, raised hands and eyes
to heaven that Madame should have forgotten the blessed saint's
fete ; then trotted off, clattering in her sabots to hunt up that
lazy Pierre and make his life a burden to him.
" St. Vidian ; that's rather an unusual name, is it not ? "
asked Will.
" Not so odd as St. Poppo or St. Bobo," replied Jack, " and
there were saints of those curious appellations. A saint by any
name can pray as well."
" How do you know ? " asked Marjorie severely. " I should
think you had very little to do with the saints."
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I906.] NARCISSUS 209
"I am generally in company with you, my dear," meekly.
"Ah/' said Will, disregarding this small passage- at- arms,
''then that is why I was wakened before six this morning by
that fearful tooting of horns over at the old watch tower."
"Just so, my child," replied his younger brother with lev-
ity, "and that is why the whole population has been astir for
hours, and why the furnaces are left to take care of them-
selves to-day, and why the people are pouring in from every-
where by all the highroads and the byroads."
"St. Vidian— St. Vidian," repeated Philip Carhart. "I
never heard of him before. Who was he ? "
Marjorie raising her head from her coffee cup to answer,
and looking full at him in the morning light, decided that he
was handsome, in a dark coloring quite different from Will's
blond comeliness. "St. Vidian," she explained, "was one of
Charlemagne's preux chevaliers^ who had defended Martres often
and bravely against Saracen invaders, and in the last great
battle here performed prodigious feats of arms ; but, afterwards,
while stanching his wounds at a fountain near the town, was
surprised by the Moors and slain. To- day," she added, "they
celebrate the feast commemorating his virtues and bravery. And
we" — beg^inning to fidget with joyous impatience — "we must
hurry and get breakfast over; and you boys," to her cousins,
'' must have gay and festive boutonniires, which I will give you ;
and we must all go to church."
"And may not I have a boutonniere, too, and go to church?"
asked Philip.
" If — if you care to, certainly," with shyness quite new to her.
" You will be delighted with St. Vidian's bust in the vesti-
bule of the church," declared Jack, "though it is dark from
age and rather gloomy. They have his comb in the vestry.
It is of heroic size."
"They were large in those days," suggested Mrs. Flemingp
placidly.
" Pedro the muleteer told me a story about that comb
yesterday," said Jack, disposed to be conversational, now that
the keen edge was taken off his appetite. "It appears there
was a woman from Caz&res who came here with her husband
on a market day long ago. The comb was not then under
lock and key, as now; so this woman, after praying in the
chapel, made off with the comb hidden in her scarlet capulet.
VOL. Lxxxiii — 14
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2 1 o Narcissus [May^
Her husband remarked that she scarcely spoke a word od
their way homeward, but this did not grieve him a bit. When
they reached the boundary line between Martres and Cazeres,
however, she stopped suddenly and declared that she could
not move. Husband tried to pull her along. No use. Cart
coming down from the mountain drawn by three cows. They
asked the driver's assistance. She held on to the cart while
they goaded the cows. Her arms ached, but her feet stuck
fast to earth. Then came some Spaniards with mules all over
bells and red trappings, you know. They tried to drag her
on, holding to one of the mules. All in vain. So, as night
was coming and their home distant, she thought it best to
confess the theft. The clergy who were keeping vigil at the
saint's shrine came at once with bell and book and censer^
took the relic from the woman, and then she was set free.
But the comb has been locked up ev«r since that day.''
''Our cur^," said good Mrs. Fleming, "explains many of^
these old local traditions, some as springing from simple and
childlike piety. Others with, besides, a flavor of the shrewd-
ness of the natives, mingling with their undoubted faith. Why^
they probably argued, should Cazires, where our saint did not
belong, feel such jealousy of our possession of his relics. They
should understand at once that he can and will defend his own.
And a marvel supporting this point of view is readily believed
in both places." Then she gave the signal for rising from
table, to Marjorie's great joy.
That young woman's impatience to be gone was now ren-^
dered intense by braying of musical instruments and ringing
of bells and sounds of shouting from the distant town. Her
pretty white " picture " hat with waving plumes was speedily
donned, and the promised boutonni^res fastened in the young
men's coats by her deft fingers. Philip's downward gaze made
the arrangement of his pomegranate bud the most troublesome
duty, apparently disagreeable, one might say, for she took oc-
casion, while pinning Will's flower, to whisper saucily : " So,
Don Magnifico condescends to go with us! We really ought
to have heralds and trumpets to announce our coming ! '^
which lightened the heart of that young man as a proof that
Philip's dark fascinations had as yet produced no effect. He
almost felt inclined to condole with the unconscious Mr. Car-
hart, for surely that man was to be pitied whom Marjorie dis*
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I906.] NARCISSUS 211
liked I He would know in later years that a woman's gentle
ridicule does not necessarily mean distaste for its object.
Master Jack submitted to the boutonniere with manly resig-
nation, but at the last moment declared himself too much in-
disposed to go, and flung himself on a lounge, plunging his
curly head among the pillows with many heart-rending groans.
His anxious mother's prayer to stay with him, however, met
with a positive refusal; and he would only promise to take
some of Jeanneton's herb tea which he asserted was "Just the
thing. Herb tea was so soothing."
Some last instructions from Marjorie to Jeanneton about a
bunch of cornflowers on the table, to be given to Nicolette
when she should call for them bye and bye, and they were
off at last. Their way led directly down a steep hill, past the
garden gate, where the narrow path partially paved with bro-
ken tiles and bits of dishes made walking a feat requiring both
care and practice. Will went on, assisting his mother.
"That was a pretty costume you wore yesterday after*
noon, Miss Fleming," said Philip, making talk with his silent
companion. " Did it represent an individual character or mere-
ly a period?"
"It was the costume of one of the Dames de Rocheforti
who used to live here long ago. I am glad you liked it," with
lofty politeness. Then, to discover how much he knew, she
said with deep artfulness : " My — my patches kept coming off
and rather annoyed me."
" I bad not perceived that," said Philip calmly. " I no-
ticed you held your handkerchief before your face — to screen
your rouge from the daylight, I confess I thought, until I had
the pleasure of really seeing your complexion."
We believe very readily what we wish to believe, and Philip
reaped the benefit of this unmitigated falsehood in a sudden
access of friendly feeling on Marjorie's part. Quick to per-
ceive this — "Take my arm," he said promptly and persuasive-
ly ; '' see how carefully Will guides his mother, and these
streets are really dangerous."
" Crockery lanes. Jack calls them," said Marjorie with a
laugh, accepting the proffered arm ; then, as that action seemed
to melt the film of ice between them, she went on confiden-
tially : " Do you know, I don't believe that boy is a bit sick.
He is up to some mischief. I saw it in his ^y^s,**
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2 1 2 NARCISSUS [May,
Was this gracious maiden the same stately personage who
had nearly petrified his family party yesterday ! thought Philip
in amaze. But it was his habit to take the goods the gods
provided, without too much questioning ; and if they were kind
enough to throw a charming girl in his way — during the month
or so which he meant to spare from his career to recruit —
why, what better use for dark eyes and eloquent tongue than
to interest her and incidentally amuse himself ? Not that he
was a coxcomb, but he was accustomed to regard his fine face
and form as counters in the game of life; of less value, cer-
tainly, than his mental gifts; but, like them, to be tested oc-
casionally, that he might be sure that they remained at their
best.
So the two fell into easy, careless chatting as they threaded
their way down the hill, past their own plateau with its olive
groves and terraced vineyards ; and they were presently, all of
them, entering the town where the streets grew even narrower
and the tops of the opposite begrimed houses almost touched
each other. Now they had quite enough to do to force their
way through the constantly thickening crowd which thronged
in the direction of the church. From every side the people
poured in, and all in their holiday attire. It was evident that
St. Vidian's fame was far-spread, for there were sturdy peas-
ants from St. Martory, in cotton velvet and red caps; girls
from St. Gaudens. with tall head-dresses and silver crosses
round their necks; peddlers and colporteurs hastening to de-
posit their small wares in some place of safety until after Mass ;
a few rich merchants and their families from Toulouse, who
had come all the way over the mountains to assist at the fete.
"Is not that Pedro I see there among the muleteers, Mar-
jorie?" called Will over his shoulder.
'' Yes " ; she answered with evident dissatisfaction, '' and
just see how he is dressed up ! He must be going to take
part in the battle. I wish he would stay away. Coming here
to tease Nicolette and make Etienne jealous!"
*^You must know, Mr. Carhart," said Mrs. Fleming, smil-
ing, " that we have been in Martres only two months, yet Mar-
jorie is the confidante of all the love affairs in the place."
"A charming role to play," said Philip, with a little irony.
" It is not a role ! " looking at him with swift reproach.
'* They really interest me."
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"But, Marjorie/* asked Will, "why, then, is Pedro gotten
up in that stupendous manner?"
"Oh, did you not hear about it yesterday, when Nicolette
came to ask me for some of our bluets for Etienne's decora-
tion ? There is to be a sham battle, after Mass, at the grove
near St. Vidian's fountain, between the Moors and Christians.
And I think that Pedro " — scanning him — " is to be a Moor-
ish cavalier, mounted on his mule/'
"The Moorish horsemen, then," said Will with interest,
'* used to be dressed in that magnificent combination of colors!
Ob, who would not be a Saracen!"
Then other costumes as dazzling as Pedro's began to pass
them in the crowd ; a frightful clangor of trumpets was heard
and another detachment of Moors came up on steeds of every
size and hue, pounding the earth, in front of the church.
" Had we not better go in at once, to secure a place ? "
asked Philip.
"It does not matter," said Will. "They will make room
for us. They are always polite to strangers."
So it seemed, for the crowd, with a salute for Madame and
a smile for la jolie petite demoiselle^ and ce debonnair Monsieur
Veel, made way for them most courteously.
Through the old porch, with the date of building carved
over it, they stepped into the church, generally dim and dark,
but now with a flood of sunlight from the open arched windows
streaming down on the worshippers thronging within. They
took places near the baptismal font — in itself a study, for it
was an ancient sarcophagus, set up on four pillars and all
covered with carvings and holy emblems.
Mrs. Fleming gave herself up to devout prayer, and Marjorie
would have done the same, but now the troops outside, foreign
and domestic, having been duly marshaled, began to enter the
church two by two, with banners waving at their head. Chris-
tians and Saracens, with equal indifference to the laws of Mo-
hammed, took their stand amicably together, and made ready
to present arms at the elevation. Then the retable over the
altar, with the gilded shrine of St. Vidian supported by sculp-
tured Moors in chains, was taken down and placed before the
sanctuary with the bust of St. Vidian above it. And Marjorie
bit her lip to repress a smile, which might have shocked the
pious townspeople, at Philip's whispered comment that: "St.
Vidian might have been saintly, but he was not handsome."
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214 Narcissus [May,
The village painter had given the statue a pair of staring
black' eyes, his cheeks were quite a brick red, and his mous-
taches had a most ferocious curl to them. On his shoulders
was a gilded mantle, around his neck hung a collar of blue and
white crystal, and over all, from the top of his head, nodded
innumerable white plumes, which gave him a very martial air.
** He was a hero to fight with all those feathers dangling
in his eyes," muttered Philip, in further levity; but received
only a reproving glance in return from Marjorie, for High
Mass was now going on, with chanting from the town choir
and swinging of censers and an occasional clatter of lances,
as some of the troops moved too restlessly.
Chapter HI.
When it was concluded, the armies filed out and formed in
front of the church ; while the clergy took down the bust of
the saint, and the people hastened to join the procession which
was to follow. Our party went out with the last.
"What do we do now?" asked Philip.
"Oh, we go to the fountain to bathe St. Vidian's wounds,
and then comes the fight," answered Marjorie, joyously ex«
pectant. "Ah, Nicolette," to a neatly dressed girl, with shin-
ing black braids, who stood in the porch, "I have been look-
ing for you. Have you been praying for the success of all the
Christian knights, or for om of them only?"
" I hope you prayed for me^ Nicolette," said Will ; " I need
it more than Etienne does, who is a lucky fellow."
"I prayed for Mademoiselle so kind," said Nicolette shyly,
in her. pretty French, learned at the convent in Toulouse";
and I would have prayed for you, Monsieur Veel," quite inno-
cently, " or — or for Vautre Monsieur, if I had thought Made-
moiselle wished it."
A slight sense of embarrassment was relieved by the miller's
coming up to find his daughter, and presently they were all
making their way along the winding path which led to St.
Vidian's grove.
Here on a plateau was a pretty fountain, in the midst of
gentle undulations of verdure, shaded by trees. At this spot
the procession halted, and with many solemn ceremonies the
bust of the good saint was bathed in memory of his wounds,
received hereabouts, in defense of Martres.
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Now came the most exciting part of the day's programme;
the part joyfully anticipated for week sand months before-
hand by the younger portion of the community — the fight!
The crowd repaired to a neighboring field; where seats were
arranged in a temporary amphitheatre.
The two armies were drawn up opposite each other in
battle array; and for the first time their splendor could be
properly appreciated. They numbered one hundred and twenty*
iive men on each side, of whom fifty were horsemen. The
Moorish cavaliers wore red and white turbans, with silver
trimmings, green vests, orange coats with red facings, girdles
of scarlet silk, and blue pantaloons of amazing amplitude.
Their infantry was a little less pretentious, wearing simple
white hussar uniform; but, by way of compensation, they had
^^^g^$ gorgeous orange- colored vests, splendid of effect. The'
Christian knights were in black pasteboard helmets with silver
crosses in front, blue tunics, and tin cuirasses, dazzling in the
sun's rays. The foot soldiers wore gray, with blue caps and
silver crosses on their breasts. Both armies had tall lances,
and each had its standard borne before it, the Moors' green
and orange, with silver crescent ; the Christians' blue, with the
figure of St. Vidian upon it.
''This grows deeply interesting!" Marjorie cried laugh-
ingly.
''Very," assented PhiUp, in much lower tone, and with such
a look into her eyes as vaguely disturbed, for an instant, her
enjoyment.
Now a rattling pas de charge was sounded on the drums
of the commune ; the word was given ; the dogs of war were
let loose. " Oh, the wild charge they made ! " spouted Will.
And, indeed, they did. The standards floated now here, now
there. Red, green, blue, and yellow uniforms flew madly about ;
rusty lances clanged against tin shields; there resounded shouts
of: ** A bas les Maures / ** and ** Mart aux Chritieiis ! '' Such
prancing and curvetting, such plunging and rearing, had surely
never been seen here before since the days of Roland and his
brother Paladins.
"Will they not hurt each other?" asked Mrs. Fleming
anxiously.
"More likely themselves," replied Philip. "Look at the
beasts they are on I I suppose they are the farm horses for
miles around."
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2i6 Narcissus [May,
''They do give and take some hard knocks right gallant-
ly," commented Will. "Just look at that fat little Moor over
there who has lost his cap. How bald he is and how plucky 1
That is the fourth time he has jumped up and renewed the
fight against those two tall Christians." But a turn in the tide
of battle came now to save this little hero, for the Moors swept
down in force on that part of the field and demolished his two
adversaries.
" There goes Pedro on his mule," said Philip, " with a bunch
of cornflowers in his turban. He is quite a savage fighter.
See him charge down on that group of Christian infantry."
" / am interested in this one," said Marjorie, indicating a
peculiarly fierce-looking Saracen just in front of them. "Does
he not look ferocious! And how he fights! I wonder where
he got all those daggers in his belt. That's the miller's old
gray he is on ; and it will tumble down if he spurs it in that
fashion. Do you know he keeps staring at me in the queer-
est way whenever he stops fighting for a moment. Watch
now when he comes by — here he is now. Why, Will " — in a
very crescendo of amazement — "he SLCtually winkid at me!"
"I'll have his life," declared Will in deepest tones.
" No, don't " ; with the calmness of despairing conviction,
as Abderahman charged past again, rolling his eyes wildly and
snorting defiance like the bloodthirsty heathen that he was.
"How could I have been so stupid as not to recognize those
eyes before ! Don't you see who it is ? "
" / do," said Philip calmly. " I have seen for some time.
It is Jack."
" It certainly is Jack," agreed Will, gazing with amusement
after his brother's figure capering about on the old and bony
gray. " It must have been that gorgeous costume that tempted
him." The while Mrs. Fleming, not attending, gazed out on
the field, unaware that she had a deep and immediate interest
in the success of the Moorish forces.
" Marjorie," she asked presently, " do you not think those
two men are fighting real/y in that corner of the field?"
" I have been told that they do take this annual opportu-
nity, sometimes, to pay off old scores. Which two do you
mean, Auntie? "
The two in question were pointed out with difHculty among
the surging mass of combatants; but when they were found,
their struggle looked assuredly earnest enough. They were
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both horsemen, from their dress, but dismounted. After sev-
eral minutes close wrestling — their lances being useless in a
near encounter and therefore thrown aside — they both came
heavily to the ground. Now they rolled over and over, first
one on top and then the other. At last one of them, seeming
to make a desperate effort, sprang to his feet and, after sur-
veying his prostrate opponent for a moment, disappeared in
the crowd.
" I cannot make out the man on the ground," said Will,
shading his eyes to look, "it is too far off, and his helmet
has slipped over his face. But the victor must be Pedro, from
the flowers in his turban. I should not care much for a hand-
to-hand combat with that fellow. I fancy, somehow, he would
not fight fairly."
The one left on the ground did not seem able to rise, they
noticed, until some of his companions came and raised him up
and helped him off the field. ^ Now the battle raged more furi-
ously than ever. Though the Christians fought well, the Moors
appeared to have the better of it. Three several times, when
nearly routed, they had gathered their forces together and
charged down once more, carrying confusion into the ranks
of the enemy.
" Well done, Saracens ! " cried Will enthusiastically ; " Hurrah
for the Crescent ! There is but one God and Mohammed is his
prophet ! "
" My dear ! " remonstrated his much scandalized mother.
" But, fortunately, none of the pious crowd around him under-
stood ; and besides, they were quite taken up themselves ejacu-
lating: "Dogs of Moors! Beasts! Villains! Ha, the blessed
St. Vidian must conquer at last ! See, their accursed green flag
is lowered a little — there goes a lance through it ! Vive les
Chretiens ! '* and so on. Except, indeed, the relatives of the
Moorish contingent, who, though wishing well to St. Vidian
and the Christian cause, naturally wanted Blaise and Jean and
Robert to enjoy their little fight too. Jack was to be seen in
the van always; and twice, when the lad bearing the Moorish
colors thought it about time to lower them, he had, by dint of
a few smart raps, persuaded him to keep up his courage. Still,
this thing could not last forever. Midday, the dinner hour of
most of the townspeople, was now long past. It grew late in
the afternoon and they were hungry. The Saracens must yield,
and word to that effect was conveyed from Monsieur le Maire
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a 1 8 NARCISSUS [May
to their leader. So, the next charge of the Christian host was
weakly resisted; it was successful, and St. Vidian remained once
more victorious.
Abderahman, otherwise Jack, came spurring up on the old
gray, which lowered its head, as Marjorie had predicted, and
landed him sprawling at her feet; where, being unhurt, he lay
and announced that it was the Moorish manner of doing pros«
trate homage before *' the smiles of beauty."
''Don't be absurd, but stand up and let us see you," she
commanded.
'' Jack ! " exclaimed his mother, in overwhelming surprise,
^' why, is it possible I We left you sick at home ! "
"And you find me well, here," replied he, with unabashed
impudence. '' Jeanneton's herb tea worked a miracle."
"Well, if you must fight," deplored Mrs. Fleming— •* oh,
Jack, you might have been a Christian ! "
"Christians don't fight; or, rather, they should not. And,
then, regard me well I " — scowling darkly and slapping his tur-
ban on one side — "The Christian rig is nothing to this, as I
ascertained when I first gave my attention to the subject."
"Who did those ferocious corked eye- brows and moustaches
for you ? " demanded Marjorie laughing.
" Pierre, and kept wishing all the time that he were a man
like Monsieur Jacques to look so fine and go fighting on St.
Vidian's day. In return for which I helped him to run away
from Jeanneton and see the battle. And now, are you not all
tired and hungry ? For I am, whacking away at those fellows ;
and when I restore this gray clothes-horse to the miller, I'll try
to get a char-a-bancs and come back for you."
''That boy has an idea or two," remarked his brother com*^
placently, as Jack trotted off. " It's late and dinner is waiting ;
and that hill's no joke for mother to climb."
The rival armies had long dispersed ; various greetings had
been exchanged with the country people as they moved away
in groups. Nicolette with her father had stopped for a few
words with Marjorie, who found her looking depressed and
wondered why Etienne was not with her. The last afterglow
had faded from the sky and the gray of twilight beg^an to re-
place it. Jack returned in triumph with his char-a-bancs^ for
which he told them pompously he had paid little in sordid
dross but much with a glance of his beaux yeux. They all
mounted into it and started, Will driving and Jack busy trying
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i9o6.] Narcissus 219
to convince his mother that he had passed his day in a highly
meritorious manner.
" Yoii are very weary, are you not ? " asked Philip gently
of Marjorie, after a silence. '' There is nothing more fatiguing
than a jour d$ fet$^ even for mere spectators."
'' Only a little tired/' she answered in the same tone. '' I
think I was busy, when you spoke, watching the stars as they
came out and trying to count them."
" Is there not some poetic child's superstition about the
first star of the evening ? "
'' Oh, yes ; that one will always get what one wishes when
it first appears. I am afraid," with her soft laugh, " that I am
often child enough to wish by it."
"Did you wish to- night?"
*'Yes," in almost a whisper.
" If you only "—earnestly — " would wish what I want you
to-^" then stopped, thidking to himself quite calmly that he
might be going too fast. The more so, as Marjorie spoke no
other words all the way home; and but for Jack's unfailing flow
of nonsense, her silence must have been remarked. Which did
not prevent his helping her out very carefully at the gate, and
holding her hands in his a little longer than was necessary.
Through Jeanneton's care, the lights in the chateau were twink-
ling brightly, and she was at the gate to receive and hurry
them to table, with many expressions of wonder "that those
foolish Moors should have been so obstinate — keeping honest
people from their dinner." And Jack performed wondrous feats
with his knife and fork, making his brother declare that if his
onslaught on the Christian army had been half so fierce, not a
man had been left to tell the tale.
" What makes you so silent, Marjorie ? " asked her aunt.
"Just listening," she answered, with a smile. But she re-
mained in unusually quiet mood all evening ; and after she had
gone to her roodi and .remembered what her wish by the star
had really been, she half hoped that Philip's face would appear
again to-night in her dreams. Instead of which it was Will's
that came and went and came and went, but always wore the
same entreating look.
(to be continued.)
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OPEN-MINDEDNESS.
BV JOSEPH McSORLEV, C.S.P.
III.
To open their eyes that they may be converted* — The Acts of the Apostles,
Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide,
In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side. — Lowell,
[AVING admitted that the profession of the Catho-
lic faith does not necessarily imply the posses-
sion of an open mind, we may now, with good
grace, go on to consider certain faults of people
outside the Church. Less by way of passing
judgment than by way of suggestion, we shall note both the
nature of these offences and the lines along which improve-
ment can be made. Nor need our suggestions appear untime-
ly, even though the present generation has, to a very remark-
able extent, emancipated itself from prejudices and dishones-
ties prevalent at an earlier date. Granted that there has sel-
dom existed a nation readier than our own to listen to the
presentation of Catholic claims, and that there is no place
upon earth where the Church has a fairer chance to make
converts than in this land of ours; yet even here, there is
still room for improvement. Non- Catholics often display char-
acteristics which form a serious obstacle to the progress of the
faith; prejudice still keeps possession of many minds; multi-
tudes are sluggish in responding to the behests of conscience;
frequently there is manifested an ingrained reluctance to go
strictly by evidence in matters of controversy. Hence having
considered our own shortcomings, it seems proper that we
should devote a few words to the shortcomings of our neighbors.
Every one is aware that for some people there could scarce-
ly be conceived a harder duty than that of patiently studying
and openly accepting the teachings of the Catholic Church.
Menacing phantoms warn a man not to persist in his search
for the facts; human ties of every kind detain him in the
state of belief or unbelief to which he has been accustomed.
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I906.] OPEN^MINDEDNESS 221
The example of the crowd, the wish to preserve reputation,
the love of personal comfort, the affection of friends, the tra-
ditions of race and family, the revolt of judgment and tem-
per — these, and perhaps still more intimate motives, play upon
the will with a force calculated to overcome any ordinary
powers of resistance. And finally there is the inevitable temp-
tation to defer action and to re-examine arguments endlessly.
If, despite these obstacles, a man becomes a convert from
genuine conviction; if he withstands the influence of disposi-
tion, training, and habit; if he overcomes that last foe of duty,
self-distrust; then we may regard him as a noble example of
open-mindedness.
When a man has made public profession of certain princi-
ples and convictions, it is no small thing for him to own that
he has been wrong. "Lord! what wilt thou have me to do?*'
was the instant answer of Saul to the constraining voice at the
gate of Damascus; but to few does a divine voice speak, and
to few are supernatural evidences of certainty granted. The
many go through a long and painful contest with indecision.
They question, the call to repudiate what they are under sol-
emn pledges to uphold. Through some such test must every
convert pass, so long as Providence places truth at the end of
the path of renunciation and makes faith the reward of suffer-
ing bravely borne. The fact that in our own day so great a
multitude has been ready to venture upon that path and to
face that suffering, would seem to prove that, with all its lack
of idealism, this generation is neither irredeemably selfish nor
hopelessly corrupt.
We must not forget, then, that open-mindedness usually in-
volves heroic virtue on the part of a convert to the Catholic
faith. No one can deny that the saying is a hard one. Nev-
ertheless, we would here insist upon the principle that in this,
as in all other affairs, a man is bound to make whatever sac-
rifices fidelity to the truth may entail. First and foremost in
the moral life comes the obligation to fulfil the divine com-
mandments written by the God of nature on the human heart ;
and among these is the law of truth. We have a higher des-
tiny than to satisfy our selfish inclinations. We are created to
obey the will of another, rather than our own. No matter
how clever may be the excuses self-love invents, they will
never be strong enough to withstand the fierce testing to which
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222 OPEN'MINDEDNESS [May^
the God of truth will one day submit them. The main issue
is plain: Are we seeking the whole truth, or not? Those who
do not seek it with the ardor of {overs can hardly hope to
look upon the face of their Creator or to be admitted to the
pure-hearted company of the saints. Once we find a clew to
the teaching of God, we must follow it There can be no
drawing back under penalty of moral disaster. We may be
tempted to devote the time and the energy intrusted us to
other ends; we may desire to wrap our talent in a napkin
and store it quietly away; we may wish to linger and tem-
porize t^ntil some pleasant change comes over the spirit of our
convictions. But all the while we dally and procrastinate we
are weighing self against God; and too long a delay must in-
evitably mean that the heavenly vision will pass away, never
again to be vouchsafed us.
Here, then, the non-Catholic may find matter for self-
examination : Is my attitude toward the claims of the Church
determined by right or by wrong motives ? In other words, do
not considerations other than the legitinuite pros and cans play
too important a part in the forming of my judgment; and do
not other aims besides the quest of holiness absorb too much
of my attention?
Take, for instance, the matter of intellectual and social cul-
ture. Now learning and refinement are all very well in their
way ; they are good gifts of God ; they are valuable adorn-
ments of truth. But, however high they rank, they are not
criteria of revelation. The mental acumen, the scholarship, the
fine polish of a religious teacher cannot be regarded as 6nal
tests of his doctrine. It may very well happen — in fact, inre
shall be quite within the bounds of truth ip saying it often
happens — that the possessor of a brilliant and highly cultivated
mind is offered the opportunity of receiving instruction at the
hands of an apostolic messenger who, in every human quality,,
is immeasurably his inferior. Under these circumstances, there
will naturally be a strong temptation to shrink away from the
duty of listening to such a teacher; and the temptation is not
always earnestly resisted. To yield, however, is plainly to pre*
fer the human before the divine, to set pleasure above duty,
and to sin against the truth.
The temptations of controversy dig another pitfall for the
feet of the unwary. Not to take advantage of an adversary.
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I906.] OPEN-MINDEDNESS 22$
despite our chance to score against him, is to exercise a very
extraordinary degree of self-restraint. Yet the interests of
truth require that we resist loyally every such temptation.
How rarely it is resisted can be seen by all who watch the
course of current controversy ; and how difficult resistance is^
they know who have subdued the vicious inclination to argue
for the sake of victory. Though few may follow this ideal of
perfect honesty, it is morally imperative. Sins against it will
be punished with inability to see the truth which one may, to-
some extent, really desire, and for which one may have searched
long, though not faithfully nor unselfishly enough. For truth
is the reward of following the light, not the prize of stratagem
and deceit. To seek for truth is far different from submitting
to an ordeal, the outcome of which depends on the' dexterity
and strength of one's champion. The conclusion of an honest
discussion should be a summary of all the facts presented or
suggested by both sides, not a judgment on the comparative
ability of two debaters. The result should have nothing to do
with the chance circumstances that this or that pair of dis-
putants has been matched. Despite our sympathies we should
be ready to develop the imperfect arguments brought forth by
either party; and to put into telling shape the considerations
which have lost force through imperfect presentation.
Another opportunity for the practice of open- minded ness
arises from the common expectation that truth and virtue will
always be found together ; for this anticipation begets a preju-
dice against doctrines supported by men who are not dis-
tinguished for holiness of life. But though, as a general rule,
we can arrive at the true by tracing out the good, this clew
cannot always be relied upon. For the sake of gathering the
grains of wheat we may have to delve into most unlovely
heaps of chaff. The representatives of truth at times are far
from being models of virtue. By way of illustration, we may
refer to the difficulty caused by the scandals of Christianity,
as set forth in the pages of a recent writer : ** Even if we re-
move the mountainous accumulation of fables, false judgments,
blind prejudice, and malignant calumny, there still remains,
alas ! a second mountain of scandalous fact, beginning with
what we read in the pages of the New Testament, such as the
many failings of the Corinthian converts or the tepid Church
of Laodicea ; and discernible century after] century. So, for
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224 OPEN'MINDEDNESS [May,
example, the worldly Christians whose portraiture is to be
found in The Shepherd of Hermas^ during the time of peace
before the persecution of Decius, and then in natural sequence
a multitude of defections ; again, a hundred years later, the
influx of laxity after the age of persecutions had ended ; those
unworthy members of the Church who silmost made the great
St. Ambrose lose heart, and who clung so fast to pagan
licentiousness, that in Africa the rude Vandal conquerors were
astonished at the spectacle of vice; then later the scandalous
errors of the two great Christian states, the Frankish and the
Byzantine; the popes of the tenth century mere puppets of the
factious Roman nobles; the sad moral condition even among
the pious Anglo-Saxons of the laicised monasteries before the
reforms of St. Dunstan; the concubinage of the clergy before
the reforms of Gregory VII. (Hildebrand) ; the heaven-defying
court of William Rufus; the unchristian hatreds and homi*
cides of later mediaeval Italy; the life and surroundings of
Alexander VI., and the licentiousness of the Italian Renais-
sance; the forlorn state of the archdiocese of Milan when St.
Charles Borromeo took possession; the antagonism of rival
orders in the face of a common foe, with such disastrous re-
sults, for example, in England and Japan; the heartrending
testimony of missionaries that the scandalous lives of Christians
are the greatest of all obstacles to the spread of the faith.
Even in lesser things there appears a continuity of abuse, and
we might think the Fathers were living in the days of Chaucer,
when St. Jerome and St. Gregory of Nyssa bear witness to
the abuses mingled with the use of pilgrimages, and when St.
Chrysostom rebukes the superstitious use of amulets in An-
tioch and Constantinople, though himself enthusiastic in the
rightful veneration of the relics of the martyrs and the wood
of the Holy Cross. . . . Indeed the narrative may be
woven by so skillful a hand that, without straying from the
nominal truth, the history of the Church may be made to ap-
pear a chronicle of scandals.'' *
The author proceeds to show that, despite all these unpleas-
ant features, the Church is still worthy ot the attribute of holy.
''These very scandals, if once again we look below the surface
of things to the depths, if we seek the testimony not of partial
^TkiKeyUtht World's Progress. By Charles Stanton Devas. New York: I^ng-
nians. Green, & Co. Pp. z6i. tt sgq.
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J9o6.] OPEN-MINDEDNESS 225
but of total facts, if we remember our theological principles-*
these very scandals in the Church are a witness to her divinity.
. . . The Church must indeed pay the penalty for her title
of Catholic. . . . Whatever else she may be, she must re-
main the Church not only of the ill-mannered and coarse-
minded, but of the criminal and the outcast. . . . She must
journey through the centuries, bearing as the heaviest of her
trials and the greatest hindrance to her success the daily shame
of her unworthy members, and be well content if she can save
at their death those who have been a disgrace to her during
their life."
Reflection will, indeed, make it clear that religious truth,
like other divine gifts, may be at times in the hands of wicked
husbandmen and faithless stewards ; but reflection is not likely
to suggest itself to any but the most earnest seekers. The
devoted follower of truth alone, will take the trouble to study
out this aspect of the situation, and to find the view-point which
enables him to overlook all objections. In the face of moral
weakness or vice on the part of the messengers of the faith,
the convert's quest must truly be a hard one; and only on
condition of being gifted with a high degree of courage and a
most ardent love of truth can he hope to bring it to a success-
ful termination. It is in part because most questioners fall
short of ideal single-heartedness, that missionaries must spend
so much time in answering objections based upon scandals, dis-
tressing enough, to be sure, but really not affecting the issue
under consideration.
When a high-souled convert, or prospective convert, meets
with some such painful obstacle to progress, all the strength of
inclination and emotion is engaged against the cause of Catholi-
cism. It may be the shock of discovering wickedness in high
places; it may be the treachery of one who has accidentally
been associated with the presentation of the truths of faith in a
particular locality ; it may be a display of moral depravity by
some one who ranks among ''distinguished recent converts."
Now, no one can be blind to the fact that these circumstances
extenuate the error in the cases where the individual judgment
is prejudiced finally against the truth. Yet it is possible for
minds to rise superior to such considerations, as was done in a
notable recent instance, when the vile behavior of a prominent
convert toward the wife whom he had first influenced toward
VOL. LXXXIII.^IS
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226 OPEN'MINDEDNESS [Mayv
the Church did not in the least affect her appreciation of the
faith which the Church taught her. Unfortunately, though^
such loyalty is something of an exception. The rule is that
people are determined by the accidents of these cases. They
heed the promptings of emotion. They have not been trained
to support principles for their own sake and without further
question ; and so they lack the strength necessary for the fcl*
lowing of the naked truth.
Another tendency which does much to keep men alienated
from Catholicism is the disposition to cling blindly to old tradi-
tions, whether authenticated or not. The cultivation of open-
mindedness is the sure road to freedom from this bondage. \vt
proportion as the love of truth is developed in the soul, ancient
calumnies will lose their power; for love of truth leads men to-
struggle against mental inertia, and forbids them to repose su-
pinely in the shade of accepted opinions. This development is
much needed by the average man, who is loth to disturb his
own social or domestic peace by the introduction of new views
and policies; and who thinks what was true enough for the
father true enough for the son. Dante compares the multitude
to blind persons with their hands upon the shoulders of others
equally blind, falling into the ditch of false opinion and unable
to escape. " They are like sheep, rather than men — scno da
chiamate pecore^ e non uominL**^ A means to counterbalance
this tendency, and to correct the errors which result from it,
will be found in that open-mindedness which has given us so
much of the best we possess in the way of knowledge and
power.
The man who contemplates Catholicism from without is
also severely tested when he discovers a more or less prevalent
tendency to superstition among Catholics. Newman in his
Ninth Lecture on Difficulties Felt by Anglicans sets forth thia
difficulty in almost startling strength. It is based on the fact
"that Catholics, whether in the North or the South, in the Middle
Ages or in modern times, exhibit the combined and contrary
faults of profaneness and superstition. There is a bold, shallow,
hard, indelicate way among them of speaking of even points of
faith, which is, to use studiously mild language, utterly out of
* /I Contnto, I. XI. Che se una pecora si gitasse da una ripa di millepassi» tuttel'altre
le andrebbono dietro ; e se una pecora per alcuna cagione al passare d'una strada salta, tutte
le altre saltano, eziando nulla veggendo da saltare.
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I906.] OPEN-MINDEDNESS 227
taste, and indescribably offensive to any person of ordinary
refinement. They are rude where they should be reverent,
jocose where they should be grave, and loquacious where they
should be silent. The most sacred feelings, the most august
doctrines, are glibly enunciated in the shape of some short and
smart theological formula ; purgatory, hell, and the evil spirit,
are a sort of household words upon their tongue ; the most
solemn duties, such as confession, or saying office, whether as
spoken of or as performed, have a business- like air and a
mechanical action about them, quite inconsistent with their real
nature. Religion is made both free and easy, and yet formal.
Superstitions and false miracles are at once preached, assented
to, and laughed at, till really one does not know what is
believed and what is not, nor whether anything is believed at
all. The saints are lauded yet affronted. Take mediaeval
England or France, or modern Belgium or Italy, it is all the
same; you have your boy-bishop of Salisbury, your lord of
misrule at Rheims, and at Sens your feast of asses. Whether
in the South now, or in the North formerly, you have the ex-
cesses of your carnival. Legends, such as that of St. Dunstan's
fight with the author of evil at Glastonbury, are popular in
Germany, in Spain, in Scotland, and in Italy ; while in Naples
or in Seville your populations rise in periodical fury against
the celestial patrons whom they ordinarily worship. . . •
Such is the charge brought against the Catholic Church. . . .
Hence, the strange stories of highwaymen and brigands devout
to the Madonna. And, their wishes leading to belief, they be-
gin to circulate stories of her much- desired compassion towards
itnpsnitent offenders; and these stories, fostered by the circum-
stances of the day, and confused with others similar, but not
impossible, for a time, in repute, are in repute. Thus, the
Blessed Virgin has been reported to deliver the reprobate from
hell, and to transfer them to purgatory ; and absolutely to se-
cure from perdition all who are devout to her, repentance not
being contemplated as the means. Or men have thought, by
means of some sacred relic, to be secured from death in their
perilous and guilty expeditions. So, in the Middle Ages, great
men could not go out to hunt without hearing Mass, but were
content that the priest should mutilate it, and worse, bring it
within limits. Similar phenomena occur in the history of
chivalry ; the tournaments were held in defiance of the excom-
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228 OpeN'MindednesS [May,
munications of the Church, yet were conducted with a show of
devotion; ordeals, again, were even religious rites, yet in like
manner undergone in spite of the Church's prohibition. We
know the dissolute character of the knights of chivalry and of
the troubadours ; yet that dissoluteness, which would lead Prot-
estant poets and travelers to scoff at religion, led them not to
deny revealed truth, but to combine it with their own lawless
and wild profession. The knight swore before the Almighty
God, his Blessed Mother, and the ladies; the troubadour of-
fered tapers, and paid for Masses, for the success of his early
attachment ; and she in turn painted her votary under the figure
of some saint. . . • The Crusaders had faith sufficient to
bind them to a perilous pilgrimage and warfare ; they kept the
Friday's abstinence, and planted the tents of their mistresses
within the shadow of the pavilion of the glorious St. Louis.
There are other pilgrimages besides military ones, and other
religious journeys besides the march on Jerusalem, but the
character of all of them is pretty much the same, as St. Jerome
and St. Gregory Nyssen bear witness in the first age of the
Church. It is a mixed multitude, some most holy, perhaps even
saints; others penitent sinners; but others, again, a mixture of
pilgrim and beggar, or pilgrim and robber, or half gipsy, or
three-quarters boon companion, or at least, with nothing saint-
ly, and little religious about them. . . . You enter into one
of the churches close upon the scene of festivity, and you turn
your eyes to a confessional. The penitents are crowding for
admission, and they seem to have no shame, or solemnity, or
reserve about the errand on which they are come ; till at length,
on a penitent's turning from the grate, one tall woman, bolder
than a score of men, darts forward from a distance into the
place he has vacated, to the disappointment of the many who
have waited longer than she. . . . You turn away half
satisfied, and what do you see ? There is a feeble old woman,
who first genuflects before the Blessed Sacrament, and then
steals her neighbor's handkerchief, or prayer book, who is in-
tent on his devotions. . . . You come out again and mix
in the idle and dissipated throng, and you fall in with a man
in a palmer's dress, selling false relics, and a credulous circle
of customers buying them as greedily as though they were the
supposed French laces and India silks of a peddler's basket.
One simple soul has bought of him a cure of rheumatism or
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I906.] OPEN'MINDEDNESS 229
ague, which might form a case of conscience. It is said to be
a relic of St Cuthbert, but only has virtue at sunrise, and when
applied with three crosses to the head, arms, and feet. You
pass on, and encounter a rude son of Church, more like a show-
man than a religious, recounting to the gaping multitude some
tale of a vision of the invisible world seen by Brother Augus-
tine of the Friars Minor, or by a holy Jesuit preacher who
died in the odor of sanctity, and sending round his bag to col-
lect pence for the souls in purgatory; and of some appearance
of our Lady (the like of which has really been before and
since), but no authority except popular report, and in no shape
but that which popular caprice has given it."
Probably no one will ask for a stronger indictment than
the foregoing. Yet the Cardinal's luminous discussion of the
objection enables the man of average intelligence to see that
this ugly array of facts does not discredit the claim of the
Church to be divine in origin and in doctrine. On the con-
trary, it rather constitutes " the very phenomenon which must
necessarily result from a revelation of divine truth falling upon
the human mind in its present existing state of ignorance and
moral feebleness." And, indeed, no religion which takes vital
hold of the popular feelings and imagination can fail to be
tinged with something of superstition in the minds of the vul-
gar. The adequacy of this answer will be perceived by many
who would not be broad and patient and just enough to seek
of their own accord for a similar explanation of the disagree-
able superstitions which they daily encounter. When a New-
man appears and smooths away the difficulty, they are honest
enough to accept the explanation. But should he not appear,
they will let themselves be deprived of a great gift which
might be theirs, were they to correct their prejudices and to
control their emotions more heroically.
We may conclude these reflections on the virtue of open-
mindedness, with the affirmation that it is a quality indispen-
sable to the ideal man or woman; that it is far too rare; that
it can be, and should be, developed by patient striving. Much
courage will, of course, be required, for it takes a high form
of bravery to walk in faith and hope amid such spectres as
the enemy of truth is constantly summoning up to frighten
men away from the paths of simplicity and honesty. Threats
will crowd in upon us, misunderstandings multiply, the plead-
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230 OpeN'MINDEDNESS [May,
ing of well-intentioned but faint-hearted friends become hard
to resist. We shall seem to have no light but conscience, and
no aid but God. Yet all will go well if, in the spirit of Para-
celsus, we keep our eourse:
I see my way as birds their trackless way.
I shall arrive I What time, what circuit first,
I ask not.
Meanwhile it affords us no small consolation to know that
all trials endured in the service of truth will help to clear that
inner sight wherewith we must in eternity view the beauty of
the face of God. This same fact intimates to us the reason
why men must progress toward the truth by struggling with
temptation, by resisting the solicitations of selfishness, and by
toiling wearily along the path of duty.
Our love of truth must be stronger than common affec-
tions ; for it leads not toward comfort but sacrifice, and prom-
ises us scorn in the place of honor. The man who treads
truth's narrow path is being prepared for the highest and the
holiest life ; and when he reaches the object of his seeking he
will already have achieved some measure of nobility by his
constant struggle against the lower tendencies of nature. It
does not seem strange, then, that so often the only road which
leads to faith is the road of the Holy Cross ; nor that accept-
ance of the moral ideals of Christ and the Church must ac-
company any serious effort to acquire the fullness of Christian
revelation. As inside the fold the self-denying saint is led
into light and knowledge denied to lesser men, so the seeker
outside is assisted or abandoned accordingly as he does or
does not show himself ready, for the sake of truth, to renounce
what is attractive and to embrace what is repugnant. With-
out calculation he must follow the lead of the Spirit.
Where lies the land to which the ship would go ?
Far, far ahead is all her seamen know.
Devotion to the Holy Spirit of Truth should be cultivated
by all who hope to become open of mind. This devotion will
necessarily include a readiness to make sacrifices for the sake
of truth ; and opportunities for such sacrifices none of us shall
lack. To hold no private interest superior to the duty of
seeking the truth ; to ask for no dispensation and to invent
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f 906. ] OPEN'MINDEDNESS 2 3 1
no excuse to relieve us from the obligation of using all the
light we may receive — this is an essential part of devotion to
the Holjr Spirit. No matter what we have thought or professed
or done in the past, the summons of truth must find us ever
ready to acknowledge, to alter, to amend. If certainty of any-
thing is granted to us here upon earth, of this we are sure —
that God never approves and man never profits by a lie.
To see light, that is to react against the stimulus of rays
which fall upon the retina, is less a virtue than a mechanical,
or physiological, necessity. But to hold the eyes open when
they are tired, to strain our sight when the light is dim, to
peer about and search eagerly for the truth which we are
aware will make us uncomfortable — this is to serve the cause
of virtue and to obey the law of God. It is the requirement
of the ideal. We may often fall short of it in practice, but at
least let us recognize it interiorly as sacred and divine; let us
be filled with shame when we fail to embrace it, in effort and
intention.
The foregoing considerations upon the virtue of open- mind-
edness may, at least, serve to suggest a topic for the study
of every reasonable man, every Catholic, every possible con-
vert. Let each reasonable man see to it, that he possesses
sufficient humility to use criticisms passed upon his character
or his work. Let each Catholic make sure that in discussions
he is ever upon the side of truth, irrespective of his sympathy
and his inclination. Let each possible convert stamp upon
his soul the ambition to be honest and pure- hearted and brave.
Let him frown down calumny, fearlessly correct misunderstand-
ing, and cultivate the good-will which disdains suspicion. And
if the time should ever come when reason suggests that the
old prejudices are baseless, and observation intimates that
Catholicism is divine in its quality, and conscience whispers
that investigation, or maybe submission, is a duty, then let
there be, upon his part, no shrinking, no evasion, no post-
ponement
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TO MARY IMMACULATE.
'* Emanatio est daritatis Omnipotentis Dei sincera.'* — Sap vii. ij,
BY SR. M. WILFRID. O.S.D.
Before all time, beyond all bounds of space,
Unlimited by darkness, from the Face
Of God shone the dread light no man may see
And live. But Love, athirst, by his decree
Called from the void a sea of beauty, bright
With tenderest hues of ever- varying light ;
Wave upon wave of joyous life, to show
A fair dim image of himself. And, lo !
Dark mists from hell overshadowing the land
Fell on men's hearts, lest they should understand ;
And they beholding, saw not; hearing, heard
Not the whispers of the Eternal Word.
Would Love then cease to love? That ne'er could be!
Thwarted, unknown, rejected, yet would he,
The mighty, changless God, once more unseal
The fountains of his Heart— yea, he would steal
Into men's hearts by bond oi brotherhood,
Lie on a human mother's breast, nor should
One sorrow fall on man by him unbome.
See how with roseate kiss, the freshening dawn
Turns into glory the far snow-capped height
(Upraised to catch heaven's first and latest light).
E'en so the Spirit with his quickening breath
Breathed upon Mary, and no shades of death
Fell on her radiant soul. Whiter than snow
Was she, his new creation, which should know
No Empire of corruption. She his bride.
Whom he, her God, hath dowered with powers as wide
As the unending kingdom of her Son.
Hail, Queen most pure ! look down from thy high place
On us, thine exiled children. Win us grace
(Though wrought by cleansing fires of keenest pain),
That we, in those white garments without stain,
Which to each victor soul our God will give.
With thee, to see him face to face, and live.
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SOME LETTERS OF FATHER HECKER.
EDITED BY ABBOT GASQUET, O.S.B.
HHE name of Father Heckcr needs no introduc-
tion, especially to readers of The Catholic
World. A word, however, may usefully be
said of *' the dear friend '' to whom these letters
were addressed. This was Mr. Richard Simpson,
a convert to the Catholic faith in 1845, ^^^ one of the most
brilliant of those who, about that time, left the Established
Church of England, and gave up much for conscience sake.
Simpson had the gift of languages, knowing not only French
and German, but Italian, Spanish, and Flemish. He was be-
sides an easy and taking writer, whilst combined with this, he
became an ardent researcher into the manuscript records, both
in England and on the Continent of Europe. For several years
he was connected with TAf Ramblet magazine, and for a time
edited it in conjunction with Sir John — afterwards Lord — Acton.
The tone of several of the articles gave offence in clerical cir-
cles, and The Rambler^ to which there are many references in
these letters of Father Hecker, was discontinued in 1862, and
a quarterly review, called the Home and Foreign^ took its place.
This lasted only two years, as Cardinal Wiseman, and other
English bishops, condemned its supposed liberal tendencies.
The letters, now for the first time printed, show us how
Father Hecker prized the friendship formed in the early "Fif-
ties" with Richard Simpson, and what real affection he enter-
tained for him, although they could have met only very sel-
dom. There can be little doubt that they became first ac-
quainted through Father CofBn and the Redemptorist Fathers
at Clapham, near London, where Mr. Simpson lived. To these
"Fathers" he sends his affectionate greetings through Simp-
son in more than one of the letters. The light which these
old papers throw on the lovable side of Mr Simpson's char-
acter is very pleasant. One who knew him intimately says of
him, that he was the warmest and most affectionate of friends,
and the most interesting and best informed of companions.
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234 SOME LETTERS OF FATHER HECKER [May,
He was a true and sound Catholic at heart, but his love of
putting his ideas in new and startling ways, and of enjoying
the consternation which this caused in the minds of othersi
often caused him to be misjudged and his orthodoxy even sus-
pected, and in many instances not without cause. Mr. Simp-
son died in 1876, at a villa near Rome, a few months only
after Father Hecker's last letter to him.
The letters are also, in some ways, a revelation of Father
Hecker's own self, and for this reason they will, I am sure, be
welcome. Letters such as these tell the reader more about the
real inmost personality, than pages of description ; and after
reading them again and again, as I have done in the years
they have been in my possession, I feel as if I had known
Father Hecker in the flesh.
J. M. J. A.
6 August, 1852.
My dear Friend:
Your note of April last by C. Keefes I received, and thank
you much for it. C. has got a situation in a Spanish family,
but is not much pleased with it ; but no place this side of
heaven can please us entirely.
It will be a pretty good task to do well what you propose.
There will be some delicate points to handle. Gorres' Christ^
liche Mystik would throw some light on the physiological point.
Eschew all new-fangled notions on metaphysics and keep to
the Angelic Doctor. Then — go ahead, as we Yankees say.
Our missions here in the United States have been blessed
with great success. We gave fourteen last year. At several
we had as many as 4,cxx) to 5,000 Communions, and ten Fa-
thers were engaged on some of them.
The country missions were extremely gratifying. We found
villages entirely Catholic. At one of these we planted an im-
mense big cross near the church ; the congregation was com-
posed of backwoodsmen. At the conclusion of the ceremony
we gave three cheers for the Holy Cross, and they made the
welkin ring with their stout voices, and it gained their hearts
for us. On the first Sunday of next month we begin our fall
missions at Wheeling, Va. From there we go West to Cincin-
nati. We have missions ahead for a couple of years or more.
Two weeks ago a couple of live Yankees made their vows —
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i9o6.] Some Letters of Father Hecker 235
one was a real one from way down East, formerly Lieutenant
of the American Army.
Remember me to all friends, especially to Mrs. Simpson,
and believe me yours, with unabated esteem and affection, in
the Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary.
Do me the favor to write again.
I. Th. Hecker, C.SS.R.
Ave Maria! 27 January, 1853.
My dear Friend:
The good Irishman that brought me your note had a long
and tough voyage across the great pond ; it was fifty days
after its date I received it. It referred so much to Dr. Brown-
son that I took the liberty to send it to him. That you will
call, I suppose, Yankee freedom. There was nothing private
in it, and I hope O. A. B. will profit by your remarks.
The last I heard from the girl you inquire after was several
months ago — she was then in the family of a Spanish gentle-
man.
You were mistaken about the authorship of the Articles on
Gury's Theology. They are by a priest near Boston — Rhod-
dow. You intended that as a compliment — I thought they
were wishy-washy stuff. Good intention covers all — I don't
imagine that I could do as well. All my time is employed in
missionary labors, and I would that I had health and strength
enough to perform them. We must make Yankeedom the
Rome of the modern world — at least we work hard to make it
Catholic.
It gives me pleasure to know that you, too, are not a
mere looker-on, but are engaged in lecturing and writing.
There are enough without us who have received their souls in
vain. He who has either head or heart ought not to be idle
in the present crisis. By and by we shall need stout arms;
for parties and things are coming rapidly to their last se-
quences. We shall have a great fight yet — preparatory, per-
haps, to the great battle that will use up all the devil's fight-
ing capital. Everywhere the Holy Church is shackled, and
new chains are forged daily to bind the limbs of Christ's
spouse — and when are the stout hearts to say hold ? And
when are the stout arms to cry out, Unshacke those limbs or
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236 SOME LETTERS OF FATHER HECKER [May,
bite the dust ye cursed Turks? We must die once, and it is
a pity to let the last breath go out of one's body without a
purpose.
Remember me to all friends, particularly to your most
estimable lady and sister; I hope each one of you pray for
me — that I may become a saint — the first Yankee saint in the
calendar. That would be good — really so — don't laugh, I may
cheat you — play you a Yankee trick.
I thank you for your note, and shall always be glad to hear
von mein Herr Simpson.
Yours aflFectionatcly, in the Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary,
I. Th. Hecker, C.SS.R.
J. M. J. A.
June, 1856.
My dear Friend :
Is it possible! the date of your last note, I find, is three
whole years ago. What have you been doing that you could
not take the time to write an old and continued friend a line
or two ? Come, sir, that's no way to serve a friend. Mend
your pen and yourself, or you shall have a thumping penance
from me.
That, of course, is your article in The Rambler of May on
"Original Sin."* What right have you to steal my thunder?
Have you been looking over my shoulder, or I yours? After
the publication of Questions of the Soul a new idea struck me ;
it was to show that the dogmas of the Catholic faith answer to
the demands of reason; like the sacraments, satisfy the wants
of the heart. The latter proposition being the subject of QueS'-
tions of the Soul.
How shall I give you an idea of it ?t To begin: I start with
the moment when first religious convictions break in upon the
soul — First Chapter. Then show the certitude of these convic-
tions — Second Chapter. Following this, the loyalty due to these
convictions — Third Chapter. Show then that there is a class of
*The article in question was by Mr. Simpson, and was entitled " On Original Sin, as
affecting the destiny of unregenerate man." Its soundness, especially as regards certain ex-
pressions about St. Augustine's teaching, was called in question and led to many future mis-
understandings between the writer and the ecclesiastical authorities.
t The following account of his projected book shows that Father Hecker was already
meditating the volume which he published the following year under the title Aspirations of
Nature, 1857.
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1906.] Some Letters of Father Hecker 237
persons who have these convictions, but no religion to satisfy
them — Fourth Chapter. Hereupon I give three chapters titled
"The Confessions of an Earnest Seeker/' one on Man, making
him assert the value of human reason; the dignity of human
nature; and that man is substantially good; and that in the
very strongest language ; ending with *' What contradicts reason
contradicts God/' Another chapter on Religion. ''He goes
forth in earnestness and hope to seek, to find, and to accept
the true religion, resolved to repudiate all creeds, or systems
of belief, which demand the sacrifice of reason, liberty, or inde-
pendence. Let the religion perish from the face of the earth
that would invade the sacred elements which constitute man's
reason,'' etc. The third chapter is on the Church. ''No sub-
mission to a human authority; to a Church that does not ac-
cord with the dictates of reason, or does not ennoble man's
life and extend his activity," etc. A Church that has no mar-
tyrs is less than the family or State ; a Church without martyrs
is dead, etc. Having trotted out my hero, the next thing is to
satisfy his demands.
I pass him through ancient philosophies; no satisfaction.
He tries modern German and French philosophy ; no answer.
Reason is not able to answer her own questions. Is it because
she is weak ? No ; the cry of reason for revelation is the
title of her grandeur. The great God alone is equal to satisfy
reason's capacity.
St. Thomas' arguments in proof of the necessity of revelation
I am not prepared to accept. They do not lead to rationalism,
that, you know, is condemned ; but it does not require much
genius on the part of the rationalists to make a handle of them.
We are philosophers, they say; have leisure; intellect refined
by study, etc.; well, we get at the same truths by the path of
philosophy as the common people, etc., by the way of revela-
tion. Are you, then, a traditionalist? No, sir. A rationalist?
By no means. Listen !
There is no operation of the mind without an object; and
the character of every operation of the mind partakes of the
nature of the object.
Just, then, as the material world is necessary to the exer-
cise and development of our physical nature; just as other hu-
man beings are necessary to the exercise of our human facul-
ties; so is contact with God necessary to the exercise of our
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238 Some Letters of Father Hecker [May,
god-like or religious nature. Hence, also, the nature of God's
revelation is the nature of man's destiny.
This, you perceive, makes the necessity of revelation not
merely a moral necessity, but a philosophical necessity. Thus
reason is saved.
Now let us take history or tradition. They tell us that in
the beginning God and man walked and conversed together as
friend with friend. Which confirms the above. Thus tradition
is saved. But no act of religion is possible without contact
with God ; ergo the necessity of a living present, permanent,
unerring, God-revealing organ in the midst of mankind — the
Church ; hence, also, the necessity of her Catholicity, etc., etc.
But I have lost sight of my book. After showing the
necessity of revelation, I start my hero to find it. He comes
now in contact with Protestantism. He interrogates it on the
value of reason, human nature. Church, etc. What does he
find ? Repudiation of reason, free will, etc. Development of
the Protestant doctrine concerning the Fall. In one word, the
entire repudiation and destruction of man. This will give me
a fair field to open my batteries. He curses Protestantism.
Whence, now ? Catholicity. What does she say ? You know,
my friend, how delightful is truth — how beautiful, how consol-
ing, how dear to the human heart, how ravishing to the mind
created to gaze upon it and never to be satiated !
Here now I will endeavor to show, one by pne, the anaU
ogy of the dogmas of faith and the dictates of reason. This will
lead me to show the beauty of the worship of the Church.
But I must not forget to tell you that I shall not forget
to adapt it to the American people and their institutions also.
Our institutions are based on the maxim "trust the people.*^
This is Catholic. Protestantism says the contrary ; human na-
ture is worthless. I shall not fail to draw my conclusions.
Indeed, I trust to make it as fresh as the first, if not more
so, and to make it reach a larger class of persons. With our
Lady's help, I hope to have it finished this fall.
What say you to it ? Could it be published in England at
the same time as here ? The Questions of the Soul is now in
its third edition (i,ooo each). Did you get the copy I sent
you ? Why didn't Capes • give it a notice in The Rambler ? he
received a copy.
• The proprietor and editor of the magazine.
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I906.] SOME LETTERS OF FATHER HECKER 239
Perhaps, when you see any of the Catholic book publish-
ers, you will give them an idea of this book, and let me know
the result.
I want your opinion about the plan and also its contents,
especially on the proof of the necessity of revelation. Do me
the favor to write, not early, but soon.
I would be delighted to shake your hand, hear you laugh,
and see you jump about as you used to do.
If you want me to pray for you, write to me and tell me
what you are about. If you know of any book that would be
of use to me, send it on to me and I will see you repaid, or
give me its title.
Affectionately yours, in the Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary,
I. Th. Hecker, C.S5.R.
My address is 153 Third Street, New York City.
SS. Cordis Jesu.
Rome, December 28, iSs;.*
My dear Friend:
Your note of December 5 was full of interest, and to me
most consoling — God bless you for it. It is useless to enter
into details about my personal difficulties — the reputation which
as Protestant and Catholic I have borne for rectitude and sin-
cerity is gone, but only, I think, for the present. I see the
hand of God in this, and, as things are, I cannot imagine how
the great purpose for which my journey was undertaken could
otherwise be accomplished. This blow will, I trust, turn to my
own spiritual profit, and be a providential means of attaining
the object I have in view.
Regarding what has taken place in this light, though a
source of great personal affliction, yet I have not the slightest
feeling of bitterness or animosity against those who have be-
lieved it their duty to bestow upon me a punishment that is
reserved but for incorrigible subjects, f Since my expulsion t
have visited the General t many times, informed him of my steps,
and entertained nothing but friendly feelings towards him and
all concerned. God knows that I came to Rome for no per-
• Fr. Hecker reached Rome in August, 1857.
fThe fact of Father Hecker's having come to Rome without the permission of his
superiors was construed by them into a deliberate violation of the vows of poverty and
obedience taken as a Redemptorist, and, on August 29, he was expelled from his order.
t The General of the Redemptorists.
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240 Some Letters of Father Hecker [May,
sonal object; and so that I succeed in getting something put
on foot for the conversion of my fellow-countrymen, I don't
care for having been kicked unceremoniously out of Villa
Casserta, * nor if I am kicked out of Rome^or to death. A
man that gains the great prize in a lottery is willing to give
an interest to obtain it.
It is for this reason that although I am quite certain of
setting aside the decree of my expulsion as illegal and unjust,
yet this would be to me no consolation; for my work is not
a personal one; the question is, either measures should be
taken for the conversion of the American people, or we should
abandon our missionary vocation. No one here, who is ac-
quainted with my purpose, but assures me with certitude of
success. Trust in God with patience, and he will take care of
the success.
One thing you may be assured, no one will succeed in
proving a fault in me; for this, knowledge and wilfulness were
requisite on my part; and both, thank God and our Lady,
are wanting. God in his Providence has permitted my su-
periors to act from false impressions, and this to secure his
own ends. My innocence gives me peace, and though my heart
bleeds with affliction, yet those who see me, exclaim : '* Why,
Father Hecker, you are the happiest man in Rome ! ''
It will, I am sure, console you to know that I have very
warm friends here, and most powerful ones too. *' Your Emi-
nence," I said to Cardinal Barnabof the other evening, ''I
have lost one father in Rome; but gained two, yourself and
Mons. Bedini.'' % I know from independent sources no persons
could defend my cause more warmly than they do. Things
will come to a favorable issue, and what are my afflictions
compared with the sufferings of martyrs whose blood planted
the faith in the soil of Ancient Rome.
It is not only the United States which calls for an Apos-
tolic zeal, and the inauguration of its duties, but my humble
impression is that all Europe and Italy call for the renewal of
the same. There is a growing demand for an Apostolate in
Catholic Christendom of the nineteenth century, like that
started by St. Francis and St. Dominic in the twelfth. On
* The Villa Casserta was the headquarters of the order in Rome,
t The Cardinal Prefect of the Propaganda.
t Archbishop Bedini, at that time secretary of the Congregation of Propaganda, who knew
something of America and its needs, having visited it some years before this time.
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i9o6.] Some Letters of Father Becker 241
this ground I have not yet absolved Father Faber's abandon-
ment of his first enterprise — the *' Wilfridians/'*
You can see by these views how heartily I would sym-
pathize with you in the "Association" you mention. I wish
to know more about it, and as soon as I can tell when my re-
turn may be, you shall be informed of my route and the dates;
and I shall call on the Fathers at Brussels. As yet I have not
made the acquaintance of Palmer, f but shall do so this week.
Your remarks in regard to Dr. Brownson are too pointed —
they sting; of course they were not meant to be circulated,
but for me. Their truth is evident, and since I wrote to you,
other information confirms your remarks. I felt all you say,
but did not express it. Had I done so, he would have had
no chance, no such easy chance, to return to better sentiments.
He has done so, and I am told greatly regrets what he has
done. For my part, I am determined to secure every honest
man as my friend — Dr. B is all that; if there be any
mortification to be taken, I willingly accept it, so that God's
glory is advanced and souls gained to Christ.
January 18.
Do not blame me for delaying to send you the above.
My intention was to rewrite it and add to it; but my affairs
have kept me so basy, and now and then a smart headache
has prevented me in fulfilling my intention.
My difficulties will all be cleared up in due season; but it
may prove to be a long one — not an unprofitable one I hope,
to all parties concerned.
I see by the advertisements of the contents of the January
Rambler there is an article that touches on American ecclesi
astical affairs — have you sent me by mail that number? Do
me the favor, if you have not. No one here that I can find
gets The Rambler, and by other than the mail, it would take
long months to reach this Eternal city. I see also that in the
Institute Monthly Literary Journal there is also an article on
the same subject ; do send this also. You would do me a great
• On his reception into the Church, in 1846, Father Faber was followed by several of his
parishioners and friends. These he formed into a community at Birmingham, under the title
of •• Brothers of the Will of God." They were, however, commonly known as " Wilfridians "
and were assisted by the then Earl of Shrewsbury. In 1848 Father Faber and his small com-
munity joined the Oratory of St. Philip Neri, at Meryvale, near Oscott.
t This was the Rev. William Palmer, well known in connection with his visits to the
Russian Church, in 1840 and 1841, who entered the Catholic Church in 1855, and until his
death, in 1879, continued to live in Rome.
VOL. LXXXIII.— 16
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242 SOME Letters of Father Hecker [May,
favor to send me whatever touches on 'my affairs here, that
comes in your way.
My stay in Rome will, I fear, reach much longer than my
wishes — but God's will be done. When I see my way through,
I will let you know of my return — I must see you before
crossing the Atlantic.
Write me early and let me know how you succeed in your
purposes.
Excuse this scrawl. The kindest remembrances to your
wife. And believe me, sincerely and affectionately, yours in
the service of Jesus and Mary, I. Th. Hecker.
Rome, March 13, 1858.
My dear Friend :
My affairs have been satisfactorily arranged, and right after
Easter I shall leave Rome for Paris, where I hope to reach
about the middle of April. Where shall I find you? From
Paris I think of making a hasty trip to Belgium ; and per-
haps return to the United States via Liverpool.
Do me the favor to drop me a line on the reception of
this note, as it will find me here yet in Rome. My address
at Paris will be Hottinguers & Co., Bankers.
The kindest regards to Redemptorist Fathers at Clapham.
Thanks for your clever and manly article in The Rambler,*
The best remembrance to Mrs. Simpson, and I look for-
ward with the greatest pleasure of seeing you both some time
next month.
Sincerely and fraternally yours, I. Th, Hecker.
Hotel du Vatican,
Paris, April 12, 1858.!
My dear Friend:
Praise heaven I am so far, for traveling and travail differ,
in my case, no more in sense than in sound. About the 20th
I hope to see you in London, as my intention is to leave
Southampton t about the 28th, by the Steamer Vanderbilt, for
the United States; to see some of my former friends, and no
• This was probably the first article.
fThis letter by mistake is dated 1857, but it clearly belongs to the following year.
t In a letter written by Father Hecker and quoted in Father Elliot's Lift •f Father Hetktr^
p. 278, he says: I "intend to take passage on the Vanderbilt^ which leaves Havre on the
aSth." This steamer, no doubt, called to embark passengers at Southampton.
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i9o6.] Some Letters of father Hecker 243
one more than yourself, would make me feel akin to being at
home. Sha'n't we have a " big talk " !
Remember me to Father Coffin* and the members of St.
Mary's Community.
Yours sincerely and affectionately, I. Th. Hecker.
New York, August 25, 1859.
My dear Friend:
My attention has been so much absorbed in our new under-
taking f that it seems that since I had the pleasure of seeing
you and your wife, and partaking of your hospitality, almost
as much time has elapsed as in old Rip van Winkle's cele-
brated nap — some forty years ! How do you do ? What are
you doing ? And what's ahead ? Do let me hear from you.
As for your old friend and his associates, they are " going
ahead" in nomine Domini. My views and convictions in re-
gard to the work that is needed for our people grow daily ^
clearer and stronger. Our past year's labors and experience,
so far from diminishing our hopes, have increased them, and
this is to us a source of encouragement. Conversions continue
to take place in the United States, and among the more in-
telligent class of our people. And there are indications which
give rise to hopes of a considerable movement in the direc-
tion of the Church among the class of persons for whose con-
version I have always cherished the highest hopes — namely
the Unitarians. I must send you a copy of an address deliv-^
ered by an Unitarian clergyman " on the suspense of Faith."
It is an attempt " to give utterance to the wants of our starved
imaginations and suppressed devotional instincts." The Aspi-
rations of Nature was written in anticipation of such a move-
ment, which movement I regard as destined to reach the bet-
ter cultivated and more intellectual portion of the American
people. There are quite a number of clergymen who sympa*
thize with these views of the address, and have taken meas-
ures, to some extent some time ago, to realize them.
Our house, which includes a temporary chapel that will seat
1,000 persons, is nearly completed, and will be all paid for,
• Afterwards the Bishop of Southwark, but at this time Superior of the Redemptorist Com-
munity at Clapham.
t Father Hecker returned to America in May, 1858. the authorities in Rome having dis-
pensed himself and four other priests from their vows as Redemptorists. They at once organt
i«ed themselves into a new community, their Rule of life being temporally approved by Arch-
bishop Hughes, of New York, in July, 1858.
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244 SOME Letters of Father Hecker [May,
thank God, when completed, $20,000. Next week I leave, with
two of my companions, for her Majesty's dominions, St. John,
N. B., for a mission for 15,000 Catholics. Last fall we held a
mission in Quebec, where we had 8,000 confessions and 50 con-
versions. You Englishmen ought to feel some gratitude to us
Yankees in laboring for the increase of the faith in your own
possessions.
Some time ago I received a rescript from Cardinal Barnabo,
with the permission of the Holy Father to increase our num-
bers. We have several good applications, and are only waiting
to open our house for their reception.
By the way, I heard from a clergyman, who mentioned our
undertaking to good Dr. Newman, that he said: '' Oh, yes; the
Americans do not know what obedience is.'' . . . As our
Holy Father is not unwilling to give us encouragement, let us
indulge the hope that our Divine Master will not refuse seme
little out of the way corner in heaven to his unworthy ser-
vants and *' rebels."
Your devoted iriend and servant in Christ,
I. T. Hecker.
My address is Station E., 8th Avenue P. O., New York
City.
New York, March 28, i860.
My dear Friend:
A letter from you is almost as satisfactory as a visit to old
England. I wish you could pay me the same compliment ; but
I know you cannot honestly, for I get across my paper in
wretched style, and then, after you have deciphered it, 'Mt
don't pay." But if my deficiencies only induce you to make
that visit to the United States which you have threatened to
make, and give me the occasion to hear that hearty, good
English laugh of yours once more, I shall not on their account
chant Miserere^ but Laudate Pueri,
Your last letter is dated September 10, and you request or
suggest my writing occasionally a letter for The Rambler ; you
may ** guess " how much leisure I have at my disposal, when
six months have elapsed before I could find a moment to an-
swer your friendly epistle. The direction of our youthful com-
munity and of the parish and of missions, and occasionally, when
the cook is sick, the obligation to take his place in the kitchen,
give me scarcely time to turn about and say ''Jack Robinson."
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I906.] SOME LETTERS OF FATHER HECKER 245
Your condemnation of the idea that Christianity is always
to be hated by the world is no less hearty than roy own. A
couple of Sundays ago I took occasion in a sermon to explain
what was the "world" that Christians were to renounce; not
the world which is called nature — the flowers, trees, stars, sun-
sets (by the way, I do see glorious ones from my window in
view of the Hudson River), etc., etc., these are the work of
God's own hands, etc. Not the world of knowledge — science,
music, painting, etc., etc., these show the greatness of the hu-
man soul. Not the world called society; society in a Divine
Institution ; family, friendship, etc., are Divine Institutions.
These the Catholic Church recognizes, appropriates; it is the
part of the heresy of Shakers, Quakers, etc., to denounce and
contemn them. The world Catholics should renounce is a fic-
titious world, formed by men, against the Divine Law.
There is an immense amount of Calvinism, unrecognized by
Catholics, which passes for piety and Catholic faith; not only
in our papers, but in works on devotion, asceticism, and in
our pulpits.
. . • There have been several efforts made to engage us
in alliances with old orders^on almost any terms — but I am
for keeping clear of these. I believe in a living and actual
Providence and would trust in his guidance, hoping he will
make us his instruments to build up what our times most need.
I sha'n't say that I know he will, for that's too strong — but I
have a notion that he will, and does.
Low Sunday we begin a mission in Kingston, Canada West
— we cannot keep out of her Majesty's dominions; we began this
fall in St. John, New Brunswick, and had 8,500 Communions.
Our engagements extend to 1861. Conversions keep up — I
have two on hand — good ones — and one under way, an Eng-
lish lady. One of these days the American people will, in
God's Providence, be prepared — then look out for a conflagra-
tion. Providence works powerfully in our favor.
By the way, do you get the Freeman's Journal ? The Edi-
tor sends it regularly to your address for exchange ; it is the
only wide-awake Catholic journal this side of the ocean.
Yours faithfully and cordially, I. T. Hecker.
Don't you publish me in The Rambler.
Write soon, and I will answer soon in future.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
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Current Events.
Nearly six months have passed
Russia. since the Tsar solemnly granted
liberty of the person, of conscience,
of speech, and of the press. And yet the annals of Russia are
largely made up of violations of the rights so recently con-
ferred. Large numbers of political prisoners, loaded with irons,
have been deported. Editors of newspapers are being prose-
cuted. Friends of personal arbitrary government (if any such
there be) are being put to shame by the amazing ineptitude of
its sole remaining representative among civilized states. Count
Witte gave assurances that the Manifesto of October 30 granted
freedom of the press. The prosecution of the newspapers,
however, still went on and the Count, on being questioned,
asserted that he had believed that the Manifesto had granted
freedom, but he did not mean that the press laws were abol-
ished. Liberty of the press is, of course, utterly incompatible
with the maintenance of Russian press laws. It is impossible for
both to co-exist; and yet the government has pledged itself
to both. It is not surprising that the Russian lives in a state
of perpetual amazement at the state of things. One of the
leading newspapers, the Novosti, has been permanently sup-
pressed, and its editor sentenced to one year's imprisonment
in a fortress. The same fate has befallen a still more eminent
champion of Russian freedom — the editor of the Russ, It
would, however, be a mistake to think that liberty to criti-
cize is entirely withheld. The new agrarian measures of the
government, for example, have been criticized even fiercely by
many newspapers. The great evil is the uncertainty into which
everything is thrown when supreme power is lodged in a single
individual, an uncertainty which has led to a feeling bordering
upon panic. Oppression has taken many intense and erratic
forms.
The leader of the Sevastopol mutiny was sentenced to death
by a Court-Martial, his appeal was rejected, and he was exe-
cuted ; this execution called forth many protests throughout
the country. To his grave continuous pilgrimages were made
and flowers were placed upon it. Whereupon Admiral Chukh-
nin ordered the body to be exhumed, taken out to sea, and
sunk. In the Baltic provinces 18 persons have been hanged, 621
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i9o6.] Current Events 247
shot, 320 killed in encounters. Awful tortures were inflicted
upon a girl arrested for the assassination of a Vice-Governor;
and at Warsaw two prisoners were treated in a way too hor-
rible to describe in these pages, in order to compel them to
confess. Many other outrages have taken place; but enough
has been said to show the evils which exist. It may be said
that these are exceptional cases; perhaps they are; but such
exceptions are not found elsewhere. Twelve natives in Natal
were accused of murder and proved by a legal trial, lasting six
days, to be guilty; the proposal to execute them almost led
to a Constitutional crisis. The fact that there is a large revo-
lutionary party in Russia demands, it is thought, energetic
measures, and that this party has made many mistakes cannot
be denied. It has, without doubt, been unwise in not accept-
ing the proposals of the government in a more practical spirit
and in not co-operating with the government in order to carry
them out. At the same time, it must not be forgotten that these
proposals would not have been made at all had it not been for
the driving power which the revolutionists furnished. The nu-
merous murders, robberies, and other outrages of which indivi-
dual revolutionists, as well as small bands, have been guilty in
many parts of the Empire, cannot, of course, be justified on any
ground, even that of expediency; in fact, by thus acting they
are proving themselves the worst enemies of the freedom of
which, nominally, they are the defenders.
The fact that elections for the Duma have actually taken
place, and that the efforts of the officials to secure the return
of their own nominees have been signally defeated, affords a
brighter prospect for the future. The powers of the Duma
were so strictly limited by the Tsar's Manifesto published in
March, and the Ukases which accompanied it, that, in the
opinion of many, it had been reduced to the rank of a de-
partment of the bureaucracy. The Tsar declared that, although
he had granted a Duma^ he would not part with an iota of
his autocracy, and he required of its members a recognition of
his supreme power. Most of the Russian papers declared that
in this way the Duma had been made merely a mockery of a
representative body. The high-handed interference of the gov-
ernment accentuated the feeling. The police were directed by
M. Durnovo to arrest and exile all persons whom they looked
upon as undesirable.
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248 Current Events [May,
With characteristic inconsistency, after the peasant elections
were over, in which especially this interference had taken
place, the Council of the Empire made regulations, which
looked very well on paper, to secure freedom. Notwithstand-
ing the regulations, the terrorism and repression increased.
The attitude of the government caused many abstentions; and
yet the elections went on, so great is the longing of the people
to have a voice in their own affairs. While among the minor
landlords and the workmen the action of the government tended
to make the election a monstrous farce, in the villages, on acp
count of the peculiar conditions of communal life, the results
will, it is thought, have been fairly representative, notwith-
standing the action of the authorities. In some places all the
efforts of the government, unscrupulous though they were,
have resulted in complete failure. In St. Petersburg the Con-
stitutional Democrats carried every seat, although the govern-
ment put forth every effort, using even threats of imprison-
ment, on behalf of the Moderates and the Reactionaries.
The character of the Duma will depend upon the peasants.
Their representatives will form the vast majority. Out of a
total of 384 provincial deputies, 51 must be peasants, and 236
must obtain the peasant's vote, while in the remaining 97 pro-
vincial seats their vote will be influential. The Constitutional
Democrats can only count on electing 28 members in the large
cities and towns. The government has made the peasants prom-
ises of agrarian reforms, the Constitutional Democrats propose
to them the expropriation of land. It will be in their power
to choose.
At the Conference at Algeciras Russia supported her ally,
France, in opposition to her neighbor, Germany, and has
thereby incurred the displeasure of the latter. This has led to
the refusal at Berlin of the loan of which Russia is in urgent
need. After great difficulty, and on very hard terms, a loan
has been granted largely by French capitalists. It seems prob-
able that the new grouping of the Powers, consequent upon the
Anglo-French entente^ the Russo-Japanese War, and the Alge-
ciras Conference, may include a rapprochement between Great
Britain and Russia. The negotiations which have been proceed-
ing for some time seem to be drawing to a favorable con-
clusion.
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i9o6.] Current Events 249
The energies of German officials
Germany. have been engrossed in carry-
ing on the negotiations with ref-
erence to Morocco. Prince Billovv, owing to exhaustion con-
sequent upon long- protracted work, fainted in the Reichstag
and has been obliged to take a holiday. Rumor has it that
the Kaiser is so little satisfied with the Prince's achievements,
that this holiday will be the prelude to a permanent retire-
ment. The Kaiser himself has not come prominently before
the public. One of the two speeches recorded was made to
the naval recruits on their swearing in at Wilhelmshaven. In
this he urged them to remember the great deeds of the Ger-
man nation, but at the same time not to forget the calamities
it had brought upon itself by its own faults. This year being
the centenary of the battle of Jena, he exhorted them never
to lose faith and trust in God, for lack of which the German
army, which fought at Jena, had suffered defeat.
This outspoken reverence, so often manifested by his Ma-
jesty for the Supreme Ruler of the world, is an element in his
character which calls forth the admiration of those who can-
not but feel uneasiness on account of various other utterances
of his which tend to disturb the peace of mankind. It is not
an agreeable thing for other nations, whose interests are neces-
sarily opposed to the extension of German power, to learn
that Germany, which they recognize as having become power-
ful and prosperous, is ruled by one who is apparently always
thinking of war. It may be some compensation for the reli-
giously minded among them to be told, on the testimony of
one who is intimately acquainted with the country, that this
prosperity is due to ''the care she takes in educating her
children in the principles of religion, very much of which is
through the splendid example set many ways in the direc-
tion of religion by the Kaiser." The absolute law, order, dis-
cipline, self-respect, obedience, honesty, and honor, which reign
throughout that wonderfully great and prosperous empire, the
same authority attributes to the military system. Religious
instruction is obligatory in Germany for boys and girls in
both primary and secondary schools. The fact that strength
and prosperity are associated with discipline and religion should
make those who have neither the one nor the other ponder
deeply on their ways.
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2 so Current Events [May,
The personal kindness of heart of the Kaiser was shown by
the part he took in sending to the Courri^res mine disaster
Westphalian miners specially skilled in rescue work, and in the
speech which he made when he presented to them medals as
an expression of his heartfelt thanks and admiration. "You
have shown," he said, "that beyond the frontiers there is
something which binds people together, of whatever race they
may be, and that is neighborly love. You have obeyed the
bidding of the teaching of our Savior. We are all extremely
pleased, and we thank you for your devotion and, above all,
for the contempt of death with which you descended into the
bowels of the earth on behalf of your foreign brethren."
Some years ago duelling was very frequent in the German
Army, and one of the many anomalies with which mankind is
perplexed was that the Kaiser, as head of the Evangelical
Church, was bound to condemn and to punish the very same
act which, as Head of the Army, he was found to encourage
and even in some cases to enforce. Some particularly scanda-
lous cases which occurred called attention to this evil, and in
1897 an Imperial Cabinet Order was issued requiring officers
to submit their disputes to a Court of Honor. The Prussian
Minister of War has recently declared in the Reichstag that,
since the publication of the order, all the efforts of the gov-
ernment has been directed to seeing that the Imperial order
was carried out, both in the spirit and in the letter, and with
such good results that, he said, it was now impossible to speak
of the existence of this evil in the army. Brutal treatment of
private soldiers by their officers was and still is frequent, but
in this case, too, there has been marked improvement. In
the year 1903, 665 persons were punished for maltreating sub-
ordinates ; in the year 1905 the number fell to 390.
The relations with Great Britain still afford ground for anx-
iety. The movement initiated in both countries to foster better
feelings is active. Prince Biilow, in his recent speech in the
Reichstag, denied that the action taken by Germany with refer-
ence to Morocco had had for its object any desire to come
into conflict with England; and the spokesman of the Catholic
party on the same occasion expressed his full appreciation of
the straightforward attitude of Great Britain, and declared that
Germany could not be anything else than friendly, because all
her desires were pacific. The German branch of the Anglo-
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1 9o6. ] Current e vents 2 5 1
German Friendship Committee has sent an address to their
English colleagues to promote the same object. This address
was signed by about a thousand influential and distinguished
persons, of whom 50 belonged to the nobility, over 200 were
members of the Reichstag and the other German parliaments^
over 200 eminent professors of science, about 50 ecclesiastical
dignitaries, and a great number of representatives of various
public bodies and mercantile and industrial firms. All these ef-
forts in this direction will, we hope, be successful. The decision
rests with the German Emperor. It is impossible for outsiders
to judge whether or no his mind is expressed by those among
his subjects who are in favor of peace. The influences in favor
of war are strong, both in persons and in reasons. The com-
mercial rivalry between Great Britain and Germany, which has
become so keen in every part of the world, as so often in the
past, so at present, predisposes to war. The chief reason, how-
ever, is to be found in the fact that the German Empire is im-
prisoned. It has a surplus population, overflowing with num-
bers and energy, without an adequate Colonial outlet. The at-
tempts to colonize have so far not been successful on account
of climatic conditions, every suitable place in the world having
been appropriated. In Europe itself the frontiers of Germany
are artificial, not natural, made by diplomatists when Germany
was less powerful, and because she was less powerful. Many
Germans feel that they are being deprived of their fair share
of the world and that it is their right and duty to And an
adequate fleld for expansion. This is a reason in the nature of
things which makes Germany an object of anxiety and appre-
hension to all her neighbors, and which renders it impossible
to have full confidence in the success of the efforts to promote
peace which are being made.
" Out of the mouth of babes and
France. sucklings hast thou perfected
praise." These words are recalled
to the mind by the fact that the Church in France has found
in the peasants its most enthusiastic defenders. A few of the
nobility led the way, it is true ; but had it not been for those
at the other extreme of the social scale, the movement would
not have attracted any attention. Few people outside of France
are aware how grave the crisis has been. France, in fact, has
been on the verge of civil war. The French people have proved
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252 Current Events [May,
themselves not to be so indifferent with reference to the Church
as they appeared. The movement began in Paris, but it was
in the provinces, especially in the Haute- Loire, in Flanders,
in Brittany, that it took the most energetic form. Many vil-
lages were fortified; their inhabitants armed themselves in
some places with guns, in other places with scythes, pitchforks,
and bricks; roads were barricaded; mounted scouts stationed
on the lookout for the inventory- takers. On their approach
the church- bells were rung. So strong was the resistance that
the new government has felt it prudent not to resort to force.
The majority of the inventories had, in fact, been taken before
the resistance began, but some nine thousand remained which
it was impossible to make without bloodshed. Whether the
peasants were justified in thus taking the law into their hands
may be doubted ; the fact remains, however, that these pro-
ceedings have effectually stirred up, when everything else failed
to do so, the Catholics in France. They have called attention to
the injustice wrought by the present holders of power, and as
they have taken place on the eve of the General Election, to
be held in May, an opportunity has been given to the electors
to pass their judgment upon those powers. What that judg-
ment will be it is too soon to tell A few weeks ago a sena-
torial election took place for the department of the Basses-
Pyrenees. A month or two before the affair of the inventories
an election had taken place in the same district, in which a
partisan of the present government was returned by 656 votes
against 313. The more recent election, after the inventories,
gave the opposition candidate a majority of 68. We hope
that this may be a forerunner of many similar results.
Whether a fair trial should be given to the Separation Law
has been much discussed by the Catholics of France. The
Holy Father has protested in the strongest terms against both
the character of the new law and the way in which it was
passed. No directions, however, were given as to the imme-
diate conduct of the French clergy, such directions being re-
served for an opportune moment. The great question is whether
the associations cultuelles^ to whose administration the^ Separa-
tion Law gave the goods of each parish and the regulation of
divine worship, should be formed or not. The Pope speaks in
strong condemnation of this feature of the Law, as an infringe-
ment of the divine constitution of the Church. But in delect
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i9o6.] Current Events 253
of their formation, it is extremely likely that divine worship
will cease throughout France; for, in the event of no associa-
tions being formed, the churches and all church property will
be in the hands of the State. The Bishops are about to meet
in a Council to discuss the situation. To them several dis-
tinguished laymen, including M. Bruneti^re, Baron Denys Co-
chin, Comte d*HaussonviIle, M. Anatole Leroy Beaulieu, the
Marquis de Vogii^, have addressed a letter in which they set
forth the evils which, in their opinion, would follow upon the
refusal to sanction the formation of the associations. Catholi-
cism, they think, will be reduced to the state of a private
religion, and the practice of its worship will be confined to
the rich; the churches transformed into granaries or dancing-
halls ; civil war even may be let loose. Somewhat severe criti-
cism has been passed upon the writers of this letter, as if they
were infringing upon the rights of the bishops, but surely
every pastor is accessible to the respectful representations of
the members of his flock.
France has been the scene of the greatest mining disaster
that has ever taken place. This sad event has called forth the
sympathy of the whole world, and practical help, by way of
subscriptions in aid of the survivors, has been sent from man^
parts, far- distant Australia even having sent contributions to the
fund. The disaster has also been the occasion of a strike, the
event having revealed the hardships to which grasping capital-
ists had subjected their employees, out of whose toil they were
making an enormous percentage of profit without taking any
pains to protect them from the dangers to which they were
exposed. The troops have had to be called out, and several
disturbances have taken place.
The entente with England has been strengthened by the sup-
port given by that country to France during the Conference
at Algeciras, and one of the few remaining points of difference
— that with reference to the New Hebrides — is in a fair way
to settlement, an agreement having been reached by the Com-
mission appointed some time ago.
After sitting for nearly three
Morocco. months, after long-protracted de-
lays during which the delegates
of a certain government were waiting for instructions, after at
least one occasion on which the Conference was on the point
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254 Current Events [May,
of breaking up without having accomplished anything, the dele*
gates of the thirteen powers who had assembled at Algeciras
were able to come to a unanimous decision. This decision has,
however, to be submitted to his Shereefian Majesty for his
acceptance. In the event of his refusal, a further question will
arise how the Powers are to deal with him. The contest over
Morocco was in reality one between France and Germany.
France claimed preponderant influence over Morocco, by
right of her long association with its affairs, on account of
the frontiers of Algeria bordering upon Morocco for many
hundreds of miles. A further reason was found in the fact
that the subject population of Algeria were Mohammedan \n
religion, and therefore liable to be affected by any adverse
influence exercised upon their co-religionists in Morocco.
Such an adverse influence would undoubtedly have been exer-
cised in the event of Germany's being allowed to secure a port
on the coast. Moreover, France had special financial claims,
too, as she had made a loan on the security of the customs.
On the other hand, Germany was unwilling in her own in-
terests, and as she claimed in those of Europe, that Morocco-
should become a French possession like Tunis. She wished to
internationalize the police arrangements, as well as the Bank
which is to be founded. This France resolutely opposed, and in
so doing was supported by Spain, because she also has special
interests in Morocco, due to the possession of several ports on
the coast, and to the proximity of the countries. The greater
powers, with the exception of Austria, gave their support to
France. The result of all was internationalization under a
very mild form. A score or so of officers are to instruct and
command the native police in eight Moorish ports. These
officers are to be partly French and partly Spanish. They
are to be subjected to the inspection, not to the command, of
an Inspector* General, who Is himself to come from the Nether-
lands or from Switzerland, and is to report to the Sultan. A
copy of this report is to be given to the Diplomatic Body at
Tangier; not that this body is to exercise control, but merely
for the sake of information. Over the Bank a predominant
influence is secured to France. Other decisions as to smug-
gling, custom dues, and other things, were more easily arrived
at. Some of the most glaring abuses of the Moorish govern-
ment did not come under the discussion of the delegates at
all — such as the state of the prisons and slavery. To these
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i9o6.] Current Events 255
abuses various of the delegates respectfully called the attenticn
of the Sultan — the American delegate being specially interested
in the Jews.
In forming an estimate of the results of the Conference,
and especially whether it is to France or to Germany that
the greater advantages have accrued^ it cannot, we think, be
doubted that Germany has been the more successful. While
it is true that, by the Conference itself, the most urgent of her
claims were rejected, yet the principle for which she contended
— internationalism— has been accepted, although in a mitigated
form. But the victory of Germany is made much more evi-
dent, if we consider the state of things immediately after the
Anglo-French Agreement. This agreement left to France a po
sition in Morocco analogous to that of England in Egypt; and
she had formed plans for the peaceful penetration of Morocco^
and was proceeding to carry them into effect, when the German
Emperor by his visit to Tangier intervened, and by his inter-
vention effectually prevented their accomplishment. To enter
into a Conference at all was a concession on the part of France, a
concession which, from her point of view, ought never to have
been made, and which in fact would never have been made
had it not been discovered that the forts on the German frontier
were not prepared to defend themselves. What the ultimate
result of the Conference will be no one can tell. One thing,.
however, seems clear. Germany found in Austria her solitary
supporter, the other powers more or less openly ranged them-
selves on the side of France. For doing so Italy has incurred
the Kaiser's displeasure in a marked degree.
To the surprise and relief of all
Austria-Hungary. Europe a satisfactory solution has
at length been found of the diffi-
culties which have so long been threatening the union between
Austria and Hungary. For the two or three weeks which fol-
lowed the dissolution of the Hungarian Parliament the pros-
pect grew darker and darker. Baron Fejervary's Cabinet,
looked upon by the Coalition as altogether illegal in itself, be-
gan to take arbitrary and aggressive action instead of holding
to a purely defensive attitude. It stopped the sale of news-
papers, suppressed meetings, broke up clubs, suspended pa-
triotic County Councils. At last it went to the length of dis-
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256 Current Events [May,
solving the Executive Committee of the Coalition. A still
graver question was calling for settlement and that within a
short time. The law requires that a new Hungarian Parlia-
ment must meet within three months of a dissolution, and the
nth of April was the last day for issuing the writs (or its elec-
tion. Not to issue the writs would be equivalent to the for-
mal suppression of the Constitution, and the restoration of ab-
solutism. A Constitution as old as Magna Charta would have
disappeared and a tigime of pure Tsarism have begun. Such
were the prospects in the last week of March. The first week
of April witnessed a complete change; the long-delayed set-
tlement was suddenly brought about. Baron Fejervary had an
interview with M. Kossuth, the leader of the Independence
Party, who had intimated his desire to lay before the govern-
ment the proposals of the Coalition. These proposals were that
a general election should be held within the constitutional
period, with a platform of universal suffrage; all military ques-
tions were allowed to be shelved; the new government to be
formed was to make a declaration concerning the military pre-
rogatives of the Crown, and to see that the Budget, the trea-
ties of commerce, the economic compact with Austria, and cer-
tain other matters, should be voted by the new Parliament;
then a universal suffrage Bill was to be carried through this
Parliament, and finally on this basis a new election was to be
held. There seems to be some vagueness with reference to the
words of command, the question which has been the cause of
all the trouble. However, both the Crown and the Coalition
were satisfied. Baron Fejevary has resigned, so delighted at
his release that he expressed his intention of going to bed to
sleep for three days, and an exceptionally strong Cabinet has
been formed, having for Premier Dr. Wekerle, and numbering
among its members Count Julius Andrassy, Count Albert Ap-
ponyi, M. Francis Kossuth, and the leader of the Clerical Party.
Count Aladar Zichy. "The future will show," says a well-
informed writer, "whether the Wekerle Cabinet implies a vic-
tory for 1867, that is to say, dualism, or for 1848, with its
ideal of personal union, or whether it inaugurates a totally new
era." The Emperor-King has good reason to congratulate
himself on the formation of a Cabinet which eo ipso is a recog-
nition of the standpoint for which he has so long contended.
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flew Books.
The current growth of Franciscan
FRANCISCANA. literature,* so wonderful, not alone
for its volume, but still more so
from the widely disparate origin of the various streams which
contribute to swell it, shows no signs of diminution. And when
we find ourselves threatened with depression as we listen to the
countless threnodies that pour forth concerning the depravity
of our age, with its materialism, philosophic and practical, its
antipathy to the supernatural, we might do well, in order to
sustain our confidence in God's world, to extract all the com-
fort that we can from the cheering spectacle of this Franciscan
revival, which exhibits men of all types of religious belief and
unbelief conspiring to do honor to the Catholic saint who, above
all others, is the realization of the Master's love for all men.
The French edition of the writings of St. Francis, issued by
Father Ubald, does not call for any notice further than to ob-
serve that it provides French readers with a good translation
of the saint's writings in a handy size, and at a cheap price,
so that Father Ubald 's labors have placed these gems of spirit-
uality within popular reach. The English translation of Father
Paschal is one of which Catholics may be proud. As a piece
of scholarly work it need not fear comparison with even the
most brilliant products of French, German, and English scholar-
ship, which we owe to non- Catholics. And, without wishing
to disparage the genuine admiration for St. Francis which char-
acterizes many of the latter, we cannot but say that in very
few, if in any of them, shall we find reflected so faithfully the
spirit of the Poverello, as in these pages of his loyal son and
follower. Father Paschal's work is a finished piece of histori-
cal criticism. He has gone to the sources, and brought to bear
on their elucidation an intimate knowledge of all the later lit-
erature of the subject. In his estimate of the value of St.
Francis' own writings, for forming an estimate of his character.
Father Paschal adopts a via media between M. Sabatier and
^ Let OpuscuUs d* Si, Fratifois d' Assist. Nouvelle Traduction Frangaise. Par P. Ubald
d'Alen^OD. Paris : Poussielque. TiU WtHimis of St, Frmncis #/ Assisi. Newly Translated
into English, with an Introduction and Notes. By Father Paschal Robinson, of the Order of
Friars Minor. Philadelphia: The Dolphin Press. St, Francis of Assisi, By Leo L. Dubois,
S.M. New York: Benziger Brothers.
VOL. LXXXIIL — 17
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258 NEW BOOKS [May^
Mgr. Falconi Pulignani. In his judgment " these writings afford
us little if any information as to the life of their author, a fact
which may, perhaps, account for their comparative neglect by
so many of the saint's biographers ; but it is no less true that
they bear the stamp of his personality, and reflect bis spirit
even more faithfully than the Legends written down on the
very morrow of his death by those who had known him best
of all." -
Certainly it is in his own writings, when such exist, rather
than in the imaginative amplifications of his history produced
by subsequent piety, that we should look for the real living
presentation of any saint. And this is especially true of a
saint so remarkable for ingenuous candor and childlike sim-
plicity as was the little man of Assisi. Nor need one be want-
ing in respect and gratitude towards the many biographers of
the saint, to entertain the conviction that the pages in which
he himself has poured forth the glowing stream of his love and
simple wisdom possess, in a higher degree than any of his lives,
the power to reach hearts. The language of this translation
carefully preserves, as far as possible, the aroma of the original;
while the short but rich introductory appreciations, with copious
references, furnished to each document, will prove interesting
even to that class of readers who usually skip, as too dry and
techi^ical, details of criticism dealing with sources, texts, ard
the verification of dates. With the instincts of the scholar, and
a true appreciation of the excellence of his saintly patron. Fa-
ther Paschal^ has shown himself severe in excluding from the
list of authentic writings many documents from less exalted
hands, that undiscriminating piety hitherto accepted and de-
fended as genuine.
Some time ago a reviewer in The Catholic World ob-
served that there was an opportunity for some Franciscan scholar
to do a service to truth by refuting the opinion expressed in
many non- Catholic works that the movement inaugurated by
St. Francis was essentially an uprising against the authority of
the Church ; that he was, in fact, as resolute an opponent of
ecclesiasticism as Martin Luther himself. This good work has
been done effectively by Dr. Dubois, whose acquaintance with
Franciscan literature seems to be as extensive as that of Father
*^aschal himself. Of the exact, scientific quality of his able
dy of Francis as a social reformer, nothing more need be
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i9o6.] New Books 259
said than that it was successfully presented as the author's
dissertation for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in the
Catholic University of America. It is as a student of social
science that Dr. Dubois approaches the life of St. Francis.
He gives us a very succinct account of social conditions in
Europe, and e3pecially in Italy at the end of the twelfth cen-
tury. He shows how, notwithstanding the lively faith of the
time, serious abuses and deplorable corruption widely prevailed,
against which several Catholic reformers and visionaries had
striven with but little success, previous to the appearance of
St. Francis. Sketching the character, principles, and mtlhod
of the reformer- saint, who aimed at reforming society by re-
forming the individual,. Dr. Dubois places in high relief the
fact that, unlike those reformers with whom his non- Catholic
admirers would associate him, Francis always drew a shaip
distinction between authority and the abuses of authority, be-
tween the sanctity of the office and the failings of the official.
He sought to correct, not to destroy, contemporary institutions
in the Church and sQciety at large. He endeavored to amelior-
ate the miseries of his fellow-men, because he loved God
above all things. Francis placed religion at the «base of all
reforming efforts. In a concluding chapter, remarkable for its
comprehensive grasp and judicious balance, the Doctor po nts
out the lessons and conclusions which the social reformer of
to-day may draw from the life of the Franciscan founder. The
chief one is that true reform must begin, now as ever, by the
reform of the individual; Christian principles alone provide a
common ground .on which the conflicting interests, social, poli-
tical, and economic, may meet and find a solution of their rival
aims.
The excellent little pamphlet* of
THE. PROBLEM OF EVIL, Father Egget, S.J., is both an an-
tidote to practical pessimistic ten-
dencies, and an answer to the anti dogmatic arguments drawn
from the miseries of life and the doctrines of eternal damna-
tion, and the exclusion of unbaptized infants from the kingdom
of heaven. The author takes a general Christian standpoint,
rather than one exclusively Catholic. He does not blink the
tremendous difficulties of the problem ; nor does he pretend
^ God and Human Suffering, By Joseph Egger, S.J. St. Louis : B. Herder.
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26o New books [May,
that reason can offer a complete solution. But he argues effec-
tively that it is eminently reasonable to believe that neither
the existence of human suffering here, nor everlasting punish-
ment hereafter, is inconsistent with the attributes of an infi-
nitely good and infinitely merciful God.
The problem of evil is discussed also by Father Hull in
his examination of theosophy.* Two years ago there appeared
from an English pen in the magazine East and West, which is
widely read in British India, two articles advocating a system
of theosophy which, its expounder claimed, might be believed
in, after a sort of transcendental fashion, by Christians, or
professors oi any other religion, without abandoning their re-
spective beliefs. To the Catholic Examinet, of Bombay, the
able editor. Father Hull, contributed a series of papers refut-
ing these claims of theosophy, with its central doctrines, the
oneness of God and man, re- incarnation, and Karma. Discuss-
ing the question of responsibility and punishment, he treats
the problem of evil. He is sober and temperate, neither shirk-
ing the awful difficulties of the question, nor pretending that
reason can offer a complete explanation. The papers were origi-
nally addressed chiefly to Parsees; and there is a highly inter-
esting letter from a member of that religion embodied in the
book. The local color which Father Hull frequently intro-
duces in his illustrations, together with the Oriental character
of the doctrine which he combats, gives a peculiar piquancy
to this restatement of arguments which all Catholic writers
employ, but which f6w expose with such simplicity and lucid-
ity as does this apologist.
Among the host of books now
THE DIFFICULTIES OF appearing in France on the sub-
FRENCH CATHOLICS. ject of the new relations between
By L. Chaine. Church and State, this volume t
by M. L^on Chaine, deserves a spe-
cial notice and recommendation. M. Chaine is a devoted Catho-
lic, and his purpose in writing this work is to help the Church
in France to meet the momentous changes that have recently
come to pass. But he is deeply convinced that no progress
* The0s§pky and ChristianUy. By the Rer. Ernest R. HuH, S.J. London : Catholic
Truth Society.
iLa Caikoliquis Framfais tt Uurs DifficulUs Acta tiles. Par L^n Chaine. Paris: A.
Storck et Cie.
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I906.] New BOOKS 26 c
will be made until Catholics recognize that they have made
many bad blunders, and often adopted disastrous tactics. He
takes up various phases of Catholic action and attitude, and
courageously points out where correction and improvement are
required. Of course, he has stern condemnation for the stub-
born disloyalty to the Republic which many Catholics have
displayed, and he pleads in eloquent words for the plain prin-
ciple that Catholicity is not tied to monarchy, but is at home
in every rigime. He severely censures the action of the Catho-
lics who were so opposed to granting justice to Dreyfus, that
public opinion considered Caiholique and antuDreyfusard syn-
onymous terms. But over and above these rather obvious mat-
ters which a book of this nature would naturally be expected
to discuss, M. Chaine goes on to examine many other features
which laymen do not customarily discuss, but which, he says,
call for earnest and thorough reformation. He joins his voice
to the great outcry now arising from multitudes of Catholics
against new and fantastic devotions. If religion is cloaked in
this sort of garb, he maintains, it can never make much im-
pression upon the modern world. In Catholic education, cleri-
cal as well as lay, he calls for greater openness of mind and
intellectual honesty. He would have abuses frankly set forth,
and the unpleasant pages of history not blotted out or closed
to the student's eye. In this spirit, and with these aims, M.
Chaine discusses a great many interesting matters, and through-
out he leaves with the reader the impression of an earnest man,
sincerely desirous of serving religion, and believing that she
can best be served by truth. The book will well repay perusal.
Coming from a layman, it is of great significance.
This volume* may be described
THREE AGES OF PROGRESS, as a popular epitome of ecclesias-
By J. E. Devos. tical history written from the apol-
ogetic standpoint. It gives the
history of Christianity, from the beginning to the present day,
not as a consecutive narration of events, but as a presentation
of the salient features which exhibit the beneficent influence
of the Church upon the world. Scarcely any important fea-
ture, event, institution, or crisis has been omitted. The gene-
* Tkt Thrte Ages of Process, By Julius E. Devos. Second Edition. Revised and En-
l*rg«l. Milwaukee: The M. H. Wiltzius Company.
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262 NEW BOOKS [May,
ral arrangement is good, the method of exposition lucid and
concise. It ought to recommend itself as a text- book for ele-
mentary schools ; and will afford profitable reading to all who
have no time, or no inclination, for detailed historical studies.
Many of the stock charges against the Church are refuted, or
repelled. We doubt, however, whether it would be of much
value for attracting or convincing outsiders. The author's loy-
alty frequently carries him to overstatement; and he ignores
many of the difficulties and counter- arguments that are sure
to rise in the mind of an opponent. The persecutions waged
by Protestants are eloquently denounced, but there is no suffi-
cient defense or explanation made for the persecutions carried
out by Catholics. In many places, especially when the re-
formers are discussed, there is heard the note of polemical un-
pleasantness. Frequently, too, the genesis of facts is not sufH-
ciently kept in view. For instance, after a chapter devoted to
unqualified denunciation of the French Revolution, the author
compares the respective conditions of Catholic and Protestant
countries. He then adduces as a fact redounding to the honor
of Catholicity that in Catholic countries the land is divided
into small holdings, while in Protestant ones a large part of
it is concentrated in the hands of a few persons — and he cite^
the wide disttibution of land in France, compared with the
conditions in England, as a proof of his thesis. But the pres-
ent division of landed property in France was effected by the
French Revolution, not by Catholicism. Again, when a non-
Catholic American will meet the statement that the Catholic
Church alone abolished slavery, he will probably close the
book.
The compiler of this collection*
ANCIENT DEVOTIONS FOR has drawn from many liturgies of
HOLY COMMUNION. the East and of the West, that
survive now only among some re-
ligious communities, and, in some instances, among communi-
ties separated from Rome. The editor, however, has selected
only such as are of an orthodox character. Many of them
are of great beauty, and some, especially those drawn from
the Liturgies of Sts. Basil and Chrysostom, and the Mozarabic,
blend simplicity, vigor, and profound piety in a measure sel-
• AncUnt Devotions for Holy Communion. From Eastern and Western Liturgical Sources.
Compiled by S. A. C. With an introduction by Abbot Gasquet, D.D. New York: Bcn-
ziger Brothers.
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I906.] NEIV BOOKS 263
dom found outside the writings of the early ages. To many
who find, occasionally, that the weaker sentimentality, so com-
mon in some modern manuals, cloys with use, this book will
serve as a spiritual tonic. Incidentally it manifests the con-
tinuity of doctrine within the unchanging Church.
The time and scene of this fine
ON THE FIELD OF GLORY, story,* full of action, and glowing
By Sienkiewicz. with the play of all the great hu-
man passions, is Poland, just as
Sobieski is about to assemble his forces for the relief of Vi*
«nna. It does not quite conduct us to the Field of Glory,
but ends with a thrilling description of the military review held
by the king before his departure for the war. The force with
which the author writes makes the reader witness with his
very eyes the whirlwind evolutions of that magnificent Polish
cavalry that afterwards ground into dust the regiments of the
Sultan before the walls of Vienna. The plot is the love story
of a young Polish nobleman, who wins his bride only after
she has escaped from the bondage of a churlish old guardian,
and the threatened coercion of a recreant noble. There is the
same abundance of swordplay, alternations of love and hate,
Polish patriotism, hard drinking Pans, half paladin and half
barbarians, as distinguish the Zagobla trio of novels.
. The subjects treated in this vol-
ESSAYS. ume,t with two exceptions, relate
By J. M. Stone. immediately, or indirectly, to the
English Reformation ; in the his-
tory of which Miss Stone is an indefatigable student. Margaret
Tudor, Queen of Scotland, and sister of Henry VIIL, and Anne
of Cleves, his fourth wife; Sir Henry Bedingfield, Lieutenant
of the Tower, who contributed, more than any other man, to
the accession of Mary, are topics which give Miss Stone the
opportunity of discoursing, in her graceful, luminous manner,
replete with information, on a wide range of persons and
events connected with the rise of Protestantism in England.
* Oh the Field of Glory. An historical novel of the time of King John Sobieski. By
Henry Sienkiewicz. Translated by Jeremiah Curtin. Boston : Little, Brown & Co.
\ Studies from Court and Cloister, Being Essays, Historical and Literary, dealing mainly
with subjects relating to the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. By J. M. Stone. St.
Louis: B. Herder.
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264 N^^ BOOKS [May,
An easy transition carries her to the pre- reformation condi*
tions of religion in Germany, and the subsequent re-conquest
of Austria and Switzerland to Catholicism, chiefly by the
Jesuits. Hence we have a very interesting paper on Jesuits
at the Austrian Court. Giordano Bruno's visit to England,
and his influence on Sir Walter Raleigh, afford Miss Stone oc-
casion for drawing attention to the fact that the reformed re-
ligion had reached its nductio ad absurdum when weak-kneed
Catholics sheltered themselves from its pains and penalties
under the fairly secure roof- tree of atheism. A number of
consecutive papers recount the dispersion of the literary trea-
sures of the monasteries, and their subsequent fortunes, till
they found a permanent home in the Royal Library and the
British Museum.
Readers who take their history as recreation, and are re-
pelled by the severe and solemn aspect of the Gairdeners,
Gasquets, and Janssens, will find instruction in Miss Stone's
pages.
It has not infrequently happened
THE SUBJECTION OF that while the chief writings of
WOMEN. some thinker, which during his life
By J. S, Mill. were considered the main founda-
tion of his fame, have soon be-
come obsolete, some production of his genius, to which at first
little importance was attached, has proved of permanent value,
and exercised a potent influence on political or social develop-
ment, or ethical progress. This has been the case with John
Stuart Mill. His pretentious attempt to construct a moral
philosophy, or system of ethics, on utilitarian lines, which, on
its appearance, was treated as a revolution in ethical thought,
has long since ceased to have any but an academic interest
On the other hand, his brief essay on the civil and political
disabilities of woman,* which was treated, at first, as a mere
magazine paper, has not alone profoundly changed the char-
acter of English legislation relative to the legal position of
women, but also proved a powerful weapon for the enforce-
toient, throughout the civilized world, of the claims of women
to civil and political equality with men. Before this essay
was published. Englishwomen were subject to their husbands
• The Subjection of Women, By John Stuart Mill. New edition, with notes by Stanton
''h.D. New York: Longmans. Green & Co.
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 265
in a manner that savored more of Gothic barbarism and pagan
jurisprudence than of Christian principles. The present im-.
provement in their condition is largely due to the pen of Mill ;
though, of course, he achieved his results only because he was
backed by a slowly growing public opinion. But he deserves
the credit of having focussed that opinion, and given it con-
centrated expression. His statement of the case for women
still retains its value, in so far as his pleas are founded on
broad generalizations of experience and fundamental principles
of human character. The present editor has prefaced to the
essay a lucid analysis that will be of service to the reader,
who,, without it, might have some difficulty in following the
course of thought which frequently, almost imperceptibly, glides
from one point of view to another.
The Longmans publishing com-
THE TRADITION OF SCRIP- pany is to issue a series of hand-
TURE. books for Catholic students and
By Dr. Barry. priests, which begins most auspi-
ciously with a volume on the Scrip-
tures • by Dr. Barry. Concerning Dr. Barry's power of conden-
sation, his keen insight, courageous convictions, and brilliant
style, there is no need to speak. For these qualities he is emi-
nent. In this volume his gifts in these directions appear at their
best. Every intelligent reader who picks up the book will be
carried on with unflagging interest to the end. What is of
more import in a modern book on Scripture is to know the
temper and learning of the author, and how far he falls in
with prevailing critical methods and conclusions. With regard
to this, Dr. Barry holds a position which is eminently to his
credit. He holds fast to the Catholic spirit, and, at the same
time, is of open mind towards the just claims and legitimate
findings of criticism. He accepts, with commendable caution,
the four-fold document theory of the Hexateuch; he allows
Isaias, xl.-lxvi., to be, substantially, of the Exilic period ; he
hesitates to specify the number of psalms which go back to
David; Ecclesiastes is post-exilic; Esther is no earlier than
300-290 B. c. ; while "Esther is clearly Ishtar — the name of
a Babylonian goddess — and Mordecai is Marduka" — the name
of another member of the Babylonian pantheon; Daniel dates,
• Tht TradUien 0/ Scripture: Us Origin, Authority and Interpretation. By William Bany,
D.D. New York: Longmans, Green & Co.
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266 NEW BOOKS [May,
not from 580, but from 176-164; and Chronicles are after the
exile.
The synoptic problem is rather too summarily sketched;
but as to St. John, Dr. Barry says : " We conclude that our
Lord spoke according to the Synoptics; but that his thought
has been set in high relief by St. John." Our author is also,
evidently, in sympathy with P^re Lagrange in understanding
the scope and purpose of inspiration. He admits a very notable
Babylonian influence in Genesis.
We may congratulate and thank Dr. Barry for this book.
It is an encouragement to find a Catholic writer thus generously
and intelligently treating the critical study of the Bible, and
thus ready to welcome the results of honest and truth- loving
scholarship. Works of this kind must be relied upon to bridge
the chasm that yawns between science and faith, by manifest-
ing to scholars that we do not, and need not, shrink from any
of their sound conclusions, however far these may sometimes
be from opinions entertained by former generations.
Among the saving graces of the
POEMS. present generation should ctrtain-
By L. M. Sill. \y be numbered those fugitive lines
of poetry which, despite all other
demands of a busy world, the magazine editor still finds space
to publish and the reader time to enjoy. Often and often,
among these pieces, we come upon poems distinguished by
passages of exquisite beauty, sentiments which are most noble,
and form which is quite beyond reproach. From advertisement
and short story and cartoon, one turns to these for delight, en-
couragement, renewal of enthusiasm. They raise us up out of
the sordid and commonplace to what is eternally beautiful and
heroic; they remind us of men and women who are facing hope-
fully the problems which puzzle us, who are battling bravely
with the same temptations, the same loneliness, the same weari-
ness as our own. Those of us who still retain our youthful
capacity for affection treasure up the names of writers whom
we have found thus helpful. We save the clippings of our
favorite poems. And, when it comes, we meet with grateful
appreciation the announcement that, at last, a publisher has
gathered into a volume the verses which we have so fondly and
so constantly dwelt upon.
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i9o6.] New Books 267
In the present reviewer these reflections have been aroused
by the sight of a 1>eautiful book^ containing many of the
poetns with which, during recent years, Louise Morgan Sill has
been gracing the pages of our current periodicals. There can
be no mistake about the fact that this writer has a high sense
of the poetic vocation. To the fulfilment of that vocation she
brings sweetness, strength, and discernment. Some of her
shorter poems are models of lyrical beauty. "Out of the
Shadow" is true and touching, and purifying for a man to
read. " Mount Seward " manifests a deep and unmistakably
genuine spirit oi religious reverence. In general, the pieces^ —
the new as well as the old — possess a brevity, a sincerity, a
practical relation to human lite, which put them within the
grasp, and make them well worth the while, of readers who
would not care to follow transcendent flights. In places where
she touches upon the struggles of the soul with passion, with
pettiness, with selfishness, the author unites a sympathy for
the tempted to a sure moral instinct, which is pleasing to find
and good to remember in these days of confusion. Such quali-
ties make it easily possible for her to lead others upward.
As a human document, the book reveals an interesting and
attractive personality. It seems to show that, together with
something of the mystic's appreciation of invisible ideals and
the artist's ardent love of nature, the writer possesses a pas-
sionately sensitive and affectionate disposition. Tormented as
every aspiring soul must be by contact with evil, and by per-
sonal sense of sin, she is willing to pray and to suffer; she
will be no coward, but will bravely maintain the idealist's hope-
less struggle with the brutal realities of life. Hence her sing-
ing engages the sympathy of those who appreciate the com-
plexities of moral warfare and the gratitude of those who need
an example of courage and of hope.
To say that the poems are not all of equal merit, is to state
a condition of the excellence of the author's better work. To
declare some of the lines less smooth than with labor they
might be made, is to note a consequence of her direct and un-
affected style. She is consistently simple, spontaneous, and
straightforward, with no weakness for coining words or for im-
porting barbarisms, and she sings in Saxon undefiled ; and her
• /h Sun cr Shade. Poems. By Louise Morgan Sill. New York and London : Harper
& Brothers.
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268 NEW BOOKS [May,
verse, besides being limpid and musical, is sincere and enthu-
siastic. There is not a morally unwholesome line in her whole
work. The book, therefore/ is one which the author may well
feel proud of having produced and the reader thankful to pos-
sess.
As the title* indicates, this is a
ST. JOSEPH'S HELP. collection of stories of favors ob-
By Rev. J. A. Keller. tained in response to prayers ad-
dressed to St. Joseph. Many of
the incidents are striking. They are selected from a much larger
work of the author, in which the authorities for each case was
quoted. The simple, trusting, tender faith of the narrator is
contagious; and the book is sure to fasten in young minds a
devout confidence in St. Joseph.
It has become a truism that, in
ELEMENTARY APOLO- the present day, the main battle
GETICS. for the faith against outsiders has
By Fr. Halpin. shifted from the field of theology
to that of apologetics. Yet there
does not seem to be any general recognition of the equally in-
contestable and equally important fact that the conditions which
have brought about that change, also impose upon religious
teachers, in and out of the pulpit, the duty of giving more atten-
tion to the exposition and inculcation of the reasonable basis of
Christian faith, the praambula fidei. This volume,t whose author
has frequently given proof that he reads the signs of the times,
is a step in the right direction. It presents the fundamental
facts of Christianity in the light of reason, with the least possible
appeal to Revelation. The leading watchwords of infidelity are
successively taken up, to be made the subject of a chapter
embodying their refutation. Father Halpin does not profess
to treat the topics exhaustively, or with any rhetorical devel-
opment. He furnishes rather a series of suggestive notes that
are to be amplified and supplemented for the construction of
sermons. Every one of his fifty- two sketches deals with an
objection that is in the atmosphere which Catholics breathe to-
day, and against which they require the strengthening tonic
of sound instruction, as frequently as it can be administered.
• St. Joseph's Hilp: or. Stories of the Power and Efficacy of St. Joseph's Intercession, From
the German of the Very Rev. J. A. Keller. Second Edition. New York: Beniiger Brothers.
\ Elementary Apologetics for Pulpit and Pew. By the Rev. P. A. Halpin. New York:
Joseph F. Wagner.
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 269
This small pamphlet * of ninety
THE NECESSITY OF DOGMA, pages is a summary statement of
By Fr. Otten, S.J. the arguments for the divinity of
our Lord, the establishment by
him of the Catholic Church, and the universal obligation of
belonging to it. Father Otten is logical, brief, and forcible.
Having shown that since religions contradict one another, to
say that one is as good as another is to say that God is
indifferent to truth and error, he establishes the divinity of
Christ, chiefly by the argument that either Christ was an im-
postor — which nobody will affirm — or he was God, since, di-
rectly or indirectly, he declared himself to be God. It is to
be regretted that before leaving this pivot of his entire state-
ment, Father Otten did not explain the texts and passages which
those who do not believe in Christ's divinity urge against the
doctrine. It is just these texts and passages which will occur
to any unbeliever acquainted with the Scriptures, who takes up
this defense of the faith.
The learned author of this disser-
THE UNSEEN WORLD. tation,t who is a professor of the
By Fr. Lepicier. Propaganda, a consultor of that
congregation and of the Biblical
Commission, grants that, after all deductions for fraud and illu-
sion are made, the claims of spiritism to be able to communis
cate with the other world are well founded. But are these
communications, as the spiritists profess, carried on with the
discarnate spirits of the dead or with angelic beings ? To an-
swer this question Father Lepicier sets forth, besides the teach-
ing of the Church on the existence and nature of the angels,
all the scholastic speculative conclusions concerning the nature
of the angelic mind, the manner in which it acquires knowl-.
edge, the extent of that knowledge, the limitations of the an-
gels' power over things of the material cosmos, etc., etc., etc.
He then proceeds to unfold a quantity of similar information
concerning the conditions in which the human soul finds itself
with regard to the exercise of its faculties after death. The
disembodied "soul will have some knowledge of angels, not of
• I>0€S It Matter Much What I Believe f By Rev. Bernard J. Otten. S.J. St. Louis. Mo. :
B. Herder.
t The Unseen World. An Exposition of Catholic Theolo|:y fn its Relation to Modem
Spiritism. By the Rev. Father Alexius M. Lepicier, O.S.M. New York: Benxiger Brothers.
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2 70 New Books [May,
all angels, but of those with whom it may have established
some sort of relation during life." " Of other souls, also de-
parted out of this life, it cannot be doubted that the disem-
bodied soul will have some knowledge; and, indeed, a much
more perfect knowledge than it has in this present life, seeing
that it will gain it, not by appealing for its considerations to
any outward object, but simply by turning to its own self, it
being, as it were, a mirror in which other souls may be seen."
But it will not know all departed souls; of the greater number
it will know nothing till the advent of the Day of Judgment.
'' Not only is it impossible for us to manifest our thoughts to
disembodied souls by any sensible signs, but it is also beyond
our power to do so in an inward mental manner; that is, by
simply turning our minds to theirs, as is the case with angelic
beings." The conclusion at which the author arrives is that
the spirits which communicate with men in spiritualistic seances
are not departed souls, but fallen angels. Hence, such prac-
tices are unlawful and dangerous to both faith and morals. The
conclusion is, undoubtedly, much more solid than a great deal
of the mediaeval speculation on which the author founds it.
When reason undertakes to explore the secrets of the future
life, so very far beyond the limits at which the Church herself
stops short, the correctness of its inferences is, by no means,
unimpeachable. The oblivion to which scholastic teachings con-
cerning the location and extent of hell, the nature of the stars,
the character of the serpent which tempted Eve, etc., have been
consigned, warns us against placing implicit confidence in the
information, of a like quality, with which it has provided us
concerning the secrets of the future life, and the nature of an-
gelic knowledge.
For the space of ten years Mon-
ASPECTS OF ANGLICANISM, seigneur Moyes has written very
Py Canon Moyes. frequently in the London Tablet
on various topics relative to An-
glican claims and characteristics. Very few important occur-
rences or publications, bearing upon Anglican affairs during
the years 1890-1899, failed to draw some incisive comment Irom
his pen. A collection of his articles forms 'a goodly volume*
^ Aspects of Anglicanism, By MonseigDeur Moyes, D.D. Canon of Westminster Cathe^
dral. New York: Longmans, Green & Co.
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i9o6.] New Books 271
that throws many lights upon the inconsistency of the Angli-
can position, the historical flaws in the Anglican title, and the
weakness of the arguments advanced against Rome. As each
contribution was called forth by some transitory occurrence,,
or in answer to some public utterance, there is no methodic
sequence in the various chapters. And the author has wisely
refrained from endeavoring to impose upon the collection any
logical framework. But this feature of the book is not an un-
pleasing one. Of systematic arraignments of Anglicanism there
is no lack; and it would be difficult for a writer to present in
a new forni the abstract statement of the case. Here, how-
ever, instead of abstractions, we have a dramatic play of living
personages, a brief chronicle of the times, in which we may
follow many learned, earnest, religious men vainly endeavoring
to make the best of an illogical position, playing against an
able antagonist,, who checkmates them at every move. A large
number of the articles are concerned with individual instances
of authoritative or non- authoritative activities, which Monseig-
neur Moyes seizes upon to demonstrate that, judged by its liv-
ing expression, Anglicanism is "a system of divided thought,,
therefore of divided action." The others are, in general, an
application of the standard tests of continuity of doctrine ta
the English Church. His closing words might well be pon-
dered in America by those ritualistic clergymen who, while be-
lieving Catholic doctrines, yet profess to welcome to their com-
munion men who reject these beliefs : " If High Anglicans be-
lieve, as they assure us they do believe, that the doctrines of
the Real, objective. Presence, the Sacrifice of the Mass, and the
Invocation of the Saints are, indeed, integral parts of Catho-
lic faith, and the denial of them heresy, they must judge for
themselves how far the sacred rule of Catholic antiquity as to
communion with heretical teachers is trodden under foot by
them ; and how far their whole position in England at the
present moment is in absolute contradiction to it. Undoubt-
edly their situation is one beset with difficulties which com-
mand our sympathy. But Catholic Truth rests upon principles,
and where those principles claim our action, who shall plead
against them ? Who would not dre^d the responsibility of stand-
ing before the judgment-seat of Christ in the guilt of complic-
ity with those who have mutilated his message and contra-
dicted his teaching ? If merely to say God-speed be a par-
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272 NEW BOOKS [May,
takership with such evil deeds, what shall we say of the fel-
lowship of kneeling at their side to receive Communion?"
Monseigneur Moyes' able articles are worthy of their present
permanent form.
None of the distinguished Euro-
A STUDY IN ABNORMAL pean scientists who have devoted
PSYCHOLOGY, themselves to. the study of abnor-
By Morton Prince. mal psychological phenomena have
offered to the world any record of
a case more wonderful and puzzling than is contained in this
volume.* In the beginning of 1898 a young lady, refined,
educated, extremely shy, suffering from nervous symptoms, con-
sulted the eminent Boston specialist on nervous diseases. Dr.
Prince. Let us allow the doctor to epitomize the development
of her case, which he observed closely for several years, and
the history of which makes up this volume. "The subject of
this study is a person in whom several personalities have be-
come developed ; that is to say, she may change her personality
from time to time, often from hour to hour, and with each
change her character becomes transformed and her memories
altered. In addition to the real, original, or normal self, the
self which was born and which she was intended by nature to
be, she may be any one of three different persons. I say three
different, because, although making use of the same body, each,
nevertheless, has a distinctly different character; a difference
manifested by different views, beliefs, ideals, and temperament,
and by different acquisitions, tastes, habits, experiences, and
memories. Each varies in these respects from the other two,
and from the original Miss Beauchamp. Two of these person-
alities have no knowledge of each other, or of the third, ex-
cepting such information as may be obtained by inference, or
second hand, so that in the memory of each of these two there
are blanks which correspond to the times when the others are
in the flesh. Of a sudden one or the other wakes up to find
herself she knows not where, and ignorant of what she has said
or done a moment before. Only one of the three has knowl-
edge of the lives of the others, and this one presents such a
bizarre character, so far removed from the others in individual-
ity, that the transformation from one of the other personalities
♦ The Disioeiation of a Personality. A Biographical Study in Abnormal Psychology. By
Morton Prince, M.D. New York : Longmani, Green & Co.
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 273
to herself is one of the most striking and dramatic features of
the case. The personalities go and come in kaleidoscopic suc-
cession, many changes often being made in the course of twenty-
four hours/' Aside from the psychological interest of the
phenomena, says Dr. Prince, the social complications and em-
barrassments resulting . from this inconvenient mode of living
would furnish a multitude of plots for the dramatist or sensa-
tional novelist. We should think so. Compared with it, the
device on which the "Comedy of Errors" is constructed is a
mere transparency ; and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr.
Hyde comes near to the domain of probability.
Nowadays, everybody is chary of resorting to supernatural
causes for the explanation of abnormal occurrences, until every
other hypothesis is exhausted. This study of Dr. Prince, along
with similar ones of Flournoy, Agam, James, Charcot, and a
number of other scientists, enforces the conviction that abnor-
mal psychology has useful information and complex problems
for the philosopher and the theologian. The ingenuity of the
tests which Dr. Prince employed, the precautions that he took
against erroneous inferences, along with the acuteness of his
analysis of the perplexing puzzles of his case, and the aston-
ishing manifestations which occurred as the various phases of
Miss Beauchamp's life developed, give this volume all the
fascination of a novel, heightened by the assurance that one
is reading not fiction but fact. We' await with interest Dr.
Prince's theory and conclusions, which he promises to give in
a subsequent volume.
VOL. LXXXIII.— 18
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jForeian iperiobicals.
The Month (April): The English Parliament is about to discuss
once more an education bill. Father Smith, S.J., dis-
cusses it in advance in reference to its effect upon Catho-
lic education, Father Benson continues his "Extracts
from the Papers of a Pariah/' in which he is giving the
musings and reasoning of an Anglican on the various
objections made against the Church, especially by the
ecclesiastics of the Establishment. In this article he con-
siders the intellectual slavery of Catholics and the over-
bearing rule of the clergy. ^The editor contributes an
article on " Science and Religion/' being the substance
of a lecture on that subject.* The conclusion of the
writer is that there can be no positive conflict between
science and religion. ^The Comtesse de Courson gives
a charming sketch of Maria Louise of Savoy, Queen Con-
sort to Philip of Spain. With her usual delicately ar-
tistic touch, Miss May Quinlan describes a night spent in
a London night shelter where to scores of destitute men,
women, and children food and beds are given free.
The Musee Sociale, a centre of social activity in Paris,
forms the subject for an article by Virginia M. Craw-
ford. The Musee is an institution which has for its aim
the collection and diffusion, free of cost to the inquirer,
of information of every kind bearing upon any social
institution or movement intended to benefit the working
classes.
The Tablet (3 March) : At a recent Consistory twenty eight cpis-
copal appointments were proclaimed by the Holy Father.
Never before, perhaps, in the history of the Church, have
so many bishops been consecrated at the same ceremony.
The Holy Father's charge to the new bishops was full of
paternal feeling and most touching earnestness. Of these
appointments, only eight were not to French sees.
The danger of second-hand quotations is pointed out by
a writer of Literary Notes. An exanrple is taken frcm
an article **The Good Faith of Unfaith," ^hich ap-
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190&] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 275
peared recently in the American Catholic Quarterly Re-
view, Some misconceptions of Spinoza's philosophy
are cleared up, and an attempt is made to show that
the great Jewish thinker was by no means an atheist
and unbeliever.
(fo March): A leader notices our American publication.
The Lamp. This periodical calls itself Anglo-Roman,
and is devoted to the cause of corporate reunion between
the Anglicans and the Catholic Church.
(17 March): Pius X. has recently published a decision
on the practice of frequent communion. Frequent and
daily communion is to be recommended, and confessors
must have a care never to keep from daily reception of
the Sacrament any one who is in the state of grace
and is possessed of the proper dispositions.— —M. Widor
strongly approves the Vatican ** Kyriale." Henceforth,
he says, there is but one edition, the typical edition^
that of the Vatican.
The National Review (April) : The Episodes of the Month deal
principally with the conduct of the present government.
Viscount Milner writes on Great Britain and South
Africa. He maintains that the South African question
has now, unfortunately, got into the ruts of party. Eng-
land to retain South Africa must retain the affection of
the South African British. The policy of the present gov-
ernment is in danger of alienating them. ^The Right
Hon. Alfred Lyttelton wrftes on the same question. He
demands that the destiny of South Africa be lifted
above party, and describes ** the plight to which the
recklessness and vacillation of the last few months have
brought us." Rev. William Cunningham gives his im-
pressions of a six weeks' journey through South Africa.
" The reactionary elements," he writes, " are not so
strong as they were before the war"; the Dutch may
be trusted to push material development for their own
interests, but he doubts if they may be trusted to give
fair play to Englishmen. ^J. St. Loe Strachey con-
tributes a paper on how much the workingman gives
to the Revenue. The writer wishes that the man with
£i a week revenue, and less, would have to contri-
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276 FOREIGN Periodicals [May,
bute nothing. Indirect taxation, he maintains, cannot
be graduated, therefore he deprecates it. ''Strate-
gist '' contributes a technical paper on the '' Strategic
Duties of the Land Forces of the British Empire."
H. W. Wilson writes on Germany's hunger for a coal-
ing-station on the Central Atlantic; that is, on the sea-
board of Morocco. Austin Harrison writes on the ** in-
solvent " stage of England. In " The Unemployable *'
the Rev. Lord William Cecil pleads for a more rational
treatment of these members of human kind, and for
greater pity for their poverty and their infirmities.
C. E. de la Poer Beresford writes on the '^ Russian
Army and Its Loyalty." " Vigil " writes against Mr.
Bryce-s encouragement oi the Gaelic League as a ''whole-
some thing," by giving proofs that the League is politi-
cal as well as academic, and is working to eradicate all
forms of British influence in Ireland.
The Crucible (25 March): Outlines the career of Sr. Mary of
St. Philip Lescher as a promoter of Catholic education
in England. Recalls the history of the first Catholic
training college for women, and indicates the part played
by Miss Lescher in establishing, maintaining, aad per-
fecting that institution. ^The women of Italy no longer
believe that the pursuit of study and the fulfilment of
womanly duties are irreconcilable. Impelled by a de-
sire for learning, girls from all classes are attending
the higher schools and succeed in taking academic de-
grees. " Parallel with this thirst for knowledge among
Italian women, we find an infiltration of American ideas,
sometimes the cause, sometimes the consequence, of it.
In the higher classes this shows itself in a mania for
sport, many girls thinking it an honor to imitate the
manners of men. In the other classes it manifests it-
self in a somewhat unbridled longing for liberty, civil
and political." The old system of teaching geography
is contrasted with the new. Formerly the lesson con-
sisted, for most part, in committing to memory lists of
countries, of towns, etc.; in filling the mind with series
of unconnected facts, a process positively harmful, for
it exhausted the mental energy without giving any re-
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i9o6.] Foreign Periodicals 277
turn. In the new scheme geography deals with the phe-
nomena of the earth's surface, in so far as they help
explain man's relation to his terrestrial environment;
stimulates the exercise of the reasoning powers and elim-
inates all non-essential and cumbersome details which
tend to obscure the broad principles that are so much
more valuable an acquisition to the young mind.
The Catholic girl of England might be vicing with her
Anglican and non-CathoHc sisters in social works, were
she not lacking in initiative and the power of self-organ-
itatioti. Partly through social and educational reforms,
manual labor is being recognized as an ethical factor in
training. Hand* work confers precision, begets habits of
self-reliance, tends to build character, and is a moral
discipline of incalculable value. Miss Fletcher describes
the revolution which has taken place in the teaching of
drawlhg as a class subject.
Hibberf Journal (April) : Dom Cuthbert Butler, criticizing Sa-
batier's Religion of the Spirit^ maintains that the form-
less spirit- religion advocated by the French theologian,
is not at all countenanced by our Lord, and is incom-
patible with the nature of man. The fundamental fal-
lacy of M. Sabatier lies in his unwarranted assumption
that between true interior religion and a religion of au-
thority there exists a necessary^ antagonism. Dr. J.
Estlin Carpenter, writing on Japanese Buddhism, con-
cludes with the forecast that the moral ideals of Budd-
hism and Christianity will approach one another much
nearer than is the case now, and that we ^may have
many lessons to learn by contact with the reverence of the
Far East. Professor Drawn, of Cambridge, U. S. A.,
writes a rather remarkable article, pointing out that Chris-
tian theology is turning away from the metaphysical ap-
proach to reality by the way of intellect, and is begin-
ning to base its metaphysics in will- attitudes. Pro-
fessor Gardner, who is about to bring out a life of St.
Catherine of Siena, gives a beautiful sketch of that mar-
velous woman's efforts to heal the wounds of the Great
Schism. Of St. Catherine's mystical experiences, Dr.
Gardner says: "These are things of which one hardly
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278 FOREIGN Periodicals [May,
knows how to speak. These are but some of the many
peaks of the sacred mountain, up which Love leads the
human soul to union with the divine, in quest of abso-
lute truth and absolute beauty." ^The Rev. W. Jones-
Davies gives these three laws of doctrinal development:
I. The advance must be real; 2. It must involve new
statements of truth, and the casting aside of old formu-
las; 3. It must, while reaching forward to the future,
remain rooted firmly in the past. ^T. W. Rolleston
says that the resurrection of our Lord is not essential
to Christian faith. Sir Oliver Lodge gives it as an
immensely important truth that development and prog-
ress extend even to God himself, and that God is a
. being who '' enters into the storm apd conflict and is
subject to conditions as the soul of it all."
Le Correspondant (10 March): The last instalment of Thureau-
Dangin's series of articles, dealing with the Oxford Move-
ment, is a history of the last years of Manning and
Newman. In the early days of his episcopate the for-
mer was ultramontane to the core, his attitude in his
declining years was quite different. Much space is de-
voted to a description of his efforts to uplift the working
classes. Newman's old age was spent in a much differ-
ent way. After the celebrations attendant upon the re-
ception of the '' red hat," he passed into retirement
His last days were characterized by nothing that would
be of interest to the public.
(25 March): Bossuet's association with some of the great-
est scholars of the day, such as Mabillon, Montfaucon,
Penaudot, Nicole, and others, is described in an article
entitled ^'Bossuet and Biblical Studies." In it we are
told that Bossuet from his youth loved the Scriptures,
that he breathed in a biblical world and talked in a
biblical tongue. The author states that the celebrated
preacher derived great assistance from some learned Jews,
with whom he was on intimate terms.
£tudes (5 March): The first signs of the storm brewing over
the head of Father Tyrrell appear in an editorial of this
number. The editor announces a criticism of the writ-
ings and opinions of the learned priest that is to appear
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I906.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 279
soon in the pages of this magazine. It is stated (and
with keen regret) that most of the Catholic reviews have
given Fr. Tyrrell great praise. Still, there are some who
think his solution of religious problems to be ill-timed,
rash, and even erroneous. With this latter view in mind,
our editor hastens to disclaim all allegiance with his for-
mer brother. He says Fr. Tyrrell obtained an impri-
matur for Lex Orandi through a " regrettable error.*'
(20 March): Jules Lebreton concludes his articles on
the theories of the Logos at the beginning of the Chris-
tian era. In this issue he takes up the teaching of Philo.
In conclusion he states as his firm opinion that the
author of the Fourth Gospel was not a disciple of Philo.
La Quinzaine (16 March): Opens with an interesting article
from the pen of Georges Goyau on the social role of
'a country vicar. He makes his study and draws his
inferences from seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth
century types.-^— Andr6 Bonnefons describes the part
played by Carnot as member of the Committee of Pubic
Safety. Though by no means a radical, Carnot lived
the life of a real persecutor, and his exile and death
were a punishment hardly proportionate to his cruelties.
Henri Thibeaud compares the condition of* the Church
in France with that in Germany. The conclusion to be
drawn from this comparison is that French Catholics
are better off than their German neighbors,
(i April): Abb6 D. Sabatier concludes his study on A.
Gratry. This modern philosopher's view of science and
reason afford sufficient matter for a lengthy article.
L. Laguier describes in detail the school system of
England, making note especially of the condition of
Catholics under this system.— —In the September num-
ber of the Revue de Metapkysique et de Morale an article
appeared entitled "The Religious Education of the
Child." The author, practically an unbeliever, made a
few observations to which C. Huit, in this number, ob-
jects.
Revue du Clerge Fran fats {i$ March): M. Vacandard continues
his invaluable studies on the Inquisition. He traces the
growing horror manifested by theologians of the early
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28o Foreign Periodicals [May,
middle ages for heresy, and the development of the
idea that as Icesa majestas was punishable by death, so
heresy, which was Icesa majestas divina, ought also to
be visited with the same penalty. He quotes Paramo,
who maintained that the Inquisitorial procedure had a
divine pattern and that God was the first Inquisitor.
Paramo proves this from the examination and condem-
nation of Adam and Eve. The debita animadversio in-
flicted upon heretics was generally death by fire.
(i April): M. Bricout writes favorably of // Santo, P.
Cruveilhier analyzes P. Hummelauer's ideas on the au-
thenticity of the sacred books. Authentidty here means
that a book was really written by its reputed author.
P. Hummelauer maintains that authenticity is not a dog-
matic fact, and that criticism is perfectly free in impar-
tially examining whether this or that book was actually
composed by the author to whom tradition assigns it.—
A. Ducrocq points out that since Fran9ois Copp^e's con-
version, his enemies and the Church's enemies have ca-
lumniated him with the charge that his power has been
weakened by his faith. M. Ducrocq studies M. Copp^e's
later works to prove that this charge is false.
Rassegna Nazionale (i March): S. Monte comments on the lat-
est Encyclical Letter of Pius X. and the Pastoral of Mgr.
Bonomelli. It would be a grave matter if, in a problem
of such importance, two authorities of the Church, (and
though one of them is much lower than the other, he is
still an eminent authority) were to be in disagreement
and to preach different doctrines to the faithful. But
after an attentive, accurate, and conscientious examina-
tion, it seems plain that no real opposition exists. V.
Riccabona presents a dialogue between a Darwinian and
a Neo evolutionist, the latter leading through the various
steps of evolution to the God who is behind nature.
D. Zanichelli, reviewing Villari's recent volume of criti-
cal and historical discussions, suggests that the Holy See
might very well accept the annuity offered by the Italian
government without in the least surrendering its position
on the question of the temporal power.
Civilta Cattolica (17 March): Sketches the Japanese character
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I906.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 28 1
as studied by the missionaries of the sixteenth century,
St. Francis Xavier, and others. Continuation of the
empirical study of the relation between religion and
crime, the conclusion being that the more truly religious
a man is, the more free he is of crime. Reviews the
recent book of Semeria on Mediaval Civilization^ and
concludes with the suggestion : '' In general it will be, we
think, to the advantage of the reader, as well as to the
credit of the author and the good name of the clergy,
if to his future works Father Semeria devotea more pro-
found study and less haste."
Raxon y Fe (April) : Publishes the encyclical of Pope Pius X.
on the separation of Church and State in France.
P. Aicardo writes on Lope de Vega. P. de Abadal
continues his articles on the Hexateuch, controverting
the assertion, made by some, that there are objective
errors in Genesis taken historically. P. Murillo re-
views the volume of Pastor's History of the Popes which
deals with Leo X., and says that the reading of it, far
from diminishing the reputation of that Pontiff, rather
raises him in esteem, giving his noble figure propor-
tions quite gigantic.
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THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION.
ABBOT GASQUET has carried home with him to England some very
pleasant memories of Catholic associations in America. He was dis-
posed to be most genial in his manner and easily adapted himself to new sur-
roundings — as all travelers should do — so that many welcomed him as a dis-
tinctive type of the foreigner, kindly disposed, like his good friend, the late
Monsignor Nugent, of Liverpool, who was his guide and manager in the
voyage across the broad Atlantic. While listening to his brilliant conversa-
tion on the verandas of the cottages at the Catholic Summer-School, it was
difficult to realize that he had spent twenty years or more delving into the
musty historical annals of the British Museum, and that he had found docu-
ments to vindicate the much abused monks of the sixteenth century. In an
article published in the Dublin Review, Abbot Gasquet thus describes some
impressions of his visit to Lake George and Cliff Haven :
On Saturday, August 20, three days after reaching New York, we set out
for Lake Champlain and the << Summer-School," by way of the Hudson River
a% far as Albany, and thence by rail to Lake George. We had been asked to
spend the Sunday at St. Mary's of the Lake, the country home of the Paulists.
T6 one who in his youth had pored over the The Last 0/ the Mohicans, Thi
Pathfinder, and other stories of Fenimore Cooper, the country about Lake
George could not fail to be a delight. But the <' Lac du S. Sacrement," as it
was called by the French missionary who first discovered it, needs nothing in
the way of romance to give it interest or to add to its native beauty. In the
tWo days spent with the Paulist Fathers and students in their country house,
and in the greater freedom of their holiday life, I got to know them well and
to appreciate them, better perhaps than would have been possible under the
normal circumstances of their regular life. The memory of one day in which
I was initiated into the mysteries of American camp life, on an island some
miles away over the lake, is one of the treasured recollections of my trip«
During that and the previous day I had many delightful chats, on all kinds
of subjects, with many different kinds of men, young and old, and I came away
from this visit impressed with the solid piety of these religious, as well as with
their freshness and their determination to fit themselves for whatever future
labor they might be called upon to undertake. In the five and twenty younger
men, preparing themselves in their college at Washington for the priesthood,
the Paulists have a pledge for the future success of their many good works.
What struck me particularly in all of them was their single-minded devotion
to the life they had chosen, and the earnestness of their determination to
spend themselves unstintedly on work for God and his Church.
In the evening of the Tuesday I arrived by steamer at Cliff Haven, and
was welcomed to the "Catholic Summer-School " by the Rev. Dr. Denis J.
McMahon, the President, and Father McMillan, one of the directors. I was
quite unprepared to find that Cliff Haven, as a settlement, was entirely Catho-
lic. For some years now the school has possessed its own grounds — some
500 acres in extent — upon which various bodies, such as diocesan authorities,
associations of various parishes, or even individual Catholics, have erected
houses, where the members of the school obtain accommodation at reasonable
rates. The board of directors, who legally own the property, have laid out
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the grounds, made the roads, built the Church, and established a post-ofiice,
as well as a large public restaurant, where meals are served at regular hours.
Besides this they have built a theatre, or '* Auditorium," capable of seating
some 600 people (but already too small), where lectures are given, plays arc
acted, or other entertainments provided to suit the taste of all. The various
dwelling houses, moreover, during the sessions, vie with one another in get-
ting up dances, theatricals, and charades ; whilst boating, bathing, and fish-
ing, as well as a perpetual round of excursions, all help to make a stay at the
Catholic Summer-School pleasant as well as profitable.
Cliff Haven is thus already undoubtedly a great creation ; and, seeing
that it has been in existence only thirteen years, it has prospered beyond the
most sanguine expectations. As an educational factor, it is under the Edu-
cation Department of the State of New York ; and, especially in the early part
of the session, which extends over eight weeks, much serious work is done in
the training of teachers. Last year I was told that accommodation was pro-
vided for over 1,000 people on the grounds, and that the number actually
present at any one time had averaged from 600 to 800 all the summer. In
1903 the school was frequented by a total of 5,821 persons, and probably this
last season the number will not have been less than 7,000. The position cer-
tainly is most ideal ; this garden-city, with its pleasure grounds, stretches
along the shores ot Lake Champlain for three-quarters of a mile, and right
across the water the eye rests on the low opposite shores of the lake, backed
towards the east by the green mountains of Vermont ; whilst to the west,,
standing out in the clear air, are visible the outlying peaks of the great Adiron-
dacks. Some one has said of Cliff Haven that there was *' plenty of < sum-
mer * and very little 'school'"; but, after visiting the place, I feel sure that
this is a libel. The whole place is the school, and the whole atmosphere is
Catholic. The mere fact of seeing and mixing with writers, thinkers, and
teachers, and hearing them talk in the Auditorium, is an education in itself, even •
if there were nothing of a more serious nature. Formal lectures, however, are,
given every day in the session, from 8:30 to 12:30 in the morning, and from
8 until 9 in the evening. Of course attending lectures, like everything else
at Lake Champlain, is optional, but when I was there the attendance was
quite as large as any one could desire. The lecturer of the week during my
stay was Professor J. C. Monaghan. His subject was '' Commerce," and the
moral to be drawn from his discourses was the great opportunity which every
American citizen possessed in the natural wealth with which God had endowed
his country. He was a most instructive, convincing, and eloquent speaker,
who illustrated his subject with an amazing mass of statistics, and lightened
it with most felicitous anecdotes. Again and again during the course of his
lectures he appealed to the Catholic youth of America to be true to their
principles, loyal to the faith, and proud of their religion, as the surest way of
succeeding in life. Putting aside, however, the direct educational advantages
of such a place as the American Summer-School, the social advantages se-
cured by bringing Catholics together in such numbers are obviously very great,
and there can be no doubt, I think, that it tends to strengthen the hold of
religion on the rising generation. It would however, I fancy, only be pos-
sible to have such a school in America, where the distinction of classes is not
as marked as in the older countries of Europe.
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284 THE Columbian Reading Union [May,
Another visitor from Boston,^ who has been most active in the work for
Catholic Reading Circles ever since the early days of the Summer-Schooly
has written concerning the session of 1905 in these words:
My visit to Cliff Haven, after an absence of seven years, was most en-
joyable in every sense of the word. The many improvements were, I
thought, familiar fr«m hearsay, but I was really not prepared for the reality.
I was indeed pleasantly surprised. My only regret was that I could not pro-
long my visit to a month, at least. ... I think many of us will be trea-
suring thoughts of that pleasant spot during the coming months and insist-
ing upon having more of it.
• « •
Arrangements are now in progress for the fifteenth session of the Sum-
mer-School at Cliff Haven, N. Y., on Lake Cham plain. The work of pre-
paration assigned to the Board of Studies is nearing completion, and the
report from the Chairman, Rev. Thomas McMillan, C.S.P., contains the
following announcements relating to the schedule of lectures from July 2 to
September 7, a period of ten weeks :
First Week, July ^-d.— Lectures by the Rev. John Talbot Smith, LL.D.,
President of the Catholic Summer-School. Subjects: Literary Enemies and
Hendrik Ibsen. A series of original monologues in humorous vein recited by
the author. Miss Marie Cot6.
Special programme for the Fourth of July, which will be arranged in
conjunction with the committee in charge of '* The Old Home Week," to be
celebrated at Piattsburgh from July i to 7. Railroad tickets to be sold at
reduced prices.
Second Week, July g-13, — Five lectures by Lorenzo Ullo, LL.D., Brook-
lyn, N. Y. City. Subject: Cesare Cantii and the making of Italian Contem-
porary History. As a patriot Cantu was most devoted to the welfare of his
country. From his remarkable study of universal history, he was well quali-
*fied to hold a leading place among statesmen, and to prove that his loyalty
to the Catholic Church was in no way an impediment to patriotism.
Lectures for the second week of July have been arranged by co-operation
of Judge R. E. Healey, Grand Knight of Piattsburgh Council No. 255, and
Chairman of the Executive Committee in charge of the reunion of Knights of
Columbus from Vermont and Northern New York. Athletic games are to be
held at Cliff Haven July lo-ii. Full particulars will be given later, with a
statement of the reduced railroad rates, etc.
Monday evening, July 9. — Subject for discussion: The Claims of Com-
modore Barry, "Father of the American Navy," by John G. Coyle, M.D.,
Former District Deputy and Past Grand Knight, New York City.
Tuesday evening, July 10. — Grand Rally of the Knights of Columbus.
Addresses by the Very Rev. Joseph H. Conroy, V.G., Ogdensburg, N. Y. ;
the Rev. Daniel J. 0*Sullivan, St. Albans, Vermont.
Wednesday evening, July 11. — Social gathering in the Champlain Club
House, at Cliff Haven.
Thursday evening, July 12; Friday evening, July 13. — ^Two Lectures
on the Catholic Orders of Knighthood, by the Rev. M. G. Flannery,
Brooklyn, N. Y. City. In many books of fiction there are allusions to " days
of old when knights were bold," but these lectures will describe the reliable
annals of their history.
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i9o6.] The Columbian Reading union 285
Third Week, July /^^o.— Lectures by James J. Walsh, M.D., Ph.D.,
LL.D., as follows: I. Intimations of Intelligence in Inorganic World; II.
Imitations of Instinct in Plants; III. Instincts in Insects; IV. Animal In*
stincts ; V. Instinct and Intelligence in Man.
Evening recitals by Miss Catherine Collins, of the Ralston University,
Washington, D. C. Two lectures by the Hon. Thomas C. 0*Sullivan, New
York City, on Governor Dongan and early Colonial times in New York.
Fourth Week July 2J-27, — Studies in Irish History, by Mr. Charles
Johnston. Subjects: I. The Making of the Irish Race ; II. St. Patrick and
Classical Learning ; III. The Norman Invasion; IV. Wars Between Ireland
and England ; V. The Renascent Ireland of To-day.
General Bibliography. — A Concise History of Ireland, by Dr. P. W.
Joyce ; Literary History of Ireland, by Dr. Douglas Hyde, President of the
Gaelic League; Ireland^ s Story, by Charles Johnston and Carita Spencer;
Handbook of Irish Antiquities, by W. F. Wakeman ; Irish Local Names
Explained, by Dr. P. W. Joyce.
Evening lectures by the Rev. Robert Schwickerath, S.J., Boston, Mass.
Subjects: I. The Catholic Ideal of Education for Women ; II. The Teacher's
Character as an Educational Factor, containing many practical hints on dis-
cipline, school-management, and moral training; III. Educational Models
from the New Testament ; Christ and St. Paul as Teachers ; IV. Women as
Educators in the Early Christian Homes, with an account of the influence
pious women had on the minds of the great Fathers — Chrysostom, Basil, the
Gregories, etc.
Fifth Week, July jo-August j. — Alumnae course on the Literature of
Spanish America, by the Rev. Charles Warren Currier, Washington, D. C.
Evening lectures by the Rev. I. J. Kavanagh, S.J., Loyola College, Mon-
treal, Canada. Subject: The Eclipse Expedition to Labrador, illustrated
with views. Miss Anna Seaton Schmidt, Boston, Mass. Subject : The Art
and the People of France, illustrated by many reproductions of famous paint-
ings.
The deepest impression caused by Miss Seaton Schmidt's recent series of
lectures in the Pierce Building was, that religion has ever been the vitalizing
force of true art; and it is the greater tribute to the speaker's gift that this is
an impression rather than the result of a moral or spiritual analysis didacti-
cally conveyed. Not that the analysis is lacking, but one feels that the reli-
gious sentiment which was the inspiration of so much of the work of the old
artists appeals more powerfully to Miss Schmidt's temperament than their
technical qualities. The atmosphere of enthusiasm for spiritual truth, of
which the arts are but the mediums of expression, is a distinguishing charac.
teristic of Miss Schmidt's lectures, and it is needless to say that this quality
of thought and feeling is more stimulating and valuable in its influence than
any amount of scientific and historical criticism. — From the Boston Tran^
script.
Sixth Week, August 6-ro. — The tenor of those volumes of the Cambridge
Modem History dealing with the Reformation manifests the willingness of
non-Catholic scholars to reconsider many of the verdicts that have long stood
registered on Reformation topics. And as the Catholic cause received but
little justice from English historians in the past, every revision of traditional
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views, made in the fuUer^Iight and less prejudiced atmosphere of the present
;iay, results in a gain for the Church. The appearance of the Cambridge
History has suggested the opportuneness of a series of lectures treating of
some of the evil results in the social and political world that followed imme-
diately from the Reformation in England, France, and Germany, to be given
by the Rev. James J. Fox, S.T.D., St. Thomas* College, Washington, D. C,
under the general title of : The Cambridge History from a Catholic point of
view.
Four evening lecture-recitals, with specimen passages of the best types of
Plain-song, by the Rev. Norman Holly, Consultor to the Papal Commission
for the Vatican Edition of Liturgical Books, Professor of Gregorian Music at
St. Joseph's Seminary, Dunwoodie, N. Y.
Seventh Week, August 13-17. — Five lectures by Professor J. C. Mona-
ghan, Department of Commerce and Labor, Washington, D. C. Subjects:
L America, a Land of Unlimited Opportunities; IL A Study in Municipal
Government; III. Glimpses of Socialism; IV. Commerce and Culture; V.
The Real Yellow Peril.
Evening lectures on : The Church and Liberty of Thought, as shown by
the latest discoveries regarding Galileo and Savonarola, by the Rev. Ber-
trand L. Conway, C.S.P., New York City.
Monologue recitals by Thomas A. Daly, A.M., Fordham, General
Manager of the Catholic Standard and Times^ Philadelphia, Pa., Secretary of
the American Press Humorists.
Eighth Weeky August 20-24, — Five lectures by the Rev. William J.
Kcrby, Ph.D., Catholic University, Washington, D. C. Subject: Aspects
of American Social Reform.
Evening lectures by the Rev. A. Notebaert, Rochester, N. Y., on Belgian
Missions and Colonies in Africa.
The Chevalier de Cuvelier, Secretary-General of the Congo Government,
has sent to Bishop Van Ronsle the following letter of grateful acknowledg-
ment : It is my pleasant duty to convey to your lordship, and to all the Catholic
missionaries exercising their apostolate in the Congo, the wishes of the Gov-
ernment of the Congo for the prosperity of their evangelistic work. We are
pleased to acknowledge the spirit of self-sacrifice, zeal, and disinterestedness
with which missionaries of every religious order in the Congo are, in an equal
degree, animated. The State is most grateful for the co-operation of Catholic
missionaries in their efforts to civilize the native population, co-operation
which it deems indispensable for the material and moral improvement of the
natives. In honoring the memory of those who have sacrificed their lives by
sending their successors its best encouragement, and in assuring them of its
support, the State is only expressing its own sentiments and the sentiments
of those who, like it, know the persevering and meritorious labor which the
results so far obtained by the missionaries, notwithstanding the difficulties
encountered, have necessitated. I hope that your lordship will be good
enough to convey to all the missionaries in the Congo, Fathers of Scheut,
White Fathers, Jesuits, Premontres, priests of the Heart of Jesus, Trappists,
Redemptorists, Fathers of Mill Hill, and to the Sisters of our Blessed
Lady, Franciscan Sisters of Mary, White Sisters of our Blessed Lady of
Africa, Sisters of the Blessed Heart of Mary, Trappist Sisters, and Sisters
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i9o6.] THE Columbian Reading Union 287
of Mercy, the interest the Government takes in the progress made by each of
their missions, and how much it values their development ; and at the same
time add that the Superior Administration has been instructed, following the
appeal made by the deputation of mission leaders, received by the king (of
Belgium) November last, to examine in the most kindly spirit the different
recommendations which the missionaries may desire to make in the interest
of their work of evangelization.
As was to be expected, this policy of allowing to Catholic missionaries a
fair field has aroused opposition among the enemies of the Catholic Church.
Quite recently the New York East Conference of the Methodist Episcopal
Church adopted a resolution asking Pope Piux X. to use his influence to
eflFect necessary reforms and legislation in the Congo Free State. The re-
quest was as follows ;
The New York East Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church re-
spectfully requests his Holiness, Pope Pius X., to take into consideration the
reports of grievous oppression in the administration of the Congo Free State
and use his potent influence to secure an effective reform.
Thursday evening, August 23, is assigned for special addresses relating
to the Local Associations of Cliff Haven with the War of 18 12. An original
poem dedicated to Commodore McDonough will be read by the author, Mr.
John Jerome Rooney, New York City.
Friday, August 24.— Reading Circle Day. Tributes to the memory of
the late Secretary of the Catholic Summer- School, Warren E. Mosher, A.M.
Ninth IVeek, August 27-ji. — Five lectures by the Rev. Francis P. Sieg-
fried. St. Charles' Seminary, Overbrook, Pa. Subject: The Philosophy of
the Head and the Heart.
The purpose of this course will be to indicate certain philosophical prin-
ciples involved in the more or less familiar psychological and moral phe-
nomena connected with the head and the heart. The physiology of the two
organs will lead to a description of those phenomena, and the principles will
be traced in a study of the opposition, harmony, and relative bearings of the
forces which the respective organs symbolize in human life. The relation of
those principles to the ideals of the Summer-School will then be determined.
Evening lectures on Dentistry; its History and its value in our Modern
Lives, by James E. Power, D.M.D., Vice-President of the Rhode Island Den-
tal Society.
Lectures on the Social Effects of Catholic Teaching, by the Rev. Thomas
F. Burke, C.S.P., New York City.
Tenth Weeky September j-7. — Four lectures by the Rev. John Talbot
Smith, LL.D. Subject: History in the Drama, with special reference to Bar-
Ibarpss^ and the Pope; Joan of Arc; Mary Queen of Scots; and Lucrezia
Borgia.
Conferences to promote the Advancement of Parish Schools and Sun-
day-Schools.
Lessons in Gaelic dancing by Miss Loretta Hawthorne Hayes, Water-
bury, Conn.
Instruction in music by Professor Camille Zeckwer, Director of the Ger-
mantown Branch of the Philadelphia Musical Academy.
Sloyd lessons by Miss Pauline G. Heck, Providence, Rhode Island.
Classes for children in the Ralston System of Physical Culture, with
Swedish Movements, etc., by Miss Catherine Collins, Boston, Mass.
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BOOKS RECEIVED.
The Macmillan Company, New York
Christianity and tht WorkUig Classes, ^ ^ jt •"
Lady Baltiwiore, By Owen Wister. Illustrated. Pp. xiii.-4o6. Price $1.50.
Christianity and the Working Classes. Edited by George Haw. Pp. 255^. Price $1.50.
~ -....- iii.-4o6. Pri<
Harper & Brothers, New York:
In Sun or Shade, Poems. By Louise Morgan Sill. Pp. 225. Price $1.50 net.
Charles Scribner's Sons, New York :
The New Far East. By Thomas F. Millard. Pp. xii.-320. Price $1.50. The Philippine
Experiences of an American Teacher. By William B. Freer. Pp. xi.-344. Price
$1.50 net.
Longmans, Green & Co.. New York :
Aspects of Anglicanism ; or. Some Comments on Certain Events in the Nineties. By Mgr.
Moyes, D.L). Pp. viii.-49i. Price $2.50. Key to Universal History : Being an Essay
on Historical Logic. By Charles E. Devas. Pp.321. Price $z. 60.
Bbnzigbr Brothers. New York :
Lenten Readings. From the Writings of the Fathers and the Doctors of the Church, as
found in the Breviarv. Translated into English by John Patrick. Marquis of Bute.
Arranged by Father John Mary, O.F.M. Pp. 176. Price 75 cents.
Kenedy & Sons, New York:
A Year With the Saints. Translated from the Italian. Pp. 397. Price $1.
Fr. Pustet & Co.. New York :
Ofganum ad Kyriale Romanum. By Dr. Fr. X. Mathias. Price $1.75.
Christian Press Association. New York:
Questions of the Day. By Rev. Alex. MacDonald, D.D., V.G. Vol. II. Pp. 223.
Fischer & Brothers, New York .
Catholic Church Hymnal. Edited by A. Edmonds Tozer. Edition with Music. Price $1.
Church Classics. Edited by A. Edmonds Tozer. Price 75 cents.
Cassell & Co., Ltd., New York :
Five Famous Ftench Women. Illustrated. By Mrs. Henry Fawcett. LL.D. Pp. viii.-304.
Price $2.
D. H. McBride & Co., New York :
Month of our Lady of the Blessed Sacrament. From the Writings 6i Pire Eymard. Price,
cloth bound, gold title, 50 cents net.
A. C. McClurg & Co., Chicago :
The Ghost in Hamlet; and Other Essays in Comparative Literature. By Maurice Francis
Egan, LL.D. Pp. 325. Price, net. $1.
B. Herder, St. Louis:
Fra Gtrolamo Savonarola. By Rev. George Lucas, S.J. Pp. xxxii.-474.
Catholic Music Publishing Company. Boston :
Cecilia Edition of Catholic Church and School Music. Afass for Four Voices. Price 60
cents. Lead Kindly Light. Three Voices. Price Z2 cents. To Him who for our Sins
was Slain, Price 3 cents.
Government Printing Office, Washington, D. C:
Annual Report oj the United States Life-Saving Service. Pp. 472.
Gabriel Beauchbsue et Cie., Paris:
Nouvelle ThMogie Do^atigue. By R. P. Jules Souben. Pp. 137. Price 2 fr, 50.
Histoire de la Thiologie Positive. By Joseph Tunnel. Pp. xvi.-440. Price 6 fr.
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THE
CATHOLIC WORLD.
Vol. LXXXIII. JUNE, 1906. No. 495.
THE CATHOLICISM OF ST. FRANCIS.
BY MONTGOMERY CARMICHAEL.
Super omnia fidem Sanctcs Romana EccUsia servandam, venerandam et
imitandam Jore censebat^ in qua sola salus constiiit omnium salvandorum.
; — Thomas of Celano (i22g), .
HMtique sans s*en douter, — Paul Sabatiet (i8g4)*
\0 write of the Catholicism of St. Francis, to show
that he was a Catholic, may well seem a super-
fluous, even an idle, task to commonsense peo-
ple of all religions. For the fact comes out
objectively, luminously, from all the authentic
records. St. Francis was baptized in the Catholic Church and
lived in communion with her; his institute was, at his request,
approved by the Churchy and at his request was placed for all
time under the guiding hand of a Roman cardinal; he suffered
cheerfully for her greater glory and died most sweetly in her
bosom ; and finally the Church, grateful and adoring, raised
him to the honor of her altars, as a model of charity^ sanc-
tity, obedience, and heroic virtue. Really the Catholicism, the
orthodoxy, of St. Francis, is a question beyond all dispute,
and those who admire him are surely bound to admire the
faith which was the sole source of his heroic, saintly, self-
sacrificinc; life.
But there are modern admirers of the saint who admire in
him all things save this same inspiring faith ; to be consistent,
they should admire most of all that which most of all inspired
Copyright.. Z906. Thb Missk>nart Society op St. Paul thb Apostle
IN THE State of New York.
TOL. LXXXIII.— 19
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290 The Catholicism of St. Ffancis [June^
him to the deeds they admire. It is a curious instance of the
antipathy which the Church of Christ is bound to arouse in
those who are not of her, and which ranges from bitter hatred
to polite diffidence. Not that these modern admirers of St»
Francis deny outright that be held the faith — fact is too strong
for them ; but they do seek to show that he was not quite so
firm and stiff in his orthodoxy as his contemporary Catholics^
that he was averse from dogma, opposed to authority, and
imbued with a pietistic and quietistic religion, which in the
end would have emancipated all men from the necessity of in-
termediaries between God and man. And all this is conveyed,
not by direct statement, which could never be sustained, but
by hint and innuendo, by inference and subtle insinuation^
couched in persuasive rhetoric and clothed in dazzling anti-
thesis.
Miss Anne Macdonell is a great admirer of St. Francis,,
and has written a very clever book about him and his dis-
ciples. But she has done much to travesty his true portrait.
''Sometimes,'' she says, ''soimetimes he speaks respectfully of
theology."* The inference is that sometimes he docs notj
the truth is that he always did. ''St. Francis always speaks
respectfully, nay often with glowing enthusiasm, of theology " ;
this is how the sentence should have run, if it were to present
to us the saint's true opinion, for he has described theologians
as "those who minister unto us spirit and life."t Again she
says: "He never undertook a plan of the world's salvation ";|:
but he preached and practised the Catholic religion, whose plan
is precisely the world's salvation.
Yet another strange trait, and here we pass from faulty
portraiture to something like caricature. "True Pantheist, how-
ever good a Catholic — and, indeed, where's the contradiction?"^
This singular statement is a characteristic instance of the itch
ing desire of certain moderns to have the great saint of Assist,,
somehow or other, associated with heresy. What a gusto, to
be sure, in thus boldly dubbing him Pantheist! In an effort
at consistency, which collapses in absurdity. Pantheism and
Catholicism are declared to be identical — " where's the contra-
diction?" No two systems could well be more irreconcilable
• Sons ofFroMcis, London : Dent. 190a. P. 17.
t Testament of St. Francis. See Father Paschal Robinson's excellent vernacular vex^ik
of all the saint's works. Thi WriHnis of SL Francis, Philadelphia : The Dolphin Pres6. 1906^
%SoHSo/Framcis» P. 25. ^IM. P. 16.
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1906.] The Catholicism of ST. Francis 291
than the Pi^ntheistic and Catholic conceptions of God. No
matter; the glib, alluriilg phrase will have stuck with seme of
this writer's readers, and they will go away repeating, no
longer that the saint was a ''Morning Star'' of the retrograde
Reformation, but a forerunner of the enlightened system of
Spinoca, or shall I say of Schelling and Hegel ?
One further instance from Miss Macdonell, because it is £0
thoroughly characteristic of the modern non- Catholic attitude
towards St. Francis. In the introduction to her interesting
little book, The Words of St. Ftancis^^ she writes : " In my se-
lection I have tried to reflect his spirit, his temperament, and
his attitude to life, rather than his doctrine. For his doctrine,
it was that of the Roman Church of his day, which he never
questioned." t In the latter sentence we have a plain, straight*
forward statement (for which we are grateful), but is it not
passing strai^ge that she should seek to exclude that very doc-
trine, the inspiring source which informed the spirit of the
saint* governed his temperament, and shaped his attitude to
life, without which, spirit, temperament, and view of life would
have been empty, vain, and barren ? Fortunately Catholic doc-
trine so thoroughly permeates the writings of St. Francis that
even Miss Macdonell in her little book has failed to exclude
it altogether.
But it is M. Paul Sabatier, with his great talents and chatm-
ing, convincing literary style, who has made the most deter-
mined effort at the de- Catholicizing of St. Francis of Assisi.
Here again hint, innuendo, subtle insinuation, brilliant rhetoric,
and dazzling antithesis are the chief weapons. M. Sabatier,
whose diligence is unwearied, has learnt much since he pro-
duced his Life of St. Franeis.t and I am persuaded that his
re«written life <^ the saint — promised us now a good many
years ago— *will be a very different thing from the original.
But the original remains in circulation ; it is near its fortieth
edition; it has been translated into English, German, Italian;
it has never been repudiated by the author, save in the state-
ment that the Indulgence of the Forziuncola was never asked
for by the saint or granted by the Pope. Therefore, we are
still perforce obliged to draw upon the book lor M. Sabatiet's
view of St. Francis.
* Tendon, Dent, 1904. UbU. Pp. 8-9.
% Vie de St, FraHfois. Paris: Fischbachcr. 1 894.
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292 THE Catholicism of St. Francis [June,
In the Introduction a characteristic attempt is made to show
that new anti- Catholic, or at least un- Catholic, ideas were per-
meating the Church in the thirteenth century. We are told
that the people of Italy, above and beyond the official, cleri-
cal, divinely- appointed priesthood, hailed and consecrated a
new priesthood, a real, laic priesthood, based on natural right —
the priesthood of the saints.* It sounds grand, it looks noble,
in its wizard French dress ; it will not bear analysis in French
or any other language, and M. Sabatier's English translator has
so far realized the absurdity of talking in plain English of a
^priesthood of laymen, based on natural right, as being possible
.in the Italy of the twelve hundreds, that she quietly, if very
unfairly, drops all reference to the '* rdel, laique, de droit natu-
rel,'* merely translating *' they were greeting and consecrating
a new priesthood, that of the saints." f On the same page we
are told that the saints of the thirteenth century were the wit-
nesses for liberty against authority. We look in vain for a
single instance. It is a wanton raising of dust to insinuate
t*at there is any contradiction between true liberty and true
authority. The saints always remained submissive to the au-
thority of the Church ; under authority alone did they recog-
nize true liberty; and it is littje shprt of lolly to suppose that
the Church would hold up as models of sanctity, witnesses for
liberty against her authority.
It is in the white light o£ misconceptions such as these that
M. Sabatier draws his portrait of St Francis. He boldly af-
firms that the saint owed nothing to the .Church, and dpes npt
hesitate to declare that he refused to be ordained priest be-
cause he < had divined the superiority of the spiritual priest-
hood.f One reads such a sentiment with ama;sement; one's
wonder is increased to think that a book containing it should
go into forty editions instead of sinking into instant oblivion.
Great indeed, however blind, must be the desire of human-
* '* . . . dans le midi. au-dessus du sacerdoce officiel, ddrical, de droit divin. il saloait
et sacrait un sacerdoce nouveau, r^el, lajque, de droit naturel, celui des saints." IHd, Pp^.
yi.-vii.
t The Life of St, Francis of Assisi. By Paul Sabatier. Translated by Louisa Seymour
Houghton. London : Hodder and Stoughton, 1901. P. xiv. This is not the only instance
in which the translator, without note or comment, has spirited away the inconsistencies, I
should more justly say, the absurdities of the original.
t " . . . il refusa du moins toujours d'etre ordonnd pr^tre. II devinait la superiority da
sacerdoce spirituel." Introd. P. vii. I note, en paaant, that St. Francis had evidently not
divined the superiority of the spiritual deaconhood, for we know for a fact that he was or-
dained an " official " deacon. See L Cel. 30 (BoUandists, $86), " quia levita erat."
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i9o6.] The Catholicism of St. Francis 293
ity to filch from the Church her noblest ornaments, if people
can be found to believe, approve, admire, and propagate such
a sentiment as this. If St. Francis ever refused the priest-
hood — and there is no record that it ever was pressed upon
him — it needs no seer to divine that the humble saint's motive
would in the main be humility. For of one thing we have the
fullest record ; and that is, the awe and veneration with which
he regarded that " official " priesthood which M. Sabatier would
have him hold so far inferior to the ** sacerdoce^ reel^ la'ique^
de droit naturel^* " If I were to meet a saint from heaven,"
said the humble St. Francis, "in company with the humblest
priest, I would honor the priest first and hasten to kiss his
hands. And I would say: You must wait, St. Laurence, for
the hands of this man touch the Eternal Word, and have in
them something above nature."* His deep, unquestioning rever-
ence for the clergy is thus described in the so-called Legend of
the Three Companions : " He desired that his friars should do
signal honor to priests who dispense the most high and vener-
able sacraments, and wherever they should meet them he would
have them bow down before them and kiss their hands, and
should they meet any priests on horseback, he desired that they
should not only kiss their hands, but the very hoofs of their
horses — and all out of reverence for their Office." f For» as
Celano says, " he venerated priests and embraced every order
of ecclesiastics in an exceeding great love."t
In his own writings we have still stronger testimony that
St. Francis knew no priesthood save the priests of the Catholic
Church, that to him they were the only sacerdoce spirituel.
In his second " Epistle " the saint declares that God honors
priests above all men. <^ In his first "Epistle" that clerics alone
and none else can administer the Word of God; || in his First
Rule that priests alone have the power of binding and loosing.^
Hear him on the subject of the " official clergy " in the Twenty-'
sixth Admonition: "Blessed is the servant of God who ex-
hibits confidence in clerics who live uprightly according 10 the
form of the Holy Roman Church. And woe to them who de-
*II. Cel. a. 153 (Amoni, 3. 129). I have here the satisfaction of citing for the first time
the noble and definitive edition of Celano's Legtnds, just published by P^re Edouard d'Alen-
5on. {Sancti Francisci Assissiensu Vita et Miracula, additis Ofusculis Liiurgicis. Auctore
Fr. Thoma de Celano. Hanc Editionem novam ad fidem MSS. recensuit P. Eduardus Alen-
(oniensis, Ord. Fr. Min. Cap. Rome: Desclde Lefebre. 1906).
\Ug. III. Soc, $57. tl. Cel. 22 (iJollandists, ^63).
$0/irirW«(Edit. P. Lemmens). P. 103. I Ibid, P. 91. ^ Ibid, P. 50
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294 THE Catholicism of Si. Francis [June,
spise them ; for even though they (the clerics) may be sinners,
nevertheless no one ought to judge them, because the Lord
himself reserves to himself alone the right of judgii^ them.
For as the administration with which they are charged, to wit,
of the most holy Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ —
which they receive and they alone administer to others — is
greater than all others, even so the sin of those who offend
against them is greater than any against all the other men in
this world."* In the Testament he testifies with equal elo-
quence to his belief in the exalted character of the priestly
office: ''The Lord,'' he there says, ''gave me so great faith
in priests of the Holy Roman Church on account of their
Orders, that if they should persecute me I would still have
recourse to them. And if I had the wisdom of Solomon I
would not preach in the poorest priest's parish against his will.
I desire to fear, love, and honor them as my masters, and I
will not consider sin in them, for in them I behold the Son
of God, and they are my masters." f Small wonder that with
such sentiments as these the humble saint, in awe and trem-
bling, refusa toujours (Titre ordonni pretre. Yet with these burn-
ing words betore him, M. Sabatier can seek to show that there
was some other kind of priesthood that the people of Italy,
and of course St. Francis, regarded with greater love and
veneration.
I would not have it supposed for a moment that M. Saba-
tier ever denies outright, in plain language, that St. Francis
was a Catholic. On the contrary, he admits it in saying that
the attitude of the saint towards the Church was "that of
filial obedience." t But he immediately qualifies by adding that
such an attitude seems strange in him, when of course it was
the most natural thing in the mediaeval world, and further on
he roundly affirms that, owing to the saint's ignorance of ec-
clesiastical discipline, he was a heretic without knowing it;—
hiritique sans s*en douter.** % It does not occur to him that
even if the saint had expressed heretical opinions, or been
guilty of heretical conduct in ignorance, the highly-placed ec-
clesiastics of the Court of Rome, with whom he was in such
close relations, would soon have enlightened his ignorance,
and* had he proved obdurate, he, who was already so promi-
• Writimis. By Father Paschal Robinson. P. i8. f Opmsemla. P. 78.
X Introduction. P. ix. $ Ibid, P. xiv.
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1906*] THE Catholicism of St. Francis 29 j
nent a figure in the Church history of the day, would soon
have been sequestered from the possibility of doing harm.
When M. Sabatier has got well on into his book, he has
forgotten the charge that St. Francis was a heretic unawares,
and we are told that the saint skirted the borders of her-
esy without ever actually falling into it — // cStoiera longtemps
VhMsie^ sans y tomber jamais.*^ ^ But even here the name of
the founder of the superlatively Catholic Order of the Friars
Minor has, by skillful innuendo, been coupled with the idea of
heresy; the saint, if not a heretic, is supposed for long to
have been near heresy: 'tis a characteristic specimen of the
subtle insinuation which disfigures the book throughout, and
has done so much to distort the simple Catholic figure of the
least complex of the saints. The saints are the Church's chief
glory ; to her they were the greatest of mankind ; her ideal of
h«man grandeur is a saint ; her most manifest desire, that all
her children should be saints; she finally raised these children
of hers to the honors of the altar, and is in continual daily
communion with them. The Church has done all this natural-
ly, spontaneously, from the love of God, and in fulfilment of
her divine mission. This is simple historical fact, which any
impartial student might be expected to admit. M. Sabatier
has another view. **The Church," he says, "has so cleverly"
{note the charge of trickery) " so cleverly claimed them (the
saints) as her own, that she has succeeded in creating" (ob-
serve the constant insistance upon artifice) " a sort of right to
them. This arbitrary confiscation," he continues, "must not
continue forever — far from making the saints of less account,
let us show forth their true greatness." f
M. Sabatier's idea of showing forth the true greatness of
St Francis, is to picture him as contemptuous of the priest-
hood, false to the Church, and attracted by heresy. Such
sentiments may argue a greater nobility of mind than has the
Catholic mediaeval or modern, who sees in the priesthood the
ministers of God, in the Church his living oracle, in heresy
the present and future undoing of mankind — but plain, histori-
cal record shows us that such sentiments would only have
aroused horror in the soul of St. Francis of Assisi. Those
• Vie de St, Francois, P. 94.
t Introdaclion. P. xvii. '* L'Eglise les a si bien r^clam^s comme Iiii appartenant qu'elle
a fini par crtcr en sa fiveur une sorte de droit. II ne faut pas que cette confiscation arbitraire
dure ^teraellement."
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296 THE Catholicism of St. Francis [)une,
who wish to admire him have perforce to admire him as bne
of the truest, noblest, most legitimate, and most natural pro-
ducts of the Catholic Church. He is as indissolubly wedded
to the Church to-day as he was in the days of his terrestrial
pilgrimage, nor, to use the eloquent words of a charming non^
Catholic writer — what a relief it must be to write thus freely
without the possibility of being dubbed "bigot" — "nor shall
the avarice of a thousand starving heresies ever deprive her of
him, or him of her." * We have worked hard of late, in the
name of historical exposition, to defend him from those who
would deprive her of him and him of her. Perhaps our labor
has been, if not in vain, then to a great extent unnecessary.
The gentle spirit of humor which illumined the sayings and
doings of Francis of Assisi is still living and potent to* day;
it was characteristic of him to stifle a fad by laughter; and I
cannot but think that the latest effort to detach him from
loyalty to his Church will die rather under the ridicule which
it is arousing than in consequence of the many able, critical,
and historical replies which it has called forth.
. It is a relief to turn for a moment to a few of the ringing
professions of the faith that was in him which stand forth lu-
minous and illuminating in his writings and his biographies.
Nothing, perhaps, brings out more conspicuously the saint's
desire for an orthodox and conventionally correct Catho*
lie attitude, than his practical invention of the system, since
adopted by all the Orders, of Cardinal Protectors. St. Francis,
with the consent of Pope Honorius III., had chosen Ugolino,
Cardinal Bishop of Ostia, as Cardinal Protector of the first
Friars Minor, or, as Celano vigorously phrases it, ** dominum
eligerat super universam religionem et ordinem fratrum stiorum.** f
It was not merely a passing idea, based upon the needs of the
moment, it was an inspiration by which he sought to set the
seal for all time of incontrovertible orthodoxy upon all his
brethren present and to come, for we find the idea of the Car-
dinal Protector embodied in his definitive Rule. '* I enjoin,"
he there says, " upon the Ministers, under obedience, that they
ask of the Pope one of the Cardinals of the Holy Roman
Church to be governor, protector, and corrector of this Fra-
ternity, so that being always subject and submissive at the feet
• Edward Hutton. The CitUs 9/ Umbria, London : Methuen. 1905. P. 256.
fl. Ccl. 2. 5 (Boll.. $99).
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i9o6.] THE Catholicism of St. Francis 297
of the sam6 Holy Church, steadfast in the Cathoh'c Faith, we
may observe poverty and humility and the Holy Gospel of our
Lord Jesus Christ, which we have firmly promised.***
The Rule, which closes with so striking a note of Catholic
orthodoxy, opens with an equally whole-hearted promise of
obedience to the Holy See and Holy Church. " Brother Fran-
cis promises obedience and reverence to Pope Honorius and
his successors canonically elected, and to the Roman Church." f
Yet it is of the saint who wrote and thought like this that
we are asked to believe that he professed (and consequently
taught) heresy unawares; or, at all events, that he was per-
petually on the verge of heresy, if he never actually embraced
it. His straightforward devotion to the Church, per se^ comes
out in a hundred places of his writings and authentic biogra-
phies. No one of his brethren might be received into the
Order "contrary to the form and institution of Holy Church"; J
no one of them might preach '' contrary to the form and insti-
tution of the Holy Roman Church " ; ^ no one might even
preach in the diocese ot a bishop who refused his consent; ||
that brother who should stray from the Catholic faith, or
Catholic life, in word or deed, and not amend himself, was to
be utterly expelled from the Order ;^ no one might enter the
Order until he had been examined in the Catholic faith and
sacraments of the Church, and had promised to confess and
observe them unto the end.** In the light of such elementary
Catholic maxims, it is singular, even in this topsy^turvey age,
than non-Catholics, and even anti Catholics, can be found who
boldly call themselves "Franciscans." Nay, a too perfervid
Belgian writer has not hesitated to call the " International So-
ciety for Franciscan Studies," composed mainly of people who
refuse that obedience to the Pope and the Roman Church
which St. Francis exacted from his disciples, " a Fourth Fran-
ciscan Order."tt
Besides the touchstone of submission to Rome St. Fran-
cis* orthodoxy is strongly brought out by his belief in hell|t
and the devil,^<^ by his tender devotion to the Blessed Virgin,
* Cap. xii. of Rule of 1223. t Rule of 1223. Cap. i. \ Rule of xaax. Cap. ii.
j Rule of laai. Cap. xvii. || Rule of 1223. Cap. ix.
IT Rule of 12^1. Cap. xix. •• Rule of 1223. Cap. ii.
ft Arnold Goffin. St, Frangois d' Assise, Louvain, 1903. I take this fact from the notice
of the book in the AnaUcta Bollandiana, Vol. XXIV. P. 160.
tl Rule of 1221. Cap. xxii., xxiii. Rpistola I,
$$ Rule of I22X. Cap. xxi. Epistola /. (passim.)
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;298 THE CATHOLICISM OF ST. FRANCIS [June.
whom he constituted Advocate of his Order,* by his devotion
to the angels and the saints,t by his insistent command of
auricular confession,! and by his overpowering love and venera-
tion of the Blessed Sacrament. *'And these most holy mys-
teries I would honor and venerate above all things." § In
•conclusion it is instructive to note how emphatically Raman is
the Catholicism of the Poor Man of Assisi. St. Bonaventure^
in his golden legend, writes: ''He taught them (the friars) to
praise God in all things and through all things, to honor
priests with special reverence, and firmly to believe and sim-
ply to confess the truth of the Faith held and taught by the
Holy Roman Church." || And hear Celano's sure and certain
Toice: ** Above all things he considered it necessary to hold
fast, to venerate, and to follow the Faith of the Holy Roman
Church, in which alone is placed the salvation of those who
are to be saved."lf
This brief paper may seem to some not to bear out the
purely constructive promise of its title, to be controversial rather
than serenely expository. But what need is there to prove to
Catholics that a saint, whose life and doctrine have passed
through the searching crucible which precedes canonization,
was in deed and in truth a Catholic? If we lay any public
emphasis on the fact at all, it is because certain modern ad-
mirers of the saint, contrary to all the known sources of infor-
mation, seek to reclaim him from the *' arbitrary confiscation "
of the Catholic Church and proclaim him — who knows what?
Better far that they should reckon him a benighted bigot, than
that they should succeed for a moment in depriving him in the
eyes of one human being of good will, of his chief and most
luminous characteristic, that of being a loyal son of the Catho-
lic, Apostolic, and Roman Church, whose divinely appointed
Head, in good report and evil, was to him the Vicegerent of
God upon earth.
• II. Cel. a. 150 (d'Alen9on) ; 3. 127 (Amoni) : " Matrem Jesu indidbili complectabatur
amore, eo quod Dominum majestatis fratrem nobis effecerit."
t II. Cel. 2. 149 (d*Alen9on) ; 3. 126 (Amoni).
I Rule of 1221. Cap. xx. Epistola I, and (emphatically) Ep'uUla IN. See also I. Cel.
\^ (Boll., $46), in which is recounted the touching episode of how St. Francis and the first
friars continued confession to a priest, although they knew him to be a man of bad life.
$ Tistamemt, And see Epistles I, and V.
DSt. Bonaventure. Cap. iv., J3 (Bollandist, $42).
^ I. Cel. 22 (BoUandists., $63).
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ST. FRANCIS AND MODERN SOCIETY.
BY FATHER CUTHBERT, O.S.F.C.
^UCH as the world admires St. Francis, there is
yet a tendency, even with some of his admirers,
to regard him as a pure idealist and to miss
the eminently practical note of his teaching.
" St. Francis/' says one, *^ is a fascinating figure
to gaze upon, but he belongs to an order of existence far re-
moved from the ordinary worka-day world. What can such
a one as he have to say to a world where money is a neces-
sity of existence, and where one is obliged to maintain a cer-
tain social exclusiveness and exercise some measure, at least,
of worldly prudence ? The Fioretti is an idyll refreshing to
the jaded sense of a hustling, commercial age, but as a standard
for actual life, who can accept it, save perhaps a few enthusi-
asts whose interests are apart from the world's main stream ? "
In this paper we shall endeavor to show that St. Francis,
idealist though he undoubtedly was, is of the order of those whose
ideals have a relation to man's common life. And indeed one
might well ask, in reply to the sort of criticism first instanced,
if St. Francis was the unpractical dreamer some take him to
be, how came it that the religious movement he initiated had
such deep and widespread effects in the history of the Church
and the nations ? It has been said of him, by competent stu-
dents of history, that he gave the death-blow to the feudal
system of the Middle Ages, and averted for three centuries
the schisms of the sixteenth century; that he consecrated with
a religious sanction the democratic awakening of his time, and
anticipated by six centuries the aspiration for social justice
which we are apt to regard as a special attribute of our own
age; that to his personality is largely due the creative art of
the fourteenth century; and that to him and his friars we are,
in no small degree, indebted for the impulse which created the
national literatures of modern Europe. Surely such a man,
whose life has had such practical results, cannot be lightly
dismissed as a mere idyllic songster or figure of romance.
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300 St. Francis and Modern Society [June,
Of the further influence of St. Francis' teaching, in the de-
tails of individual and social life, we shall not be able to speak
within the limits of this paper. All we can attempt is to ex-
pound the fundamental principles upon which his life and mes-
sage were based.
But first I would remark that St. Francis belongs to the
order of those who bear witness to large ideals; he must not
be taken as a propounder of small regulations. He was a
prophet pointing the way of life, rather than an official regu-
lating the traffic. He was not, strictly speaking, an adminis-
trator, nor was he a logician. He was a man born to live
rather than to rule. He was an apostle rather than a director
of souls in the modem sense of that word. Hence we do not
come to him for petty rules of daily life, but for those higher
principles which underlie exterior action and passing circum-
stance. The Poverello's teaching has this in common with that
of his Divine Master, that it deals with the more elemental
motives and forms of conduct, rather than with the mere prob-
lems of the hour. He was neither theologian nor lawyer, but
a prophet setting forth fundamental truths which endure under
all changes of time. It is the duty of lawyers and theologi-
ans to apply great principles to the needs of the moment, and
clothe truths in the language of the hour; but, the prophet
has the higher task of witnessing to the elemental truth itself
and of appealing to the deeper humanity which abides.
I.
The message of St. Francis is commonly summed up in the
phrase Holy Poverty — and if one must have a good word-sign
for the saint's teaching, undoubtedly no better can be found
than this; for St. Francis himself often spoke of "Most High
P6verty " — " Altissima Paupertas " — as the sum of his ambition
and the object of his deepest affection. As St. Bonaventure
puts it: ''None was ever so greedy of gold as he was of pov-
erty, nor did any man ever guard treasure more anxiously
than he this Gospel pearl." (Legenda Major ^ vti.) And yet it
is easy to misunderstand the word and to take it in a signifi-
cance alien to St. Francis' mind. Poverty was, in truth, the
rule of his life, but ** Most High Poverty" meant for him a
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i9o6.] St. Francis and Modern Society 301
good deal more than the absence of material comfort or lack
of this world's goods. Poverty — the state of the poor — was
to him a sacramental sign of an abundant spiritual life.*
He loved poverty, not because of its absence of life's joys,
but because it stood in his thoughts for the condition of a
subtler joy and a more generous spiritual experience. In his
early years he h^d known what wealth can do for a man, how
it opens out to him the road to pleasure and ambition, and is
apt to ensnare him in worldliness and centre his mind on the
present life, to the exclusion of the eternal things o| the soul.
He had been brought up in a world where commercial ambi-
tions and love of power were the predominant factors in a
man's life, and he had learned from his own experience, and
his knowledge of his class, how such a life tends to blunt the
spiritual affections and make a man ** of the earth earthy."
Hence, after his conversion from the world, he cafue to regard
wealth as a temptation and a snare, and money as a symbol
of the worldliness from which he had escaped. At times he
spoke as though the possession of property and the very hand-
ling of money were an evil in itself; as in the saying recorded
by St. Bonaventure {Legenda Major ^ vii.) : " Money, O brother,
is unto the servants of God naught else than the devil and a
venomous serpent."
And St. Francis' words must always be taken in a sense
relative to the occasion which calls them forth. He. was speak-
ing on this occasion to a friar who, like himself, had already
renounced earthly possessions, but in whom there was evidently
still some slight hankering after the joy of possession, even
though it were but the joy of possessing in order to give to
others. And St. Francis spoke as a warning to '' the servants
of God," meaning those who had embraced with him the life
of absolute poverty. That he had no fanatical ideas about the
inherent evil of money, as spm^ of the heretics of his time
had, is quite evident from his attitude towards those who were
not called by a divine vocation to embrace the Franciscan life.
He never upbraided the rich simply because they retained
their riches, and in his Rule he strictly forbade the brethren
to judge them. No; money and possession was a temptation
and a danger, the cause of incalculable mischief in the world,
as he actually saw it, and at the best it fettered a man's soul,
* See The Friars and How Thty Came to Bngland, Introductory £$s^y, page ai.
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302 St. Francis and Modern Society [June,
bringing with it worldly responsibilities and cares from which
the devoted follower of Christ is best free.
So, on the other hand, poverty is to be blessed and cher-
ished because it sets a man free from the temptations and
cares of wealth to devote himself the more unreservedly to
the service of Jesus Christ. But the poverty which sets the
soul free is not the unwilling poverty one too frequently meets
with in this world's highways and byways. There, indeed,
is an absence of this world's goods and comforts ; and in their
stead is squalor or discontent, or the wearing anxiety for the
next day's bread. This is the poverty which has not, yet
would have, if it could — the poverty of the man who, by choice
or circumstances, lives for the world which treats him badly.
That, of course, is not the " Most High Poverty " of St. Fran-
cis, but, as he himself might have expressed it, her unspiritual
sister. If one might venture to put the answer to the ques-
tion of poverty into the saint's mouth, it would probably be
somewhat as follows: "It is sad and pitiable that they who
live for the world should be deprived of the world's comforts;
but it is better not to live for the world, for so a man will
not be overcome by the world's discomforts"
Upon this principle St. Francis, ever the most large-hearted
of men, whilst himself indifferent to material comforts, iTiasyet
grieved when he saw others suffering because of poverty. They
had not the secret which made poverty a joy to him ; so he
pitied them in their necessity, and would relieve them when
he could. In itself poverty might contribute either to spiritu-
ality or unspirituality, to sorrow or to joy, just as the bread
which is one man's food, can be another man's poison. And
St. Francis had seen how multitudes of men are demoralized
in the poverty which is their lot. But this unhappy fact did
not prevent him from seeing the spiritual possibilities which
poverty opens out to the ''men of good will" who aspire to a
niore perfect Christian life.
Rightly then to understand Franciscan poverty we must take
it, not as an economic factor in the world's life, but as a prin-
ciple in the discipline of the soul. The renouncement of pos-
sessions was with St. Francis the first step towards the reali-
zation of the perfect Christian life; apart from this ultimate
ambition, and the entire discipline it implied, Franciscan pov»
erty has^ neither meaning nor virtue.
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i9o6.] St. Francis and Modern Society 305
We a$k, then) what is this life and discipline for which haljf
poverty became the word-sign in the days of St. Francis?
It is nothing else than the endeavor to reproduce in one-
self, as literally as one can, the life of the Gospel as set fortb
in the words and deeds of our Divine Savior and the first dis-
ciples.
It may be said that, after all, this is only what all Chris-
tians are supposed to attempt. Yes; and St. Francis himself
would be the first to admit this. So convinced was he of it,,
that he constantly asserted that his vocation was but to walk
in the path of the Gospel and fulfil the perfect Christian life.
That was his simple ambition. But though this might be the
comoion profession of Christians, yet in actual life religion, as
St. Francis found it, was very much a compromise between the
Gospel precepts and the wisdom of the world. Secularism had
invaded the sanctuary, and by all manner of pretexts justified
its presence there ; the Gospel was accepted as the rule of life^
but with the interpretations put upon it by a worldly spirit.
Religion, with the multitude, was in fact an endeavor to make
the best both of this world and the next, as far aa that could
be done. And, in truth, is not that very much the character
of the religion of the multitude at any time ?
The worst feature of it all was that the Christian world at
large seemed unaware that this was not pure religion. Secu--
larism in religion was justified as a holy alliance between the
Gospel and the world. Men had grown so accustomed to the
argument that the world belonged to Christ and the Church,
that insensibly they lost sight of the essential antagonism be>^
tween the spirit of the Gospel and the world's spirit. The tt^
suit was, as might be expected, that for the Christian multi«>
tude — both learned and ignorant, high-born and low-born-
Christianity meant little more than a secular theocracy, in which
the eternal was domina.ted by the temporal, rather than con-
trariwise. The sublime unworldliness of the Gospel was lost
sight of and explained away. Christ's Kingdom had become
very much of this world.
Even in the monastic state the taint was perceptible. The
spiritual was made subservient in practice to the temporal; the
influence of the Abbey in the politics 6f the State was of more
concern than the saving of a soul ; at least the saving of souls
was regarded with a view to the effect on the temporal su-
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304 St. Francis and Modern Society [June,
premacy. It was not that the spiritual concerns of souls were
left out of county but that, in an insidious fashion, they were
too much connected with, and often unconsciously to the people
themselves made subservient to, merely temporal concerns. To
put it vulgarly, religion had become an asset in the running
of the State, and in the pursuit of one's worldly interests ; not
by any conscious hypocrisy, but because the point of view was
for all immediate and practical purposes limited to this world.
Men believed intensely in heaven and hell, as the reward or
punishment of life on earth, but that did not prevent them re-
garding this ' world as the lawful possession of the faithful whilst
they were on earth. True it is, and one must not lose sight
of the. fact, that a spiritual Israel existed in the Church even
in its most secularized periods, numerous holy souls to whom
the Gospel of eternal life appealed, and who separated them-
selves entirely from the secularist views of the multitude. But
it was reserved to St. Francis to bring the . Christian society
at large to the judgment seat, and compel the multitudes to
listen again to the simple teaching of the Gospel.
The first principle in St. Francis' life was to take the Gospel
in its literal sense whenever it was possible so to do. Just as
in after life he declared that his Rule was to be taken **sin€
glossUf* without subtle interpretation, so from the beginning
he was accustomed to take the Gospels in their plain and evi-
dent meaning. When, therefore, as he listened one day to a
priest reading the Gospel at Mass, and heard our Lord's com-
mand to the Apostles that they should go forth and preaqh,
taking neither silver nor gold in their purses, nor scrip nor
two coats nor shoes nor staff, * Francis, conscious of his own
apostolic vocation, took these words as a command to. himself,
and at once cast aside his scrip and staff and shoes, and hence-
forth went barefoot.
In like manner, when his first companions joined him, he
took them to the church and asked a priest to open the book
of the Gospels and read to them the words of the open page,
and hearing in this fashion the evangelical command: ''If thou
wilt be perfect, go sell what thou hast and give it to the poor,"
he straightway bade his new companions distribute their goods
to the poor.
When, on another occasion, a certain applicant for the
♦Matthew x. 9, 10.
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i9o6.] 57". Francis and Modern Society 305
habit, instead of giving his goods to the poor, distributed
them amongst his relatives, St. Francis refused to receive him,
since he had failed to comply with the Gospel precept. In
like manner he took literally the precept of evangelical meek-
ness ; regarding which the Fioretti has preserved such a charm-
ing illustration in the seventh chapter entitled : '^ How St.
Francis showed to Brother Leo in what things consists perfect
joy."
Again his determination to allow of no fixed revenues in
his Order, and his command that his disciples should depend
simply upon their labor or the alms of the faithful for their
sustenance, was but his application of the conclusion of the
sixth chapter of St. Matthew : '' Be not solicitous for your life
what you shall eat, nor for your body what you shall put on.
Is not the life more than the meat ? etc."
Thus, in all things, he endeavored to take the simple word
of the Gospel as his rule of life, nor was he at all patient of
what he regarded as man's interpretations designed to accom-
modate Christ's teaching to the dictates of worldly wisdom.
In the life of one less Catholic- minded than St. Francis,
this very attempt to take the Gospel literally, would easily
have ended in heresy and schism, as in fact it bad already
done in the case of the Waldenses and kindred sects. It may
be truly said that the only literal interpretation of any spoken
word can come from the mind which utters it. No man has
ever yet been able to give the exact equivalent of another
man's thought; and hence interpretations easily go astray, un-
less checked by the original speaker. The heretics professing,
like St. Francis, to take literally the words of the Gospel, ap-
plied Christ's teaching in a narrow legalistic sense, utterly
alien to the spirit of Christ.
Francis was saved from this disaster by his Catholic in-
stinct, which kept him ever in union with the heart of the
Church, in which dwells the mind of Christ. With him the
mere words of the Gospel were not the all-in-all of the Gospel;
they were but the indications of the mind of Christ, of that
intangible truth which no words can adequately express. He
took the Gospel as literally as he could, but he went beyond
the words and imbibed their spirit. His complaint against the
worldly interpretations, which departed from the letter of the
Gospel, was that they were in opposition to the spirit behind
VOL. LXXXIII. — 20
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3o6 St. Francis and Modern Society [June^
the letter; but no one felt more keenly than he, how the pro-
fessed literalness of the heretics was also in opposition to the
spirit of Christ. The whole difference between St. Francis and
the heretics was that with him the letter of the Gospel was
but a means of realizing in actual life the larger truth and the
larger life which Christ came to give us, and which he gives
us through the Catholic Church.
Francis accepted this Catholic truth and life with simple
and unhesitating faith, just as he accepted the words of the
Gospel in simple and unhesitating faith. In fact, Francis ac-
cepted in the primitive Christian type all its later genuine de-
velopment in the life of the Church ; he rejected only the cor-
ruptions which had gathered around this development; and he
was able to distinguish the true life from its corruption, be-
cause he himself was so wholly Catholic, and instinctively
divined what belonged by right to Catholic life, and what was
but a parasitic growth. If, in certain instances, Francis seems
to insist too emphatically upon the letter of the Gospel, and
to ignore the wider problem, it is simply because, in the cir-
cumstance, the immediate need was to insist upon the obvious
meaning of the letter against unspiritual interpretations of it;
but his life bears witness to the larger truth which lies behind
the letter. Thus he himself would, like Christ, possess nothing
of this world's goods; he took literally the precept: "If thou
wilt be perfect, go sell what thou hast and give it to the poor,'^
and this rule he imposed upon his friars.
Yet in dealing with the multitude of Christians, even in-
deed with those of his disciples who lived in the world — the
members of his Third Order — he never sought, to impose this
precept in all its literalness. He set before them the ideal of
evangelical poverty, as a counsel of perfection and as a disci-
pline of the Christian life; yet recognized that amidst the
actual circumstances of the world many must live by the spirit
of the precept rather than by its letter. Yet he would have
them keep the precept ever in mind as a corrective to worldly
wisdom, and, as far as they could, live according to it. Thus
when a certain parish priest came and begged of him a rule of
life, St. Francis bade him, amongst other things, to distribute to
the poor at the end of each year whatever superfluity of goods
remained to him out of his yearly income. Similar to this
seems to have been his injunction to the first Tertiaries, so
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i9o6.] St. Francis and Modern Society 307
many of whom on receiving the habit gave to the poor what-
ever they did not need for their own modest sustenance. In
a wordy if they could not renounce all possessions and live in
the poverty of Christ, they were to hold their property as
though it were not theirs, regarding what they held as a trust
for the needs of their neighbors, as well as for their own fru-
gal maintenance. There was in all this none of the narrow
fanaticism of the heretics, but the "sweet reasonableness" of
the Catholic mind which makes the external act always sub-
servient to the spiritual purpose. The essential note of Christ's
poverty was an indifference to earthly possessions, rather than
passion for non-possession, which might be as disturbing to
the spirit as a desire for possession, and notwithstanding cer-
tain sayings which, taken by themselves, might have a fanati-
cal flavor, it is evident from the general tenor of his life that
this same note of indifference was at the root of St. Francis'
teaching about poverty.
Thus the fundamental idea of St. Francis was to take the
Gospel in all simplicity, rejecting that "wisdom of the flesh"
with which the Gospel teaching is so generally diluted in the
lives even of "good Christians." But this return to the Gos-
pel was to be on Catholic lines, was to be regulated indeed by
the letter of the Gospels, but also and even more by that
Catholic wisdom, which comes from the mind of Christ, and to
which the letter of the Gospels is but a witness.
Appealing then for his authority, not merely to the words
of the written Gospel, but to the Divine Mind in the Church,
St. Francis taught that the first condition of a truly Christian
life — not, be it remembered, of a monk's life, but of a Christian
life — is indifference to earthly possessions. From the point of
view of Christian perfection, it is well for a man if, like our
Divine Lord himself, he can renounce all ownership and be
freed from the cares of wealth. But this is the privilege of
the few who are set apart for special service in Christ's king-
dom on earth. Yet no man can hope to attain to Christian
perfection as long as his heart is set upon earthly possession.
It may be that his duty to his family, or the State, or other
circumstance compels him to acquire and retain this world's
goods ; and in this case the perfect Christian will consider his
ownership a trust of which an account must be rendered to
Christ; a trust to be used not for self-indulgence but for
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3o8 St. Francis and Modern Society [June,
good, and especially for the relieving of those in want. The
giving of one's goods to the poor was, indeed, an integral part
of this evangelical poverty. To enrich one's family is in some
measure to enrich oneself, is to retain for oneself at least the
prestige of wealth, and this was opposed to the indifference
and detachment of Christ. Therefore, St. Francis would have
all superfluous goods distributed to the poor; since he held
that those in need had a prior right; the alms given to the
poor being, in fact, their inheritance under the Gospel. For
so St. Francis understood Christ's adoption of the poor in
Matthew xxv. 34-45- To give to the poor is to give to Christ
himself, to whom whatsoever we have belongs by the highest
right ; it is to acknowledge that all ownership amongst men is
but a trust committed to man by Christ, and therefore before
God not an absolute possession ; for " the earth is the Lord's
and the fullness thereof."
But this evangelical poverty, as St. Francis understood it,
went beyond indifference to material possession. The poor of
the Gospel not only do not seek wealth; they are equally in-
different to the dignities and honors of the world and to worldly
position. For so Christ taught his disciples when he bade
them remember that his Kingdom is not of this world. Again,
as with regard to material possessions, it may be that a man
must occupy a position in society which places him above his
fellowmen. Francis was not of those who would destroy so-
ciety and the conditions necessary for its maintenance ; but in
this case, as in that of ownership, he held that social position
and authority are trusts for the common welfare ; that the honor
conferred by the position belongs to the position, rather than
to the man, and, therefore, that no man could rightly esteem
himself a better man than his fellows because of his position.
He would have superiors and those who occupy places of
honor remember that, in themselves, they are but the breth-
ren of the lowest in the social scale, and that the power they
wield is not for the assertion of themselves but for the good
of the community.
Social position in the eyes of St. Francis meant, for a Chris-
tian, responsible service, an account of which must be rendered
to Christ on the judgment day. Hence an arbitrary exercise
of power by those in authority is a betrayal of trust, a per-
version to the worship of self of that authority given to a man
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I906.] 57: FRANCIS AND MODERN SOCIETY 309
by Christ for the good of one's fellowmen. For this reason,
St. Francis would not allow the superiors of his own Order to
assume titles which might be taken to admit a personal (as
apart from official) preeminence amongst the friars. The Su-
periors must be styled Ministers, or Guardians; they were es-
pecially forbidden to assume the title of Prior,* '* since they
arc to remember that they are all brethren." For they were
not to be as the princes of the Gentiles referred to in the Gos-
pel, ** but whosoever is the greater among them, let him be their
minister and servant, and he that is the greater among them
let him be as is the younger, and he who is the first let him
be as the last."t
Such was St. Francis' teaching regarding those who held
positions of authority or honor amongst men, and he was fond
of quoting the example of our Lord at the Last Supper, when
he washed his disciples' feet, as the rule by which superiors
should be guided in their dealings with their inferiors.
But just as he recommended the renouncement of all prop-
erty to those who were free to make it for the Gospel's sake,
so he held that the man desirous of Christian perfection should
not seek positions ot honor or power, since the innate ten-
dency of man's nature makes these positions a danger to the
soul, and at best they are full of cares which distract a man's
thoughts from the life of the spirit. To seek honors and
power is a sign of a spirit alien to the spirit of Christ. Only
when constrained by duty to others should a man accept them,
and then he must hold them as a trust committed to him by
Christ for the fostering of God's kingdom on earth. But in
himself, whether he occupy a preeminent place in society, or
not, St Francis would have every one regard himself as a ser-
vant ot his fellows, after the example of Christ, who came to
minister unto others and not to be himself ministered unto4
It was thus that St. Francis taught the doctrine of univer-
sal obedience in opposition to the pride and arrogance of
which the world in his day gave such a lamentable example.
For the love of dominance and power, he would substitute the
service and obedience of Christ; against the thirst for worldly
honor, of which he himself had had experience in his own
youth, he would bring the humility, the love of being hidden,
which the Gospel taught.
• See First Rule, Cap. 6. f First Rule, Cap. 5.— Matthew xx. 25. | Matthew xx. 28.
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3IO 57; Francis and Modern Society [June,
Poverty and obedience — detachment from earthly posses-
sions and the disposition to serve rather than to rule — these
are the essential notes of the evangelical discipline, according
to St. Francis, the necessary conditions for entering into the
new life of the spirit which the Gospel offers to its faithful
disciples. This evangelical discipline is not the life itself, but
the condition for entering into the life. What the life itself is
we shall now consider.
II.
This life, to which poverty and obedience were the outer
gates, was none other than that which is revealed in the Gos-
pels, and was so brilliantly revealed in the primitive Church —
the life in and for Christ. To St. Francis, as to the first
Christians and all true Christians, Jesus Christ was the Lord
of all life ; for him the ultimate wisdom and joy would be at-
tained when all created existence was brought into immediate
relationship and communion with its Lord.
This, of course, is but the Catholic conception of " the new
earth " which the prophets and the Gospel proclaim. To the
Catholic mind Christ, as the Incarnate Word, is the king of all
creation, the centre of all finite existence. The first amongst
men, the exemplar and crown of all human life. To him all
created things, when they live rightly, bear witness ; and to
bear witness to the life of the Incarnate Word ' in one's own
life, to manifest his perfection, is the creature's own perfection.
Hence religion under the Gospel might be defined as con-
scious union with Christ, or again as the fulfilment of the
mind of Christ, or submission to the reign of Christ. But,
whichever way one describes it, the essential note must be de-
pendence upon and union with Jesus Christ. The Gospel is
not primarily a code of morals, nor a syllabus of intellectual
truths; it is in its essence the binding up of all created life
with God through the Incarnate Word. From this intimate
inter-communion result both a moral code and a dogmatic
creed; but the raison (Vetre of Christian morality and dogma
is the "life in Christ." St. Francis realized this truth with
peculiar vividness, and his life was its exemplification. He
realized it not only in his personal consciousness, bqt he also
mpressed it, with peculiar vividness, upon the mind of his own
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i9o6.] St. Francis and Modern Society 311
and succeeding ages. It is not a truth of which the multitude
can easily keep hold. The tendency to reduce religion to ex-
ternal codes is always strong; and it works mischief to the
spiritual life when it leads men to receive these external codes
apart from the spiritual life whence they issue. They then be-
come either a mere conventional formalism, or result in an un-
spiritual legalism. This danger is always present in religion
and always will be till the earth is peopled by the saints.
It is easier to be moral than to be spiritual, easier to as-
sent to a creed than to realize its living content. The living
of a spiritual life is, for the not yet wholly regenerate, an in-
cessant effort and striving towards a goal ever beyond our
present achievement, a goal surrounded by mystery; it is the
climbing of mountain heights by men who naturally seek the
plains; and it tolerates no easy compromise. But a man can
be moral, and yet live much in the things of sense; he can
give an assent to a creed, and yet make his religion but a de-
partment in his life rather than its informing principle.
St. Francis' life was superlatively a protest against this easy-
going externalism. He made the people of his day realize, as
they had never realized before, that religion is a whole-hearted
devotion to Jesus Christ, a surrendering of oneself to him ;
taking his view of life, having no love into which he does not
enter, pursuing no purpose which he does not bless. St. Fran-
cis made men recognize that true religion is to walk in the com-
pany of the living Christ, and to act under his sovereignty.
When listening to St. Francis, St. Clare, the Blessed Bernard
da Quintavalle, and the host of others who came to him, felt
that they were brought into the very presence of Christ, and
that they had passed through the portals of the law into the
liberty of the children of God.
But here, again, we must distinguish St. Francis' action and
method from that of some heretics. These were constantly ap-
pealing from the prevalent externalism of the times to the
spiritual presence of Christ. But, whereas they were forever
denouncing external rites and symbols, even the Sacraments, St.
Francis went by a different method, and was actuated by a
different principle. So entirely alien was the Catholic mind of
the saint from the heretical spirit that, whilst they poured con-
tempt upon even the most sacred rites and laws of the Church,
St. Francis had for these same laws and rites the utmost ven-
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312 St. Francis and Modern Society [June,
eration. In exactly the same way, the heretics had no rever-
ence for the visible, material world which they held to be a
manifestation of evil, whilst St. Francis saw in the visible
creation a sort of sacramental manifestation of the life of God.
The saint's method, in keeping with his veneration for ex-
ternal nature, was not to denounce or destroy, but to point to
the spiritual realities behind the laws and the creed. He had,
indeed, little regard for the petty and numberless rites and
forms with which smaller souls love to ticket off their service,
and which to him would have been a source of distraction and
a wearying of the spirit; but for the larger rites and essential
forms of religion, sanctioned by the Church, and for all laws
and symbols which had a direct relation to spiritual realities,
he had the most intense devotion. And in truth nobody, who
knows anything of St. Francis and his joyous deliglit in the
visible world, would expect otherwise. To him the Church was
indubitably Christ's kingdom on earth, and the Pope Christ's
vicar; the Sacraments were Christ's own operation in this
kingdom ; the laws of the Church were Christ's will. But —
and this is where his reforming influence was felt — he saw
Christ in the Church. The Church was not to him merely an
earthly institution, with a mandate from its Divine Founder;
it was to him consciously the mystical body of Christ — "Christ's
other self." Unworthy members might defile that Sacred Body,
as the Roman soldiers defiled it in Herod's house and on Cal-
vary; still, as a corporate body, it was yet one with Christ.
Whatever spiritual life was in it, was Christ's life working up-
on the ages till the world's end.
So, too, in the Sacraments it was Christ working upon men
and drawing them ever into communion with him; not merely
symbols of his presence, but his actual presence in the ap-
pointed operation of his ministers. Even in the common do-
ings of ordinary human life, so long as these things were not
the working out of a man's selfishness or sinful arrogance, he'
beheld an intimate relation with Christ, the Worker, the Director,
and Lord of Life. He had, for example, a peculiar reverence
for written words, so much so that he would never correct
what he had written. The written word conveyed an eternal
truth and, therefore, must be respected, and when the word
written was the name of God, he would preserve it almost as
though it were Christ's Sacramental Presence.
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i9o6.] St. Francis and Modern Society 313
In like manner, he could not bear to see men destroy any
living thing; for every living thing manifested the creative
power of God, and belonged to God. And so it came about
that, whilst he raised his disciples' thoughts above the world,
he yet gave them a most intense reverence for the world; the
very visible creation itself became to them an open Bible. So
it was again that, in convincing his generation of the essential
mysticism of true religion, St. Francis at the same time con-
vinced them of the sacramental efficacy of the Church, and
brought about a more sincere and intimate regard for the
Church as the manifestation on earth of Christ's abiding Pres-
ence. In this way, whilst the heretics would have destroyed
the Church to make way for a so-called religion of the spirit,
St. Francis built up the Church upon a deeper foundation of
spirituality, and effected in very deed a worship of God in
spirit and in truth.
I have but little space left to point out the moral of all
this to the life of the present age. Yet, if I may attempt
briefly to answer the question : " What has St Francis to teach
the world of to-day ?" I will put it thus: The radical mis-
chief with our religious life at the moment is, without doubt,
an unspiritual externalism. Religion has become too much of
a convention and form, and the multitude who come to reli- .
gion at all, rely too much upon the performance of external
acts and cultivate too little the spiritual sense. It is with us
as with the multitude in St. Francis' day. Men are too easily
content with the externals; and religion is too much a matter
of buying an easy conscience with the coin of certain external
acts of worship, or service, without feeding their souls upon
the hidden realities — the great tnysteries of the Christian life.
It is the body of religion without its soul ; that is the canker
at the root of modern Christendom, to which in no small
measure is due the growing atheism or religious indifference
of the young generation.
What our religion most needs to-day is just that element
which St. Francis revived so marvelously in his own day — the
sense of the living Christ as the Lord of all life, the sense
of his operation in the visible Church, the sense of our im-
mediate relationship with him. To the multitude Christ is the
Christ who lived and died ; hardly the Christ who lives. We
need to knit all our religious exercises and forms more closely
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314 St. Francis and Modern Society [June.
with the consciousness of his presence amongst us, whether in
the sacramental life of the Church or in the ordinary life of
the world ; for " the earth is his and the fullness thereof."
The sense of discipleship — of our immediate dependence
upon him — needs to be more cultivated. And this dependence
must be one not only or chiefly of external acts, but a de-
pendence of spirit — the informing of our spirit with the spirit
of Christ. Whatever conduct flows from this informing of a
man's spirit with the spirit of his Lord is Christian conduct;
unless informed by Christ's spirit our deeds may bear a resem-
blance to Christian conduct, but they lack the living force,
they are not the real thing, and serve but to delude the un-
spiritual. To bring to an unspiritual generation the "life in
Christ," to make Christ live as the informing principle in the
individual and in society — that is the Franciscan mission.
And the way to this is by the Gospel of Holy Poverty, by
that indifference to and detachment from material possessions—
that poverty of the senses — which Christ taught so unmistak-
ably in his life and words, and by that meekness and humility
— that poverty of the will — in which Christ came to his own
creatures, ''making himself the servant of all."
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NARCISSUS.
BY JEANIE DRAKE.
•Author of In Old St. Stephen's, The Metropolitans, etc., etc.
Chapter IV.
[ES, Madame; yes, Mademoiselle/' said Jeanneton,
standing with her broad hands on her massive
hips, and the flaps of her cap boldly erect, "it
is as I tell you. That miserable Pedro must
come over the mountain to be a Moor. Nom de
Dieu ! When there were plenty of honest lads here to make
an army without him. But he must always be making mis-
chief; and if Nicolette did use to coquet a little with him, is
that a reason ? For she is really a good girl — well raised, too,
by those dear nuns, and all her heart is devoted now to £t-
ienne. But that Idche obtained, who can say how" — with a
shrug — ''the bunch of bluets which Mademoiselle left in the
vase; and when Nicolette came for them they were gone.
Etienne, to whom they were promised, as you know, sees them
in Pedro's turban — thinks Nicolette has given them to him —
rushes to snatch them out — they fight with fury, as you saw,
and when that dog of a Pedro," waxing warm, '' finds he can-
not overcome — what t[ does he do but out with a dagger, ma
foil and sticks it in the poor lad's shoulder, who has to be
carried home. And what will be the end ? " lowering her voice
with true French enjoyment of a little bit of tragedy. "Why,
if Etienne dies of his wound, Nicolette will die of a broken
heart, and they will guillotine Pedro, and — "
"But, Jeanneton," cried Will, interrupting these cheerful
prognostications, "the thing is impossible! For though the
fight may have occurred — and we saw something that looked
very like it — would Nicolette have stayed looking on to the
last if Etienne had been taken home hurt ? "
"Ah, la pauvre fillette I " said Jeanneton, "it was the bunch
of bluets which was to distinguish Etienne ; for they all look
much alike, those militaires, with the black saucepans on their
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3i6 NARCISSUS [June,
heads, you know. And what with the crowd of them gallop-
ing like mad — so they tell me — and the noise, she did not no-
tice their fight, and heard nothing about it until afterwards."
''That is likely enough," asserted Philip, "but why should
a bunch of corn-flowers distinguish any one ? Are they not
very common about here ? "
" Ours are a particular shade of blue," said Marjorie.
"They call it the bluet de Rochefort. That is why Nicolette
wanted them so much. But how in the world did Pedro man-
age to get them ? Why, Jack, how guilty you look ! Surely,
you did not give them to him ! "
"Well, upon my honor, Marjorie," completely subdued for
once, " I did not mean the least harm. I thought it would be
a good joke for Nicolette not to find them when she came;
and then Pedro joined me when I was riding to church and
asked me for the flowers, and I gave them to him ; and I
suppose he told Etienne a lot of lies about them."
" No doubt ; and / suppose," with extreme severity, " that
you would have thought it a capital joke if he had killed Et-
ienne."
" Well, I am not quite a cannibal, yet," he muttered, some-
what nettled, " but you know, Marjorie," with a return of peni-
tence, "if I can help you fix things straight^ I will."
Here Pierre's shock head was put inside the door, while
he announced that "Nicolette was outside and desired to see
Mademoiselle"; and he likewise volunteered the information
that she was " crying quarts ! "
" Bring her in here," said Marjorie. " No, stay, there are
too many. I will go to her."
Near the fountain in the courtyard stood Nicolette, and
though she was by no means weeping with the abandonment
ascribed to her by the sensational Pierre, her face bore signs
of real and recent grief.
"Why, Nicolette," said Marjorie, hurrying to her, "what
is it? Is Etienne badly hurt?"
"No, Mademoiselle; it is not that, though it grieves my
heart that he should be hurt at all. The wound is but slight^
as Monsieur le midecin says that the dagger glanced off from
the bone, and he is only weak from loss of blood. But, oh.
Mademoiselle ! " said the poor girl piteously, her eyes filling
with tears, " he blames me for it all ; and says that even if I
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did not give the flowers, I must have seen Pedro somewhere
lately or let him visit me, for that he boasted while they were
fighting that I liked him best and only pretended to care for
Etienne. And when I went to ask for Etienne this morning,
his mother scolded me, and even shut the door in my face.
And" — ^with a great sob — "he lei her, for I saw his head at
the window,"
" It was too bad," declared Marjorie indignantly, and thought
in her secret soul how she would treat Etienne if she were
Nicolette.
"And you know. Mademoiselle," went on Nicolette, "that
now it is Etienne and his mother who are angry; but if my
father should hear of the way they have done — I am his all,
and he is very obstinate — he would not even let me speak to
Etienne again."
Marjorie thought this very likely, as she knew Maitre S^-
bastien at the mill, and had had some little experience of his
ways. "I suppose," she said musingly, "that you could not
like Pedro? No"; hastily, seeing the look of amazement in
Nicolette's eyes fixed on her, " of course not, what was I
thinking of? Well, Nicolette, I will go down to Etienne this
morning, and see what I can do. And my cousin Jack will
tell him about the corn-flowers; and to-morrow, who knows,"
cheerily, " he will be begging your pardon for the way he has
treated you."
" Oh, Mademoiselle, you are so good ! " exclaimed Nico-
lette, brightening up a little, and she went off presently com-
paratively happy.
"What cheer, boys?" inquired Jack as Marjorie returned
to them.
"Pretty bad. Etienne's wound amounts to little; but he is
angry with Nicolette, and we must try to make it up. I am go-
ing down now to see him," busily tying on her wide garden hat.
" I must go too," said Jack with decision," as I was partly
the cause of this anguish."
"And Marjorie," urged Will, " you had better take me, for
the expression of my countenance is so mild and benignant
and persuasive that you will And me of immense assistance as
a peacemaker."
"Miss Fleming, I am sure you will need me to — to carry
your parasol."
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'' Three escorts would be an embarrassment of riches/' said
Marjorie. ** So, Will, as I do not find your reason for going
as convincing as Mr. Carhart's, we will leave you to your dear
Thackeray."
"Very well," resignedly throwing himself into the sunny
window-seat. "I pity your taste, but my fate has its allevia-
tions," taking up his book. " And, Philip, you will think so
too, when you come home footsore and weary after being
dragged to see the lame and the halt and the blind for miles
around."
" I think I can endure it in Miss Fleming's company," hand-
ing her down the steps.
The way to Etienne's, or rather his father's pottery, lay
downward across the fields, all rich now with the gay little
flowers of spring. The sun was well up in the heavens and
made dazzling the old white walls on the hillsides and the cot-
tages scattered here and there along the different roads to
town, and down below the flowing river sparkled as if it were
made up entirely of thousands of flashing jewels. " Sur le pent
d'Avignon^^ whistled Jack ahead, switching off the tops of the
clover and the daisies as he went.
" It was fitting," said Philip, " to call this * fair France,' and
one is not surprised at Mary Stuart's regret in losing it."
" Yes," sighed Marjorie, " I already dread the thought of
leaving it."
But now the air grew murkier and the sun obscured, and
they were fairly within the potters' smoky precincts.
" It is as much as one's dress is worth to venture here," said
Marjorie, "except on Sundays, or jours de fete.**
They passed the enclosure where the potter's men were
busied with the furnaces, and went round to the front of the
house. Jack tapped at a door, which was opened by Etienne's
mother, a stout, comely woman, who smiled on seeing la petite
demoiselle^ and asked them in. Philip preferred to loiter out-
side and gaze curiously around ; but Marjorie and Jack went
in to Etienne. They found him sitting up and dressed, though
very pale and with a coat thrown over the bandaged shoulder.
"We were so sorry, Etienne," said Marjorie, gently — "no^
don't rise — to hear of your accident. How is the shoulder
now ? "
" The shoulder does well enough. But, well or ill, it is al-
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ways a pleasure to see la belle demoiselle^** replied Eticnne, gal-
lantly. *^ Monsieur le medecin says I will be all right in a day
or two. But if it had been a pin-prick," fiercely, " it would
have been too much to bear from that bourreau — that assassin ! **
And he began to tremble all over his stalwart frame with
passion. " To think that he should dare to come and boast
to my face that she liked him ! "
"But you did not believe that, Etienne?"
"And you know, Etienne," broke in Jack, *'that it was I
who gave him the bluets, and that Nicolette was disappointed
not to find them at the chateau for you."
"Yes, I know," said Etienne indifferently, "and that was
a pity. But he would not have presumed to say he had been
to see her several times lately if it were not true."
"Oh, Etienne," began Marjorie, but his mother came to the
door and made signs that he had talked enough in his fever-
ish condition.
"Well, all I can say is," said Jack rising, "that if he has
told you as many lies as he has me, I am astonished you be-
lieve one word that he says. Why, did he not tell me yester-
day that he had been at Toulouse all last month buying goods,
that he was only here for one day, and that he meant to go
to St. Gaudens to-morrow and look at the place of that rich
seed-merchant there, with an idea of marrying his daughter —
all of which I knew was false."
"He is a liar all through," agreed Etienne, looking half-
convinced. " You know. Mademoiselle, it was hard to have
this happen just now, for old Sebastien had promised that the
wedding should take place at the St. John's feast; and I had
meant to try for a prize for my tiles at the Exposition to give
Nicolette for a wedding gift."
" And why should you not yet ? " cried Marjorie. " I
would not let fifty Pedros make me give up a giil so sweet
and pretty and good as Nicolette."
Artful Marjorie watched Etienne's eyes brighten at his sweet-
heart's praises ; lind now, judiciously leaving the subject, she
called Philip in and asked to look at the wonderful tiles if they
were not yet packed up. Etienne would have them brought
to him that he might explain them to Mademoiselle and the
gentlemen.
"This, you see, is our Lady of Lourdes as she appeared to
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320 Narcissus [June,
Bernadette; and this is -St. Vidian at the fountain; here is
the market girl who counted her chickens before they were
hatched ; and here are cows in the pasture field ; this is the
brave Roland fighting a dragon " ; and so on through a great
variety of subjects.
"They are wonderfully pretty/' said Marjorie.
" These fruit and flower pieces," declared Philip with truth,
examining some of them closely, '' show great artistic feeling
and skill. Did you design them all yourself ? "
"Every bit, Monsieur," said Etienne proudly; and his heart
was so softened that when the visitors with kind wishes for
his recovery prepared to leave, he called Marjorie back to
whisper sheepishly : " Mademoiselle, if you would be so good,
you might say to Nicolette that if she would come and see me
I should be glad."
'' How can I do that, Etienne," with great apparent grav-
ity and secret joy, '* when she was treated so badly here this
morning ? "
"Oh, well, if" — with increased embarrassment — "if Made-
moiselle would have the kindness to say that I was sorry —
that I did not then know that— that— "
"We will see about it," said Marjorie oracularly, as she
went out of the door.
Jack strolled off with his hands in his pockets to look at
the furnaces, remarking courteously that they might take care
of themselves.
" He means, I suppose, that I may take care of you, which
I will certainly try to do," said Philip to his companion.
"Is it not delightful," she cried, lifting her fresh, young
face to look at him, " to think that we have been successful in
our mission ? "
" It is certainly generous of you to call it ' we,' " he an-
swered, laughing.
" Now," she went on, " we must go and tell Nicolette ; and
find out what Maitre S^bastien thinks about it all."
"Whither thou goest will I go," responded Philip, with
that look and manner which always seemed to mean so much
more than he really felt.
Across the fields again now, but quite away from the pot-
teries, and out of their dim atmosphere, down to the river
banks. A turn to the right and a few minutes' walk along a
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picturesque path, with the Garonne flowing swiftly close at
their side, and they came in sight of the old mill. Its great
wheel moved slowly round, lifting the foamy water high in
sunshine, then dashing it down again as if in scorn. A big
dog ran out and barked at them, then retreated slowly, seeing
honesty apparently written on their faces. In the storehouse
stood the miller among his bags of grain. He came out at
once to meet them, with the flour dust all over his gray suit
and stockings and cap and in his hair and eyes.
'' Ah, Mademoiselle," he called heartily, ** you look like a
spring daisy yourself this morning ''; for Marjorie was a prime
favorite with him. On this, Nicolette peeped out from an
upper window, then ran lightly down to question Marjorie
with her looks.
"We have been to see that poor Etienne, Maitre S^bastien,"
said the young lady. "Was not that a villainous trick of
Pedro's?'*
" It was, indeed," said the miller. **Nom de Dieu / if I
could but get my hands on him ! " holding out a brawny fist
for every one's inspection.
" I fancy that Etienne does not mind the wound so much/'
continued Marjorie craftily; "it is the delay with his tiles.
For, you know, he meant to have a prize as Nicolette's wed-
ding gift."
Is was quite a treat to see Nicolette's eyes shine at this.
"Hum, yes"; said the miller, "and my stlly girl has been
fretting all to-day as if Etienne were killed." Quite uncon-
scious, good man, that his daughter had had any trouble but
her lover's hurt.
" If you could make a little time to see him this afternoon,
Maitre Sebastien," suggested Marjorie, " I am sure he would
take it kindly. He is quite pining to see some of you," with
an expressive look at Nicolette.
" I will inquire for the boy," said the miller ; and then they
took their leave, Marjorie whispering Etienne's message to Ni-
colette, but advising her to defer the visit for a day, that he
might be properly eager.
"They should make you diplomat at one of the courts,"
said Philip with gravity, when they were again on the road.
" It is a shame that such talents should be hidden in a private
sphere."
VOL. Lxxxiii.— 21
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322 Narcissus [June^
" I agree with you," answered she laughing, " I think I
have done beautifully to day. But " — with sudden politeness
— "you have helped too."
" Immensely ; I know it/' with imperturbable calmness. ^* I
have stood and looked on. I have always thought my strong
point, like Mr. Turveydrop's, was * Deportment.' "
"And" — ^saucily — "are you like him 'using your little arts '
to polish — me ? Ah, here comes Monsieur le Cur^," as a
benevolent- looking elderly man in a soutane, reading a small
book, nearly fell over them. " Pardon, ma fille^^ said he, clos-
ing the book ; and " Bon Jour, mon pere,** she answered, and
introduced Philip — " A stranger and wishing to see ruins and
relics of the Roman and of the feudal times."
The good cure was interested at once. "You should take
him, ma fille, to St. Martory and to that Roman villa which is
but five miles from here. But, helas, all the bronzes have been
sent to Toulouse. However, here among us are still Moorish
ruins and remains of the Robber- Knights. Oh, yes ; Martres
is rich in all that." Then raising his bonnet carri, with a cour-
teous invitation to Philip to come and visit him, he passed on
ta resume the reading of his office.
"Now," said Marjorie, "come, let us hurry. Auntie will
think we are lost, and they must be waiting dinner for us."
They climbed quickly up their hill again, and was not its-
steepness a reason for taking her hand in his and holding it
all the way ? "A mere passing politeness," he thought coolly.
When they reached the brow of the declivity they turned.
Down beneath a wondrous panorama was spread out before
them. The gorgeous background of high mountain peaks shin-
ing crystalline; the smiling valley and clear flowing river; the
sunny air and green, terraced hills; all seemed to say that a
man might well rest contented in such a spot, take some sweet
woman to his heart, and give up all else for their common
good, " counting the world well lost." If he should speak thus
to this slim maiden at his side, in summer raiment, with her
flushed cheeks and pure soul shining in her soft brown eyes \
Bah, in another instant he could have laughed contemptuously
at the momentary poetic folly. As if, when his reason resumed
the even, selfish tenor of its way, such nonsense could count
against a man's ambition, his advancement, his career!
"It is, as you said. Miss Fleming, very late," gently; but
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what spell there was, was broken by his voice, and they were
soon at the chateau.
** Upon my word," complained Will, " you might have been
on a voyage to the moon from the time you stayed."
** And what have you done with Jack ? " asked Mrs. Flem-
ing; "and how has your peace-making ended, my dear?"
" I hope," responded Marjorie blithely, " that it will end in
a peal of wedding bells."
Chapter V.
" * When you go to France,
You'd better learn the lingo;
If you don't — like me.
You will repent, by jingo ! '
or words to that efifect," cried Jack, desperately.
"What's the matter, now?" inquired his brother. "Has
Pierre brought you the toasting-fork instead of the boot- jack;
or have you been pommelled by some youthful villager who
has misunderstood your French of Stratford- atte- Bowe ?"
"Worse," said Jack emphatically. "I cannot, make that
stupid driver comprehend that we have hired his vehicle for
the day, and not himself. I have told him that we do not de-
sire his company; should prefer him to leave; don't want him
at any price, in fact; but to all my remarks he returns some-
thing that sounds like: ' Whee^ Moshoo* and sits there, immov-
able. I fancy if I pitch him off, he might feel some delicacy
in letting us have his old rattletrap at all, eh?"
" Dear me," said Marjorie, " we cannot have him. There is
no room, and we do not want him, anyhow. Does he speak a
worse pdtois than most ? Let Jeanneton try him."
The effect of this measure was soon seen, for, after an ani-
mated colloquy of a few minutes, the man tumbled down heav-
ily from his perch; and after delivering some solemn counsel to
Will on the care of the two skinny horses, not one word of
which was understood, he took himself off.
" He comes from B^ziers, and they do not speak well there,"
explained Jeanneton, with an air of superiority.
Mrs. Fleming, upon a survey of the vehicle, announced her
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324 Narcissus [June,
intention of remaining " safely " at home. *' Now, Mrs. Flem-
ing!" and "Oh, Auntie!" and even Will's "Come, Mother,"
and Jack's patronizing " / will be responsible for bringing you
back whole," produced no effect, unless, as she said, the last
confirmed her resolution, for she " knew Jack's tender mercies of
old."
" Madame is right," approved Jeanneton, with an emphatic
nod, which set her cap fluttering, " and I will take care of her
at home. It is for foolish youth to go climbing mountains
and falling into rivers and breaking every bone in their bod-
ies — and calling it pleasure ! "
" Dame ! That is a cheerful picture 1 " cried Jack, bursting
into laughter. " Then, why do not you go with us, Jeanneton,
you gay young thing ? " pulling at her cap strings.
" Mauvais sujet^*^ she muttered, breaking away from him in
wrath prefended, for the teasing boy was her delight.
"Now, Mr. Carhart," called Marjorie in her clear voice,
"come. This is your day, you know. It is for you we are
going to hunt up these Roman antiquities, so you must have
first choice in everything. Where will you sit ? "
" If I may choose, I will take the back seat, and — will you
allow me ? " handing her up to the place beside his own.
"This is equal to a performance on the trapeze," commented
Jack, scrambling into his seat. "Why, I declare, it is higher
than any dog- cart I have ever been in. Marjorie, if I should
fall from this height sublime into one of these crockery lanes
and sever my jugular vein, will you write me a pretty obitu*
ary? That's a good girl, Jeanneton, put in plenty of sand-
wiches. Roman antiquities are all well and good, but sand-
wiches and claret are better. Now, a red-hot poker to touch
up our spirited steeds and we shall be all right."
" Ready," said Will, gathering up the reins, and they were
off, with a pretence of parting tears from Jack and wild kisses
thrown to his mother, to Jeanneton, and even to Pierre stand-
ing open-mouthed at the gate.
"Why could not Nicolette go with us to-day, Marjorie?"
asked Will, "she can tell so many pretty stories about every
place around here."
"Well, I think it was because Etienne could not come; for,
though his shoulder is nearly quite well since last week, it
M not bear jolting over these roads."
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** I could tell you some prime stories, myself/' observed
Jack with complacency, ** though not about Martres, perhaps.
Mr. Carhart, did you ever hear the story of Zin Zindori?
or that one about the man in the theatre, who thought he
recognized another man, and asked a third man to poke the
second man, and when the second man turned, the first man
found it wasn't the man he thought it was and pretended he
didn't see him ; and when the third man asked in a fury :
'What did you make me poke that man for?' the first man
said very sweetly : ' I just wanted to see if you would poke
him'?"
"Yes," said Philip calmly, *'and I have heard of a youth
whom his friends took with them on an excursion, and found
it necessary, for reasons of their own, to chloroform him; and
he was brought home " — impressively — " in the empty luncheon
basket"
" I hope he ate all the sandwiches first," said Jack flip-
pantly.
Now the influence of their high spirits, or the scenery, or
t^e bright sunshine, or all together entered into their bony
steeds, and they came out amazingly, going along at a rattling
pace, under Will's persuasion, over the road to St. Martory.
"You may steady yourself by my coat-tail, Marjorie," Jack
told her; "but gently, you know."
"Best take my arm. Miss Fleming, "suggested Philip
"There, see — you will go over that wheel."
She hesitated, but ended by doing it ; for, as Will began to
notice with a pang, she almost always did do what Philip
asked her.
Country people kept passing them in their ox and mule
carts, with greetings polite and pleasant, if sometimes a little
unintelligible. Here and there by the roadside stood a cross
or little shrine of the Blessed Virgin, with flowers placed and
generally one or two kneeling flgures staying for a moment's
devotion before going on their way. A winding turn brought
them in sight of the towers of St. Martory.
"Do not look down now," recommended Will, "until we
reach the top of the hill where we get out; then we will have
the whole view at once."
The wisdom of this was apparent when at length they reached
the high plateau and had tumbled from their perch. " Oh, it
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326 NARCISSUS [June,
is heavenly ! " sighed Marjorie in a rapture. Far oflf stood the
mountains that enclose the lovely valley of Aure and Campan;
still farther, the tops of the Pic du Midi and the whole of the
mighty chain stretching across the continent from sea to sea.
Down below was an immense plain, verdant and smiling, said
to be the bed of the lake where the waters of the Neste and
the Garonne once mingled together. On the other side stood
the remains of a feudal tower and a village dating from the
fourth century, called Valentine after Valentinian II., assassin-
ated here in Gaul in 392. And on that side the valley was
so exquisite, with its clear mountain streams and harmonious
outlines, that the very mountain-tops seemed clustered together
here to gaze down at it and admire its freshness and beauty.
''The most interesting ruins are on this side," said Will,
''but before we can go exploring, these beasts must be taken
out of the — the voiture^ by courtesy, and given a feed. Come
and help me. Jack."
" I perceive," said Marjorie, turning with a smile, to en-
counter Philip's admiring gaze, "that you are not making fran-
tic offers of help."
" Why should I, when the alternative is to stay with you ?
Could not you and I" — persuasively — "go off and find that
villa for ourselves?"
"And" — hesitantly — "leave the boys here doing the work?
Oh, no"; summoning resolution, "that would be too selfish."
Then blushed hotly, as seeing what this implied. A little
breeze came and lifted the soft rings of hair from her cheeks
and forehead.
" Oh, gentle wind," said Philip :
" * Oh, gentle wind that bloweth south,
To where my love repaireth,
Convey a kiss to her dear mouth.
And tell me how she fareth.' "
"That is pretty enough," said Marjorie quietly, "to sound
very much like the old Provenfaux.*'
" Come on," cried Will, now leading the way, "we can come
back here to lunch, and in the meantime the horses will be
happy, for I am sure from their looks they have never seen
much hay at one time in all their lives before."
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I906.] NARCISSUS
They trod a little foot-path, overg
places, and in a few moments stood
and ruins of what must have been i
nificent villa.
"There ought to be a door some
lower story/' said Will, passing arc
here," pushing it open, "take care,
steps. Now this place," he continue
low so far down, "was discovered oi
by a man digging in the field. At
one day we came here together. Beh
tuous apartments paved with mosaic
and bas-reliefs ; superb bathing rooms
pipes, and every convenience that R<
But, tant pis, said the cur^, they hav<
able to the museum at Toulouse. O
emperors and empresses ; a marble n
medallions of Jupiter, Juno, Minerva
eral bas-reliefs and bronzes, and lots
"Well, I don't like it down here
is damp and — and earthy, and I am
"Stay, my child," declaimed Jac
^'Stay" — pompously — "I have valus
yet to impart."
"Well, impart them in the open
ascent, while he followed her, explaii
these damp rooms were well aired
Romans liked their handsomest apart
coolness, you know, in the summer ;
Philip and Will lingered to try
ness some inscriptions on the bits <
maining, and to admire the perfect
regarded taste and comfort.
"Now we will go and see the
will interest you more," said Will, \
side.
"Oh, I am interested. Will," sai<
^'I have been wondering and won<
standing here, to whom this villa
kind of a man he was, and if he was
happy together in those days so Ion
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"Why, tenderheart," said Will, with a wonderfully kind
laugh, ''would it trouble you to know that they were unhappy?'*
"Yes"; slowly, "I believe it would."
" Then set your mind at rest, for I will show you evidence
to the contrary."
" Have you ever observed. Will," asked Philip, as they
strolled on, "how hard it is to interest a woman in a matter
from a historical or archaeological point of view; yet, how she
is all sympathy where sentiment is concerned ? "
" It is not that," said Marjorie with some little heat ; " it
is that we do not care for the gaunt skeleton of facts of which
you are all so fond; we want them dressed in flesh and color
and raiment, warm and lifelike."
"We must have the skeleton to build on," said he; but
she pretended not to hear him.
The church was situated close to the border of what had
probably been the confines of the pleasure-grounds belonging
to the villa, but in a hollow. There had been an attempt made
at keeping it in preservation, as it was still used as a chapel
by the inhabitants of the neighboring valleys; but great gaps
showed everywhere between the dark stones of the walls, partly
covered with overhanging masses of ivy and moss; and the
little birds had built their nests in the crevices and now flew
in and out, twittering at being disturbed.
"See, Marjorie," said Will, showing her the sculptured head
of a Roman senator standing on a broken pedestal near the
corner of the church, and beside it a marble urn, quite empty
now. "Let us go inside and find some account of him, this
man who lived in the villa long ago." They crossed the damp
and slimy pavement of the church, over to where rays of light
streamed from a window on a marble tablet set in the wall,
with a date of the fourth century. "Translate, Philip," said
Will, and Philip read aloud :
" Nymphius, whose limbs are cold and stiff in eternal sleep,
reposes here. His soul is in heaven. It contemplates the stars,
while his body is left to the repose of the tomb. His faith
dispelled the darkness that seemed to envelop it. Oh, Nym-
phius, the renown of thy virtues raised thee to the very stars
and placed thee in the zenith. Thou art immortal and thy
glory will be perpetuated in ages to come. The province
honors thee as its father. The entire population made vows
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For the preservation of thy life. At the celebration of the
;ames due to thy munificence^ the spectators on the grada-
tions of the arena testified their joy by acclamation. Once
thy beloved country, at thy command, assembled its magis-
trates and spoke worthily by thy lips. Now our cities, de-
prived of thee, are plunged in mourning and the senators in
:onsternation are incapable of action. They are like the human
body, that, deprived of its head, falls lifeless and inert; or a
lock without its shepherd that knows not which way to direct
ts steps. Serena, thy spouse, abandoned to grief, erects this
monument to thee, and finds in this pious duty a slight solace
to her pain. Thy companion for eight lustres, she only thought
md acted by thee. At thy side life seemed sweet. Now,
ibandoned to her sorrow, she sighs for the eternal life, hoping
that which she now possesses may be brief."
Marjorie had listened to this with lashes lying low on her
::heek ; and only raised them now to show her eyes darker from
feeling, and to say almost in a whisper: ''It was a beautiful
ife. Virtuous, honored by friends and companions, his loss
ieplored, and, above all, Serena to love him in life and mourn
tiim after death."
"I am not sure," said Philip lightly, "that the last was a
necessary ingredient in his cup. What does a man want with
roses when he may wear a laurel wreath ! A too affectionate
Serena might prove a bore."
" I agree with you, Marjorie," said Will, " Serena was best
of all."
"Fourteen hundred years ago!" cried Jack's boyish voice
breaking in on them. "Well, Nymphius, I mean you no dis-
respect, but I should con — sid — e — ra — bly rather be a live —
ahem ! — canine quadruped, than a dead lion. Marjorie," with
gravity, "I fancy Serena was my ideal woman, very tall and
dark and magnificent you know."
" Bah ! " said she, with a laugh, " Have babies ideals ? "
" Madam, I would have you to know," bellowed Jack threat-
eningly, then sinking his voice to softest caressing, " that there
is lunch awaiting us somewhere and that I am faint with hunger,"
and marched her resolutely off.
Sandwiches and merry talk, and sunshine and claret cup,
and green trees waving overhead, and wondrous effects of light
and shadow playing over the landscape, and gladsome songs
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330 NARCISSUS [Jane,
and more gladsome laughter — surely these will banish, for a while
at least, the vague unrest of youth's first love, or even pangs
of awakened jealousy nobly resisted.
" Let us drink to the memory of the dead Serena," cried
Jack, waving hfs glass. "And do not forget the very much
alive Jeanneton," attacking the sandwiches with renewed fury.
" Now would be the time for Nicolette's legends," continued
he. *' I know a sort of a one, myself " — modestly — " about St.
Martory and a leper."
" I will not listen," said his brother firmly, " to any more
local miracles. The people here tell nothing else."
" Very well then " — resignedly — " make your own traditions,
my son."
" I can see whole hosts of stories, beautiful stories in Mar-
jorie's — Miss Fleming's — eyes," said Philip; and was rewarded
for the apparently accidental slip by seeing her pretty color
rise.
"I can make you one," she said, leaning back against the
trunk of a tree, the shadows of its leaves playing over her up-
turned face and summer robe. '* Let me see " — musingly —
"oh, yes; it is about a knight — two knights — and a lady. She
was the fair Beatrix and she was betrothed to Count Louis,
who lived in that turreted castle over yonder among the hills.
But Raimond de Toulouse had organized another crusade, and
her lover had gone away with him to fight the heathen. Well,
the weary days and nights rolled on, and she thought she would
make a pilgrimage for Count Louis' safety to the shrine of
Notre Dame du Bout du Puys. But when she was riding on
her return through the narrow defile, at the foot of the height
where her lover's castle was built, down came a band of ruf-
fians and seized herself and her retinue and carried them into
the tower, prisoners. It was the robber-knight Raimounet de
r£p^e, who had taken possession of Count Louis' house in
his absence. 'What would you have, Raimounet de I'^p^e?'
'Madam, your hand,' he replied boldly. 'Nay; that cannot
be, for you know well it is promised to Count Louis; but, if
treasure and jewels may content you, they shall be yours.'
' Fair women are enchanting ; but there is greater witchery in
gold,' avowed the free lance. So she sent to her castle for
the ransom; and when it came he laughed in her face and
told her he meant to keep both Jady and treasure. Then the
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o6.] Narcissus 331
>od of heroic ancestors stirred within her, and snatching up
Hreapon at hand she killed him. Just then in strode Count
uis and his followers from the Holy Land, travel-worn and
ary. 'What is this, Beatrix?' looking at the robber-knight's
id body. * Our farewell, Louis, for I can never give you a
id with the stain of blood upon it.' And deaf to all en-
aties, she went to a convent and prayed away her life; and
unt Louis went back to the wars and was killed fighting
• the Holy Sepulchre."
*' I don't call that much of a story," pronounced Jack po-
ily; ''I know a better one myself about a Countess Fetro-*
le somewhere near here, who used to make a pilgrimage to
ne shrine every time she lost one husband in order to pray
another. And she got six in that way, I tell you " — im-
jssively — " six, six ! "
••Dear me," laughed Marjorie, "I wonder what shrine that
s ? I should like to try it."
•• Ade\ ade^** sang Will and Philip, as they drove homeward
rough the evening air, uniting their voices in an old student
ag; *^ Ade\ oh wondrous valley, where my love and I have
;nt the golden hours. Parting cometh with the stars, adi^^ ;
d Marjorie listened in thrilled silence by Philip's side.
'•The day's events," Jack told his mother, "may be summed
in these few words : " Mr. Carhart was cool and calm and
Uected; Will talked like an old chronicle; Marjorie lost her
art to a dead stick of a Roman senator ; and I was the de-
;ht of every one — eh, Will?"
But Will was thinking of the look he had seen in Mar-
rie's eyes when she bade Philip "good-night."
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
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THE LOVE AND HUMILITY OF ST. FRANCIS.
BY COUNTESS DE LA WARR.
^HAT a halo of light burst over the far-famed
Hill City of Assisi when in 1182, in one of its
many palazzos, the most glorious of saints, St.
Francis, first saw the light. His parents were
\ of good birth, very wealthy, and gave their son
the best of education. In his early youth he gave no promise
of the glory of his future, for up to the age of twenty-four
his life was one of such wildness and dissipation that laments
for his birth would have been more fitting than rejoicing. He
frequented the worst and the most riotous entertainments, and
his companions were the most reckless. in the town. It could
not have been believed that the words he said one day in a
moment of hilarity: ''You will see that one day I shall be
adored by the whole world," would have come true; though
in a far different way than he meant, Francis then referring to
worldly admiration and fame; no idea of religion having en-
tered his mind.
In 1204 a grievous illness brought him to the brink of the
grave. As he slowly recovered, a great desire came upon him
to wander about, the environs of Assisi and study nature
quietly. One day when, with the help of his stick, he had
made his way to the Porta Nuova, one of the principal en-
trances to the city, the glorious view from it, although he had
often seen it before, suddenly enthralled him. The distant
view of Mount Sabinus, the lower hills with their slopes cov-
ered with oaks, pines, olives, and orange trees, the shining white
villages dotted about among them in all directions, the fertile
plains at his feet, the distant lake in whose calm surface beau-
tiful reflections gave enchantment to the view, the white fleecy
clouds casting shadows over the purple hills, caused sensations
that he had never before experienced to rise in his breast. The
utter smallness of human life, and its insignificance when corn-
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906.] THE LOVE AND HUMILITY Oh ST. FRANCIS 333
ared with the wonderful works of nature, came vividly before
im. He who was contemplating a return to his old ways,
uddenly felt a disgust with himself and his past life; and
rith tears in his •yes and bitterness in his heart he slowly
irned homewards with the weight of intense moral suffering
dded now to his bodily ones. Religion could not yet claim
im for herself, as Francis went through many struggles be-
>re separating himself from all in which he had so revelled,
^ne true friend he possessed, who had always tried to draw
im into the right path. This was Bombarino di Beriglia, who
Itimately became known as Father Elias, and was one of the
lost faithful followers of the Order. He watched with joy
le first signs of the change in Francis. During the latter's
3nvalescence, Bombarino was his daily companion in his walks
nd rambles, and be entered fully into the weakness of Francis'
lind. Little by little be induced Francis to separate himself
rom bad companions, and to bear in silence their scoffs and
Lughter, with which they overwhelmed him when they saw he
ras becoming lost to them. Francis replaced them by the
ir truer friends he found among the sick and poor, whom
e began to visit. But two years more elapsed before his
inversion really took place, and the cause that accomplished
occurred in Rome, where Francis had gone on a pilgrim-
One day during his stay there he found himself face to
Lce with a leper, who stretched out his arm to him and prayed
>r help. Francis, though he was accustomed to misery and
ckness, and was really trying to obey Cl^rist's command:
Follow thou me," felt, at the sight of the leper, such a re-
ulsion against him that he turned away ready to give up his
ew life. Suddenly the thought of what a coward he w^, and
ow unworthy to call himself a disciple of Christ, came over
im. A voice seemed to chide him for his weakness, and an
aseen hand drew him back to the leper, to whom he gave all
le money he had with him, knelt down and kissed his hand,
rancis took him to the Lepers' Hospital and announced his
itention of waiting on the poor patients himself. From that
\y Francis' heart was quite changed, and he devoted his
hole life, body and soul, to the worship and work of Christ,
eturning to Assisi from Rome his home was no longer his.
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334 THE LOVE AND HUMILITY OF ST. FRANCIS [June,
for his parents cast htm from them. He lodged among the
poor, wherever he could find a bed, he gave away all his fine
clothes, donned the habit of a friar, and amid the jests and
mockings of his former companions, walked up and down the
narrow streets of Assisi calling on the people to repent of
their sins and to begin a new life. Many thought he had
gone mad. Children threw stones at him calling out ^^ Pazzo^
Pazzo I " " Fool, Fool ! " He at last found a temporary shel-
ter in the small hermitage of St. Domenico, a chapel in the
suburbs of Assisi. It was but a poor place, in a secluded and
wild spot, hidden among olive trees and redolent with the
scent of lavender, rosemary, wild thyme, and orange and lemon
trees. A very poor priest lived there then and served the
chapel, which was falling into decay. Poor as he was, the priest
joyfully received Francis and shared with him his frugal fare.
Francis at once formed the determination to devote his time
and energy to collect money for the restoration of St. Domeni-
co, and also of the other sanctuaries round Assisi, that had
fallen into decay. Among them was that of St. Peter and Sta.
Maria of Porziuncola, called Sta. Maria degli Angeli. It was
one of those lovely spots rarely found in the world, of which
it can be said sky connects earth with heaven.
It is at Sta. Maria degli Angeli, far more than at Assist
itself, where the traditions of St. Francis' life appeal to one
the most forcibly. The spot is impregnated with his holy
presence. Go and sit there in the twilight hour and close
your eyes, drinking in the sweet scent of the mystic roses
which grow in the cloister, and whose leaves still bear the
stkin of blood which first appeared on them when the saint
lived there; sit there in peaceful solitude, and you will feel
a spelP being cast on you, and you will hear the gentle foot-
steps of the saint's sweet spirit near you. Then go and pray
fervently before the altar which he so loved and cherished.
When Francis first determined to settle at Sta. Maria, no
thought of founding an Order had entered into his soul; but
as time went by he felt a longing for a more extended life^
and a desire to do more active work in the Church.
The call came to him one day when he was assisting at
Mass in Sta. Maria, and he heard the words of Jesus : " Go ye
and preach to all nations, the Kingdom of God is at hand.
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)o6.] The Love and Humility of St. Francis 335
reely ye have received, freely give. Provide neither scrip
>r gold nor brass in your purses, nor two coats nor staves
3r staf!; for the laborer is worthy of his hire." Francis an-
irered: "This is what I want; this is what I am seeking,
rom this day forth, I shall set myself with all my strength
\ put it into practice.''
At once he proceeded to act on the decision. He gave
vay all the money he possessed and, casting aside his scrip,
loes, and staff, wore but a long brown tunic, with a girdle
)und his waist. He determined to carry out Christ's com-
tands to the letter, and from that day he began his wander-
igs through the country. One by one others joined him,
ather Bernard, Father Leo, and Father Elias being most de-
3ted and most faithful to him. Week by week, month by
lonth, and year by year, the Order increased in number, and
t. Francis sent its members to every part of the known world
> preach the Gospel and collect alms for the poor. His rules
)x the Order were few and simple — to give up all to others^
\ possess nothing themselves, to love all their fellow-creatures,
id to' be themselves full of charity and humility, ever look-
ig on themselves as the servants of all. '' Our life in the
lidst of the world," he said, " ought to be such that on hear-
ig or seeing us, any one should feel constrained to praise our
[eavenly Father. You proclaim peace, have it in your heart.
e not an occasion of wrath or scandal to any one, but by
3ur gentleness may all be led to peace, concord, and good
ork."
St. Francis loved all animals and birds, and they all under«
:ood him. Simply by the charm of his voice he tamed some
olves who were terrifying a hill- village. "Brother Wolves,"
e called them, beseeching them to cease their depredations,
id they obeyed him. Among birds he specially loved larks,
id he said of them: "Sister Lark has a hood like a religious,
ad is a humble bird, who goes by the way seeking a few
rains, and when she has found them, even amongst the dirt,
le picks them up and eats them." He often preached to birds,
ho would collect round him and even sit upon his shouU
ers. " My little sisters," he called them. At the time of his
eath great numbers of birds collected on the roof of the
ouse where he lay, singing softly and praising the Lord.
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336 THE LOVE AND HUMILITY OF ST. FRANCIS [June,
Water and stones, wood and flowers, all had his love; also the
sun, moon, and stars. If wood had to be cut down, Francis
always prayed the sawyer not to cut more than was necessary,
and not to injure the tree '' for the love of Jesus who hung on
the cross." He begged the gardener in planting a garden
always to reserve a portion of it for sweet-scented flowers, such
as roses, lilies of the valley, ^'so that these lovely flowers, in
the time of their blooming, might invite all men to praise him
who made all herbs and flowers.** For every creature cries
aloud: ''God has made me for thee, oh, man.''
The poor and sick ever flocked to him, and he often de-
nuded himself even of his tunic if he saw any one in need
of clothing; little children he loved and cherished as God's
angels. The keynote of his life was love, and no one who
came in contact with him could resist his sweetness and charm.
Alas! his career was but a short one, for four years after his
holy life had begun, grave illness came on him, and it was
with difliculty that the Brothers brought him to his beloved
Sta. Maria, where he desired to die. The multitude who flocked
to the neighborhood bore testimony to the love he had in-
spired, and great wailing and moaning burst forth when, on
Sunday, July 26, 1228, the beloved spirit of the blessed saint
flew back to the God he so loved.
Thus closed the earthly life of the holy man, but his in-
fluence on the human race has been unending, and there are
more Franciscans working for the honor and glory of God in
all parts of the world than of any other order, and the
mottoes of their life arc Love, Poverty, and Humility.
Thyself, dear Christ, hath borne great wounds of love.
Love made thee leave thy precious throne above.
And from a lowly maiden take thy birth.
And like a weary pilgrim tread this earth.
Urged on by love thou didst descend so low.
As through the world condemned by all to go.
In all thy work sweet love was ever shown.
It seemed as though thyself and love were one.
Within the temple thou, O Lord ! didst cry.
Let every one who yearns for love draw nigh ;
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I906.] THE LOVE AND HUMILITY OF ST. FRANCIS 337
*
Let all who love their burning thirst to slake,
Draw near to me and their refreshment take.
Into their hearts I'll pour love's wav^s so bright,
A boundless love shall seize them with delight.
What made thee heavy to the bitter wood ?
What made thee long to save us by thy blood?
At Pilate's throne what made thee silence keep?
What plunges thy soul in sorrow, oh, so deep?
'Twas love alone, oh, gentle, silent dove,
That e'en didst die upon a cross of love !
Oh, Jesus, Lord, thy wisdom was concealed.
Thy boundless love alone itself revealed.
Thy power divine was hidden out of sight.
For love, not strength, was summoned to the fight.
And while thy body hung upon the tree.
With fondest love man was caressed by thee.
— By St. Francis.
VOL. LXXXIII.— 22
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THE FRANCISCAN CENTENARY.
BY PASCHAL ROBINSON. O.F.M.
T a time when almost all manner of men are singu-
larly interested in the life-work and character of
St. Francis of Assisi, it is not surprising to learn
that widespread preparations are afoot abroad to
celebrate in a befitting manner the seventh cen-
tenary of the Saint^s conversion, which occurs during the latter
half of the present year. The International Committee formed
to take charge of these celebrations has deemed is most op-
portune to make an urgent appeal for the restoration of social
peace and the reign of Christian charity among men and na-
tions which St. Francis preached so successfully. To this end
a Peace Congress is to be held at Bologna, under the presi-
dency of Cardinal Svampa, and with the special blessing of the
Sovereign Pontiff, Pius X. Spain has united in the movement
by appointing a National Commission, headed by Cardinal
Vives y Tuto, and in other countries steps are being taken
to celebrate the centenary in an appropriate manner.
It is not, however, the purpose of this paper to deal with
these celebrations; that must be left to another chronicler.
It has to do rather with the event which they are intended
to commemorate. Conformably to the invitation of the Editor
of The Catholic World, I venture to describe, in briefest
outline, the circumstances attending the conversion of St. Francis
of Assisi, as they are recorded in the writings of those who
walked with him in the days of his flesh.
It might be well, perhaps, at the outset to recall that con-
version may mean different things to different persons. It does
not necessarily import the turning away from a life of open
sin. It may indeed mean that, and it often does, but it also,
and no less frequently, implies a turning towards a more per-
fect state of life. In the case of St. Francis, the biographers
are wont to speak of the time at which he turned to God by
a total abdication of the world as the time of his conversion.
That was in the year 1206. However, there are stages in the
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i9o6.] The Franciscan Centenary 339
way of good as in the way of evil. So in the conversion of
St. Francis we may distinguish several well-defined periods.
But because the work of conversion is, after all, largely a hid-
den process, it follows that the history of any conversion can
at best be but dimly traced.
Premising this, it is no doubt true, as a recent writer* has
remarked, that there seems to be a time in the life of every
serious soul when there is a special turning to God ; " when
the^oul realizes and grasps the beauty of religion, the great-
ness of goodness, the unsatisfying character of passing things,
and when God and eternity become to it the governing real-
ities." This turning-point, if I may so call it, appears, in the
case of Francis, to have been reached in or about his twenty-
second year.t With his life before that period I have, there-
fore, nothing whatever to say.
Suffice it to recall that, in 1202, Assisi was involved in war
with Perugia.^ It was one of those bitter communal feuds
which had so often made a desolate waste of the fair Umbrian
plain that lies between the two cities. Perugia had long sought
to place her hated rival under her griffin's claw. Now, at the
apogee of her power, she vanquished the Assisians. Although
details of the encounter are wanting, we know that Francis,
who had gone out to battle with his townsmen, was taken cap-
tive, and that he was confined in prison for a whole year. A
severe attack of fever, which followed upon his return to As-
sisi in November, 1203, appears to have first turned his thoughts
from the things of time to those of eternity. Witness this
precious incident of Francis' convalescence which his earliest
biographer, Thomas of Celano, has preserved for us: ''Being
somewhat stronger and able to walk about the house leaning
on a stick, in order to complete his restoration to health, he
one day went forth and with unusual eagerness gazed at the
vast extent of country which lay before him; yet neither the
* Canon Knox Little: St, Francis of Assisi. London: I sbister, 1904. Page 93.
t St. Francis was born in 1181 or 1182, and died on October 3, 1226, in the foity-fifth year of
Visage. On the chronology of his life see the splendid studies of P. Leo Patrem, O.F.M., in
^tOriente Sera/lco. Assisi, 1895.. Vol. VIL Nos. 4 to 12. They have been reprinted in the
MisceUanea Francescana. Foligno. Vol. IX. Pp. 76-104. See also P. Panfilo da Magliano,
O.F.M., Storia Compendiosa d% S. Francesco e dei Franciscana, Rome, 1874. Vol 1. C. i.
N.4.12.
t On the circumstances leading up to this conflict see Antonio Cristofani. Delle Storie
^Assist iUrisei, Assisi, 1875. Vol. I. Pp. 83-85; and Luigi Bonazzi, .S/tfria<///Vri(^fa. Pe-
lugia, 1875-79. Vol. L Pp. 257-322.
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340 THE FRANCISCAN CENTENARY [June,
charm of the vineyards, or of aught that is pleasant to look
on, was of any consolation to him." • Tradition points to the
Porta Nuova as the spot whence Francis looked out upon the
Umbrian country. Before him, in the valley, lay the winding
white road that leads past low- lying Foligno to Trevi on its
hilltop until, beyond Spoleto, it is lost amid the mountain
gorge ; on his left the bare shoulders of Mount Subasio rose
above the verdant slopes where the oak and the cedar mingle
with the olive and the vine; on his right in the plain the yel-
low corn was ripening, hard by the walls of the old brown roofed
towns, and the children had come forth to gather the fragrant
narcissus, t
Only those who have been privileged to stand where Fran-
cis stood in the limpid morning air, and to gaze upon that
same Umbrian landscape, with the grand spirit of old history
brooding over it all, may know how the spectator is taken in
the nets of a beauty which words cannot tell. Yet this sc«ne,
which had meant so much to Francis in the heyday of his
selfish strength, no longer awoke a responsive echo in bis heart.
On that spring morning, in 1204, the emptiness of the life be
had heretofore been leading came home to bim.l This sud-
den inward change marks, so to say, the first step towards bis
conversion.
But conversion, however sudden it may sometimes appear,
is in reality, as a rule, a slow and lengthy process. So, at
least, it appears to have been with Francis. His heart, in spite
of his illness and consequent disillusion, was still divided; he
had not yet learned to say Deus Mens et Omnia. Certain it
is that his former yearning for worldly glory reawakened with
returning health. Circumstances, moreover, seemed to favor
his aspirations. A knight of Assisi was about to set out to
join the army of Walter de Brienne — the "gentle count" as
he was called — who was just then fighting on the side of the
Papacy in Southern Italy. Francis resolved to accompany him,
and made preparations for the expedition with ostentatious
magnificence. But on the very eve of departure he saw in a
• Thomas de Celano, Legenda Prima, Cap. 2. N. 4. See the new and definitive edition
of Celano by Fr. Edouard d'Alen^on, O.F.M.Cap. Rome : Descl^e, 1906. Page 8.
fSee The Story of Assise, )Jy Lina Duff Gordon. London: Dent» 1901. P. 44.
t" Le vide lamentable de sa vie lui dtait tout ^ coup apparu; il ^tait effray^ de cette
solitude d'une grande 4me, dans la quelle iln'y a point d'autel." Sabatier, Vudt S, Franiois
d' Assise, Paris, 1894. P. 17. "
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I906.] THE FRANCISCAN CENTENARY 341
vision 2 stately palace filled with splendid shields and arms
and banners, all marked with the red cross and, as marveling
at the sight, be asked to whom these belonged, a voice an*-
swcred: "They are for thee and thy soldiers."
''I know that I shall be a great prince," Francis boasted
exultingly next morning as, amid the plaudits of his fellow-
citizens, he passed out of the city gate in the direction of
Apulia. His march, however, was not a long one. At Spoleto
he was overtaken by a second attack of fever. Then was the
time when the same voice said to him : " Francis, who can do
thee more good, the master or the servant?" "The master,"
answered Francis without hesitation. "Why, then," the voice
rej.oined, " dost thou leave the master for the servant, and the
prince for the retainer?" "Lord," exclaimed Francis, like
Saul on the road to Damascus, " what wilt thou have me to
do?" "Return to thine own country," replied the voice,
"there shalt thou be told what to do, for thou hast wrongly
interpreted the vision thou hast seen."*
Francis received this command with childlike faith and, with
the first glimpse of dawn, retraced his steps in haste to Assisi,
heedless of the chagrin of his parents and the gibes of his
companions. In this simple act of loving obedience the saint's
biographers discern what may be called the * second step in
his conversion. Withal many months were still to elapse be-
fore the full meaning of that vision came to him. For the
saints, unlike the poets, are not born, but made, and Celano
puts no gloss on the many difficulties Francis had yet to over-
come before bis conversion to the better life was complete.
Returning then to Assisi the tenor of Francis' life lay in
the ancient ways, at least to outward seeming, but inwardly a
change had come over him. He indeed sometimes joined in
the noisy revels of his old associates, but his manner told
plainly enough that his heart was no longer with them. Struck
by his altered mien at a banquet he had given for them, his
friends taunted him: "Perhaps." said one of them, "he is
thinking of taking a wife." "Yes"; replied Francis with a
strange smile, "I am thinking of taking a wife, nobler, richer,
and fairer than you can imagine."
By this reply Francis cut the last link tJiat bound him to
•See Legenda Trium Sociorum, Ed. Faloci. Foligno, 1898. Cap. 2. English transla-
tion by E. G. Salter, The Legend of the Three Companions^ London: Dent, 1902.
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342 THE Franciscan Centenary [June,
the world. Needless to say, it was of no earthly wife be spoke.
Rather was he thinking of that mystical spouse so long de-
spised by the world. Already was he enamored of that Lady
Poverty whom Dante no less than Giotto has wedded to his
name.*
Fearing, however, lest in his enthusiastic love of poverty for
Christ's sake he might be acting beyond his strength, Francis
made a pilgrimage to Rome to visit the tomb of the Apostles.
Pained to see how small were the offerings of the pilgrims for
the completion of St. Peter's, he emptied his purse on the mar-
ble tomb of the Fisherman. Then, going forth, he met a horde
of beggars on the steps of the basilica. This sight prompted
an experiment. Exchanging his clothes with the poorest of
the lot, he stood among them the entire day asking alms of
the passersby. This was in the autumn of 1205.
On his return to Assisi, Francis, wishing to try himself still
further, devoted his time to the service of the lepers. Any
one at all familiar with mediaeval history does not require to
be told how terrible and widespread a malady leprosy was at
this time Lazar houses were provided for the poor wretches
afflicted with his plague without most Italian cities,t and a
solemn and terrible service was prescribed for their banish-
ment from society.f ' " Like living corpses, in a gray gown
reaching down to the feet, and with the hood brought over
their face, they went about, carrying in their hands an enor-
mous rattle called St. Lazarus' rattle, with which they gave
notice of their approach, that every one might have time to
get out of their way."
Now leprosy had ever been to Francis' fastidious nature an
object of peculiar aversion; when, therefore, about this time,
he found himself all at once face to face with a leper, Francis,
unable to control a movement of repulsion, instinctively turned
his horse — for he was riding — in another direction. Hardly had
he done so than he was seized with remorse, and quickly re-
tracing his steps, and springing from the saddle, he not only
• The poet for his vivid allusion to their mystical marriage in Canto xi. of his Paradise, no
less than the painter for his unfading fresco at S. Francesco, drew his inspiration from the
Sacrum Compurci^m beati Francisci cum Domina Paupertaie, in which Francis' own tale of ihe
Lady Poverty has been expanded by one of his early followers. This most exquisite of medi-
neval idylls has been translated in a manner worthy of the original by Montgomery Car-
michael : The Lady Poverty. New York : Tennant & Ward, 1902.
t See Muratori, AntiquUates Italicee, I., 907.
tSee Martene, De Antiq, Eccl. Ritibus, III., 10. i
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I906.] THE FRANCISCAN CENTENARY 343
gave the leper all the money he had, but even insisted on kiss-
ing his loathsome hand. The victory he thus gained over self
was complete, and he was ever after wont to regard this act of
self-conquest as a special mark of God's converting grace.*
This meeting with the leper brought Francis to the parting
of the ways. But he was still at sea as to the purpose of bis
life. Not knowing what- path to take, he began to seek in
solitude and prayer enlightenment as to the true road for his
journey. Much of his time at this period was spent wander-
ing among the woodland slopes below Assisi. Far down the
hillside, without the southern boundary of the city, there was
a little chapel which was very dear and familiar to Francis.
S. Damiano is there still, half-hidden amid the pines and cy-
press trees, and the general appearance of the place in its
primitive simplicity must give the visitor a very just idea of
what it was when Francis came there to pray. While pouring
forth his soul here on a certain day, before one of those
painted Byzantine crucifixes still so numerous in Italy, Francis
heard with his bodily ears a voice proceeding from this cruci-
fix f saying thrice: "Francis, go and repair my house, which,
as thou seest, is utterly falling to ruin."
Failing at the moment to realize the full meaning of this
behest, and not unnaturally taking the words as a literal com-
mand to restore the half-ruined chapel in which he knelt,
Francis at once set about the work of repair. To obtain the
necessary funds — for his own purse was nearly empty — he went
to his father's shop, off the southeast corner of the Piazza,}
and taking some bales of costly stuffs, mounted his horse and
rode off to Foligno, then an important commercial centre.
Having there sold both merchandise and horse, he returned on
foot to S. Damiano — a three hours' walk — with the proceeds
of this "fortunate traffic." But when the poor old priest who
tended S. Damiano, dreading the anger of Francis' father, re-
♦ More than twenty years afterward, when on the eve of his death, he was casting a back-
ward glance over the ways by which he had been led, St. Francis wrote : '* The Lord gave to
me. Brother Francis, thus to begin to do penance ; for when I was in sin it seemed to me very
bitter to see lepers, and the Lord himself led me amongst them, and I showed mercy to them.
And when I left them, that which had seemed to me bitter was changed for me into sweetness
of body and soul." See Opuscula 5. P. Francisci Asiisiensis, Quaracchi, 1904. P. ^^, Eng-
lish translation. The Writingi of St. Francis. Philadelphia: The Dolphin Press, 1906. P. 81.
fThis very crucifix, old even then and still beautiful, may now be seen in the chapel of S.
Gcorgio, at Sta. Chiara. It was taken thither by the Poor Ladies, when they left S. Dami-
ano in 1260.
X The house and shop of Bernardone are still standing in the Via Portica.
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344 THE FRANCISCAN CENTENARY [June-
fused to accept the money, Francis threw it on a window-sill
of the chapel.
We are all probably more or less familiar with the sequel —
how Francis was obliged to hide from his father's rage in a
solitary cave for an entire month; how, on his return to the
city, he was hunted by the very children as a madmian ; how
he was haled to Bernardone's house, and there shut up in a
dark hole under the staircase; how his mother's anxiety for
his health, having released him from this carcere tenebroso, his
father, not content with having recovered the money at S«
Damiano, cited him before the consuls to forswear his inheri-
tance; and how Francis, having replied that he did not come
under their jurisdiction, was finally taken before the bishop.
Then followed that supreme act of renunciation, in which the
servant of God, stripping himself of all his clothes, laid them,
with what little money he still had, at the feet of his father
with these words: "Up to this hour I have called thee my
father on earth, from henceforth I may say confidently : ' Our
Father who art in heaven^ in whose hands I have laid up all
my treasures, all my trust, and all my hope." • The bishop,
moved to tears, covered the sublime nudity of Francis with
his own mantle until an old garment, which had been worn by
a farm hand in his service, was brought. Francis, having traced
a large cross on the garment with some mortar that was at
hand, clothed himself in it with joy and withdrew*
This extraordinary scene, which took place just outside the
Episcopal palace in the little Piazza Sta. Maria Maggiore, marks
the climax in that great spiritual crisis we call his conversion*
From that day, in the winter of 1206, the son of Pietro Ber-
nardone passes out of sight and "from the ashes of the dead
past, from the seed that has withered that the new life might
germinate and fructify," the Saint arises
Whose marvelous life were better sung
In heaven's glory, t
• See St. Bonaventure. Le£endaDu(B dt Vita SH, Franciscu Quaracchi, 1898. C. II.. 18. 19.
ao, or English translation by Miss Lockhart, Life of St, Francis. Washbourne, 1898. P. ai.
See also Wadding, Annates Minorium; De Francisci Conversione, 5., xxvi , xxvii., xxviii.
t Cestui la cui miradil vita me^iic in gloria del del si canterebbe, Dante, Paradiso, Canto
».. 95. 96.
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STUDIES ON FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE.
BY M. D. PETRE.
VI.
NIETZSCHE THE ANTI-CHRISTIAN.
' is with a certain reluctance that we approach, in
this last of our essays, the study of Nietzsche's
an ti- Christian views and teaching. Maintainirg,
as we have done throughout, that it is as use-
less as it is unjust to approach any thinker for
the mere purpose of what is called refutation; that the worst
elements of any philosophy should be corrected by the best
which itself contains; it is the more difHcult to deal with
Nietzsche's doctrine on the subject of Christianity, one en
which he displayed his most unsatisfactory qualities in the in-
tellectual as in the moral order. The Anti- Christy one of his
best known, but least meritoiious works, is a conspicuous ex-
ample of Nietzsche in his violent and unjudicial phase. Here
and there we note, indeed, strokes of the old power and orig-
inality, but the greater part is tainted with his worst defects
of violence, prejudice, and fatuous self-esteem, and there are
unmistakable symptoms of the fatal disease which was making
its way with that brilliant mind. His sister mentions the fact
that he was suffering much at this time from over-excitation,
due to the abuse of drugs, and one almost regrets that some
of this later work was preserved, in its crude condition, to
lessen the influence of his earlier productions. However, all
is now done beyond recall, and it unfortunately happens that
this particular work is one of the most widely translated and
the best kno\yn.
We will, however, not allow ourselves to be thereby turned
away from the plan hitherto followed. Leavif)g aside, in Nietz-
sche's attack on ohr religion, all those parts, whether in the
earlier or in the later work, which originated in prejudice and
passion and foreign influence, rather than in the mind and true
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346 Studies on Fried rich Nietzsche [June,
character of the writer, we will confine this study to those
points on which the philosophy of Nietzsche presents charac-
teristic oppositions to the doctrines of Christianity. In these
more solid and typical oppositions we shall find both false and
true ; we shall find certain elements that can be reconciled
with Christianity by means of a fuller synthesis, others that
remain necessarily antagonistic. We shall find, too, that a su-
perficial and unreal presentment of Christianity, by some Chris-
tians, has laid the sanctuary open to invasion on pretexts that
could never have been found in Christianity itself. And thus
we may hope that even Nietzsche's anti-Christianity will not
be altogether pernicious, but will help us to a fuller under-
standing of some of the truths of our religion ; a religion
which has known how to take the best from its enemies as
well as its friends.
THE COMMUNION OF SAINTS.
We know that one of the leading characteristics of Nietz-
schean philosophy is its anti-Socialism. In the laws and con-
ventions of society he saw merely a system invented for the
preservation of the many weak against the few strong; and
this, for him, denoted a combination of the worthless against
the worthy, of the commonplace and insignificant against the
eminent and distinguished. Social morality is the morality of
a flock or herd, useful for the contemptible average, pernicious
to the noble few. To him it seemed that there was but one
test of sound morality, and that was the health of the indi--
vidual soul. Every other kind of morality was Herdenmorai,
and Christian morality was to be denominated in like manner.
A human society was, in fact, in Nietzsche's eyes, a human
herd ; and Christianity, as a social religion, was also a religion
of the herd. It was planned, like every collective institution,
for the safety, even the supremacy, of the weak ; and it al-
lowed, therefore, no space for the development of such indi-
viduals as he contemplated, strong, superabundant; creating
their own laws, which, for others, should be precedents; know-
ing no ruling principle but that of their own self development.
But, before even touching on Christianity, we must take
our stand against the confusion of the idea of a society, in its
true and human sense, with the notion of a herd. In his re-
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I906.] STUDIES ON FRIED RICH NIETZSCHE 347
action against socialistic theories^ with their contempt for the
noblest individual and the most eminent minority, and their
over-weening esteem for numbers and majorities, he rushed
into the belief that every society was based on the same con-
ceptions. Now«^he vice of a purely collectivist theory is that
it does indeed make human society akin to a human herd, but
the distinction between the two is, nevertheless, very real and
very profound. It is quite true that, for certain purposes, we
may form ourselves into associations which can be properly
described as berdlike in their nature; but such is not society
in its higher and strictly human sense. Being animals as well
as men, we may collect ourselves together as animals for cer-
tain animal ends; but, once we associate for any more spirit-
ual object, we form a society, as distinct from a herd. The
term herd, applied to any human society, would signify that
such a society existed for purely common advantages and in-
terests; each one helping to secure to the rest those rights ot
which he wishes also to partake himself. In a herd all want
the same things, and combine, with greater or less intelligence,
for their attainment. There is a sum of general interests, of
which each one has his share, a share of which he might be
deprived if he lived alone and unprotected. He contributes to
the common action and partakes of the common results.
But human society, though it may also possess these char-
acteristics of the herd, possesses something much more besides.
We are members of an intelligent and spiritual society, not
only for the sake of sharing what others possess, but, still
more, in order to enter into the riches of our own kingdom.
We become partners of the thought and knowledge, the intel-
lectual perception and moral achievements of others, not only
in order to think and feel what they think and feel, but, still
more, if we are active and not parasitic members of society,
in order to develop the force of our own individuality, to think
the thoughts of our own mind, to do the deeds of our own
soul. So that Nietzsche's profound mistake was in his failure
to understand the nature of society, in the human or the spirit-
ual sense of the word, as something not inimical to true per-
sonality, but essential to its highest development.
He is not the only one who has made such a mistake.
Even those who have recognized that society exists for spirit-
ual as well as material needs, too often fail to realize that it
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348 Studies on Friedrich Nietzsche [June,
does not exist simply for the sharing of the same aspect of
the same thing; that each one is not only to reap from it his
part of that which is common to all, but also to be stimulated
in the pursuit of his own special calling and destiny. Society
is to help him to go where society itself cannot always follow ;
or, at least, not till much later, when through the work of the
individual, the whole social domain has been extended.
Now Christianity proposes an association for purely spirit-
ual ends, an association, therefore, which rises above the char-
acteristics of a mere herd, more than any political society can
do. So long as the least material element remains, we cannot
say that every herd- like quality is eliminated, but, in a reli-
gious society, this element ought to be least predominant and
continually diminishing. It is an association more intimate and
spiritual, and yet, for that very reason, more individual and
free. Alone of all societies, the Church, in which Christian
society has its fullest expression, acknowledges openly its in-
ability to pronounce final judgment on its members, even in
regard to the work for which it exists; its task being to put
each one into relation with eternal truth and life, and leave
him to work out his own destiny therein, God alone deciding
how far he has succeeded or .failed. She offers herself to each
soul as a means, not an end ; she is, in one sense, the hand-
maid, not the mistress. Her message is not " do as others do
in order to be like them''; but, "do as others do in order to
do afterwards what you alone can do." She aims at union, in-
deed, but not at unison; and the point of union, be it ever
remembered, is in the Infinite and Eternal, in that which tran-
scends, and not in that which is common to all. To Nietzsche
it seemed that only the weak and parasitic had need of such
a society, and that they would seek it simply in order to live
on the strength of others. But, in truth, it is in the very in-
terests of our own highest development that we need it, and
by this development we help others as well as ourselves. The
humblest living member — we speak not of those which are
purely mechanical and dead — is glorified by this communion,
while he also gives glory; nor is there any ignominy in hold-
ing apparently the lowliest place in a society governed by
ideals which are at once beyond and over all, and within each
one. We obey the best within ourselves, and we follow the
law of our own nature, when we obey the voice of the Church
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[9o6.] Studies on Friedrich Nietzsche 349
ipeaking for each one of us and for all. Even the "super-
nan " might find his place in such a spiritual society, in such
L communion of saints.
II.
SPONTANEITY AND ASCETICISM.
As the superman of the past was, in Nietzsche's theory,
distinguished by a kind of animal spontaneity, so, it would
;eem, was the superman of the future to be characterized by
I higher and more human spontaneity. We have not forgot-
:en the vein of asceticism which runs through the whole of this
3hilosophy« with its advocacy of self- discipline, self-mastery,
ind heroic endurance of pain ; hence it must be fully under-
stood that this super-human spontaneity was supposed to fol-
ow on the acquisition of these virile characteristics. The weak,
Lhe slothful, the cowardly, the parasitic, were not of the race
3f the superman ; he was to be a conqueror, free to exercise
5 very faculty, to follow every instinct, because he had reached
;hat stage in which he had become a law unto himself.
Now one of Nietzsche's strongest objections to Christianity
nras that he looked on it as a religion of asceticism and self-
repression, as a mode of life absolutely opposed to this indi-
vidual freedom, which he regarded as the choicest flower of
human nature. He would have a self-development wholly from
pvithin, an entire absence of external motive or compulsion, of
internal struggle or division. Christian ascetics seemed to him
to glorify and perpetuate that lower stage which the superman
has conquered and transcended.
In all this Nietzsche is acting partly under a misunder-
standing, and partly, on the contrary, is his objection justifi-
able, according to his own views. He thought that Christian-
ity taught asceticism and asceticism only; that, during this
life, there was to be nothing but mortification abnegation,
self-restraint; that spontaneity, of every kind, was to be
quenched and subdued.
He was right so far as this, that Christianity, with its
recognition of the inherent imperfection of the present life,
cannot admit that this world gives sufficient space or fitting
occasion for the exercise of the highest individual freedom.
There is room on earth for animal spontaneity, or even for a
certain lower stage of human spontaneity, but not for the
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highest of which we are capable. Therefore, Christianity car-
ries on the process of discipline to the end of life, and yet,
all the while, has spontaneity in view as the aim and legiti-
mate outcome of this previous schooling. More than this — it
gives us, even in this life, to understand that our development
should be ever in the direction of fuller liberty; that the
noblest self-mastery is that which has become so habitual as to
be free and almost instinctive; and that the highest stage^
even on earth, is that of those who 'Move and do as they
will."
So that the difference is really this: Nietzsche thought we
could attain the noblest freedom, the most perfect spontaneity
in this our present life, under these our present conditions;
Christianity tells us that the world is not good enough for us,
that spiritual freedom needs nobler surroundings to blossom
into its full perfection. Her superman is too glorious a being
to ever find room amidst material necessities and surround-
ings; he outgrows them all, and passes, by the necessity of
his nature, into a wider, nobler sphere. Yet, even now, his
process is ever in the same directions; be fights to win, he
suffers to triumph, he obeys in order to do bis own will.
III.
••GREATER LOVE THAN THIS NO MAN HATH."
, " Self-seeking/' says Nietzsche, " is commendable or not
according to the worth of the self-seeker; egoism can be noble,
or it can be worthless and contemptible. We must ask, in re-
gard to each one, if he represent the ascending or descending
line of life, this is the criterion by which to test his right to
be a self-seeker. Is he on the ascending scale, then, by reason
of his exceptional value, and for the sake of the general good,
which can be advanced by means of him, should extreme care
be devoted to his preservation, and to the creation of sur-
roundings favorable to his development. There is no single
man, no individual, as people and philosophers have hitherto
understood the term; the individual is nothing in himself, no
atom, no ring of the chain, no mere legacy of the past — he is
the whole line of man down to himself. If he stand for the
downward movement, for decay, chronic perversion, sickness
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i9o6.] Studies on Friedrich Nietzsche 351
(sickness is, in general, a consequence and not a cause of de-
cay), then his value is nought, and justice demands that he
should take as little as possible from the more successful." *
A little later, in the same work, we find a remarkable pas-
sage on suicide. There are cases, he thinks, when patient and
physician should combine to end a life which is useless to the
individual, and injurious to the community at large.
" Under certain conditions it is no longer reasonable to
live. . . . We cannot help being born, but we can repair
the fault, for a fault it is. In such case, to end oneself is the
worthiest possible deed, we almost deserve thereby — to live,'* \
In the first of these paragraphs we have the best of Nietz-
sche's doctrine of self-love; in the second we see how he too
taught that, under certain conditions, a man should hate his
own life, and should lay it down for the good of his neighbor,
to whom he had become a source of danger and infection.
He protests against the self-sacrifice of the best, not merely
in the interests of the individual, but in those of all mankind.
In some places be may advocate egoism in a crude form, yet
this larger idea must always have been in the background. In
substance, his teaching was that the great, the wise, the strong,
the noble, should seek their own good and assert themselves
at the expiense of others; while the weak and unsuccessful are
invited to shrink into as small a compass as possible, to give
themselves up for the advantage of these mighty ones, and to
get out of the world altogether so soon as they feel that they
are nothing but an encumbrance. His doctrine does not, there-
fore, exclude all regard for the whole, but it supposes that the
interests of the whole are best served by an exclusive atten-
tion to the good of the distinguished few. Self-love was to
be grounded on self-sufficiency, and self-sufficieiicy was to be
justified by the importance of these eminent individuals to the
whole race. They were to do self-consciously what nature
does unconsciously, to fight the battle of the strong, regaid-
less of the ruin of the weak. A few strong men are worth all
the rest of the world ; they are the world, or the only world
that deserves to be reckoned with.
Nietzsche thought there was no room in Christianity for
any true self-love; in this he was profoundly mistaken. The
difference lies rather in the source and justification of this
• CStzendammerung. Par. 33. t Idem, Par. 36.
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352 Studies on Friedrich Nietzsche [June,
self-love, and in the very opposite application of the doctrine
of self- hatred, or abnegation. Nietzsche invites the weak and
unworthy to sacrifice themselves for the good of their nobler
fellow- beipgs; Christianity, on the contrary, demands greater
self-sacrifice from the strong, and makes comparatively milder
demands on the weak. This is, according to Nietzsche, a re-
versal of the established order of nature, a reversal bound to
issue in disaster and failure. The reply to this is that the
spiritual order is not governed by material laws, and that
Christ was dealing with different values from Darwin. We
may deny the very existence of those values, in which case
further discussion on this point would become useless; but if
we would judge the Christian doctrine of self-love, self- hatred,
self-sacrifice, it must be in relation to the spiritual order which
they suppose, and not in relation to a material order which
they transcend.
When, as sometimes unfortunately happens, we hear asceti-
cism advocated as though it were literally better to have less
life rather than more; less strength, health, beauty, mind, rather
than more; we can feel some sympathy with the advocates of
self-assertion. But let us understand these doctrines more
truly, and we see that all this, which looks at first like self-
hatred and world-flight, is, in reality, a movement of life and
not of death, of fullness and not of poverty. Behind both
strong and Weak lies a land of inexhaustible wealth, in which
all have an inalienable share. When a man gives, it is not
out of his own limited personality and possessions, but rather,
through him, the wealth of this infinite world flows into the
soul of his weaker brother, who is in less intimate and vigor-
ous relations with it. And, as it passes from the one to the
other, it enriches him who gives and him who takes; the bene-
factor is ennobled, the recipient is not abased. Nietzsche urged
man to the exercise of the creative faculty ; here is the no-
blest opportunity to follow his advice. He lacked the knowl-
edge of that higher spiritual world, which could alone justify
the confidence of the superman, and in which alone could be
found the true source of his much boasted superabufidance.
Without this knowledge he could not understand the Christian
doctrine of self-sacrifice, and what is called the folly of the
Cross. He thought the Christian was casting life away, or
wasting it on the weak and unworthy, when be was, in reali-
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I906.] STUDIES ON FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE 353
ty, drawing on an eternal and inexhaustible source, which was
increased, and not lessened, by distribution.
It may be asked, then, in what the self-sacrifice of the
Christian really consists, if he loses nothing by all that he
gives? It consists, not in a weakening of the forces of the in-
dividual, but in the bursting of those narrow, egotistic barriers,
which simply confine the riches and power of the personality.
We call it self-sacrifice because all the instincts of our lowei
nature rebel against this enlargement of our confines. Did we
realize the nature of our action, we should see that it was in
our own interest as in that of others that we practiced this so-
called self-sacrifice ; and the name would be no longer applica-'
ble. But it does only too well for our present limited and self-
sh understanding ; it denotes the sacrifice of the lower inter-
ests to the higher, of the private and auto-centric to those
that are human and universal, without ceasing to be personal,
in the wider sense, as well.
We must revert once more to one of the weak points we
indicated in Nietzsche's doctrine of the superman. He thinks
the weak and unworthy should learn self-sacrifice, and leave
the practice of self-assertion to the superman. But history con-
firms what would have been our a priori supposition, that it is
not, and it pever has been, the unworthy who could be got to
abandon and sacrifice their own low interests — it is only the
great and noble, those worthiest to live, who are ready and will-
ing to die, when the good of mankind demands it. And why
is this? Not out of world-weariness or self- weariness, or pity;
but just because they are in fuller, closer relations with a uni-
verse of higher values, wherein self-love and self-sacrifice both
find their highest justification. For Nietzsche there was no
self-love conceivable but that which was also ruthless and ex-
clusive; not so for the Christian. He is valued by one who
can bear with him at those terrible times when he can hardly
bear with himself; he is in communication with a spiritual
world which is open to weak as well as to strong. It is his
consciousness of infinitude that makes him strong against his
own lower self and pitiful to the misery of others; for his
riches are not such as can be wasted by generosity, and his
strength is fed from an eternal source.
yOL. LXXXIII,— 23
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354 Studies on Friedrich Nietzsche [June,
IV.
LIFE EVERLASTING.
With a desperate and pathetic intensity Nietzsche endea-
vored to concentrate all the thought and energy of mankind on
the present fleeting life. Nothing in the Christian faith was
more repugnant to him than its promise of a future existence,
in which the inequalities of this one should be rectified, and its
standard of values transcended. This was to rob life of its im-
portance, to extinguish the interests of earth by the promise
of joys in heaven, to substitute the motive of gratuitous re-
ward for the incentive of inner and self- evolved activity.
This line of objection, which is common to mahy others be-
sides him, derives whatever force it may possess from a wrong
conception of immortality. " Eye hath not seen, ear hath not
heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive
what things God has prepared for those who love him " ; but
there is a childish notion of the life to come which is lacking
in this sense of mystery. It makes the future at once too like
the present and too unlike; too like, in so far as it is deemed
to possess the same interests and the same joys, only in a more
persistent and intense form ; too unlike, because it is not re-
garded as an essential development of the present, but simply
as its adjudicated reward, like a holiday in the country after
school time in the town. This conception, if seriously adopted
and not merely in figure, does indeed rob our actual life of
some of its due and rightful dignity, just as it dulls the glory
and lessens the mystery of the future. For it makes of the
present life, not the seed of the future, but simply the coin
wherewith it is to be purchased; while it makes of the future
life chiefly an adjustment of the dissatisfactions of the present
one, another existence like tl^s, save for its grievances and
grumbles.
But our faith can point to a better immortality than this;
one fraught with nobler possibilities for the future, with a
higher estimate of the present. As we have seen that Chris-
tian self-love finds its justification in a continual participation
of infinite love, so also does the present life derive its value
and its hopes of immortality from an ever active share in that
which is eternal. This world is not only a schoolroom, this
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i9o6.] Studies on Friedrich Nietzsche 355
life is not only a task, but the former is also a manifestation
of spiritual realities, and the latter a commencement of ever-
lasting life. Nothing shall be but what, in a measure, already
is ; every true thought of the mind, every right feeling of the
heart, every sincere act of the will is full of attainment as well
as promise ; it is a laying hold of what we are to possess more
consciously, more perfectly, but not for the first time hereafter.
The kingdom of heaven is within us, as well as to come; the
future life will be different, not because it is disconnected from
the present one, but because it will be the fulfilment of pres-
ent possibilities, and will make manifest the secrets of our own
soul.
All the attacks of men such as Nietzsche fail to do more
than help us to a better understanding of this higher Christian
conception of immortality. They have attacked heaven in the
interests of earth, and the Christian answers them by showing
that his estimate of the present life is ennobled and glorified
by his faith in that which is to come.
Thus we bid farewell, for the present, to Nietzsche, the anti-
moralist and the anti- Christian; to Nietzsche, our enemy and
yet our friend. Our enemy in his violent and one-sided abuse
of our religion and faith; our friend, in those lessons of which
we can make a better use than he could. He is the advocate
of life and strength and self mastery ; the foe of cowardice and
self-pity. We shall not have studied him for nothing if we
have drawn from his teaching something of his own '' will to be
strong"; what he tried to do in the light of this world alone,
we can do with noble hope and certitude in the light of God
and eternity.
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SOME LETTERS OF FATHER HECKER.
EDITED BY ABBOT GASQUET. O.S.B.
New York, February 22, 1861.
My old and dear Friend:
Do tell me, are you dead or alive ? I think I have written
several letters to you and have had no answer to any. I feel
quite sure I have written twice. How are you ? What are
you doing ? And what's going on ?
We have fuss enough just now on this side of the Atlantic.
Our folks have managed to get up a row, a double of the
first class. But like all family rows, we are likely to settle
matters, after much bluster, peaceably, and afterwards be more
fond of each other. Could we get the fanatics South and
North out of the way, the rest of us would get along smooth-
ly. I am inclined to adopt the muscular Christianity way of
settling difficulties, placing both parties in a ring, and let them
have it out.
Our own affairs prosper — superabundance of missions and
fruitful in results. Last year in our chapel we received 35
converts from Protestantism, some of whom were from the
first families of the country. Father Walworth returns to us
in a few weeks.*
I am cogitating a book, but have little or no time to write
it. My object is to show that the ordinary duties of life are
the highroads to sanctity. There is no other way of perfec-
tion for the great mass of Christians than in the performance
of the common duties of life with an eye to God. The high-
est, noblest, most perfect life is in the fulfilment of those daily
duties imposed upon us by Almighty God. This is devotion.
I think a larger playground may be given to the action of
our natural faculties and instincts without displeasing their
Author. I wish to reconcile the idea of sanctity with the
completeness of the natural man. Faith does not demand the
• Father Walworth was one of the original ^five priests to* leave the Redemptorists. Not
being fully in accord with the others, he withdrew for a time into the diocese of Albany, and
took charge of a parish. He rejoined the Paulists in 1861, and remained with them imtil 1865,
when his health gave way.
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i9o6.] Some Letters of Father Hecker 357
depression or mutilation of our nature, or its instincts. Reli-
gion gives completeness to character. The Church asks for
men^ not cyphers, or cripples.
Genuine piety calls not only upon all that is within us, but
also upon all that is without us, to praise the Lord, as God is
the ground of all being. A religion, therefore, that does not
accord with man's instincts and all nature, is essentially defec-
tive. Sanctity is not the destruction of our nature, but its
restoration. The world is to be redeemed, not by abandoning
it, and giving it over to the devil; but by charity and apos-
tolic zeal.
In the Aspirations my aim was to show the harmony be-
tween faith and reason, in the Questions of the Soul, that the
sacraments satisfy the wants of the heart; in this [new work],
that practical religion consists in the sanctification of everyday
life. It will give me the occasion of saying many things,
which have been floating about in my noddle for years.
But I must stop lest I weary you. What do you think of
the idea? Do you know of any book, or books, which will
be of use to me ? •* Don't blow me," as the " boy " said to
me after confession, ''for I have told you what I never told
any other man in my life."
I have in my hands the translation from the Italian of the
life and writings of St. Catharine of Genoa, made by a most
competent person, and carefully revised by a D D. and an
Italian scholar. The life and writings of St. Catharine have
not, to my knowledge, been published in English. The only
part of her writing which has been published is her Treatise
on Purgatory. I suppose it will make a volume, like one of
those St. Philip Neri publications by Richardson. The per-
son who translated it is recently deceased and it has been put
in my hands for publication. Nothing is published at present
in the United States; can you not do something for it in
England, either with Burns or some other publisher? The
translation ought to be worth at least ;^5o. St. Catharine's
dialogues are chefs d'oeuvres in spiritual literature. I feel
quite sure of 500 copies being taken here by Catholic book-
sellers. Don't you back down. See what you can do.
Do you get the Freeman's Journal? The Editor said sev-
eral times he would send it. I do not — don't scold — see The
Rambler ; or any other English publication. Are you alive
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358 SOME LETTERS OF FATHER HECKER [June,
yet in old England ? When are you coming to make that visit
to your Yankee cousins? Write soon.
Faithfully yours,
I. T. Hecker,
Letter address: Station E, New York City.
My last letter from you is dated September lo, 1859— which
was answered March 28, i860.
New York, December 6, 1861.
My dear Friend:
Your recent letter, date forgotten, and unfortunately mis-
laid, came all straight.
I agree with your remarks on Dr. Brownson, and read your
letter to him without note or comment. The articles on phil-
osophy I gave to him, and requested him to notice them. His
eyes are poor and he can read but little.
There are some things in your letter I would criticize if I
could find it — the tests of sanctity and the biographies written
of the saints are not the same thing. Your remarks apply to
the biographies. I will search hard after it, for it contains some
valuable hints relative to the subject I have in hand. Don't be
afraid, I shall not pitch into the Middle Ages, or any other, or
anybody — a la Simpson !
I have sent you a copy of a volume of Sermons preached
by different members of the Congregation of St. Paul. It is
addressed to Burns & Lambert for you, and goes by this mail.
You will find in Nos. X and XX. some hints at what Tm driving
at. I don't know how you Englishmen will like our sermons,
they are rough but hearty, and not humdrum. I'm inclined to
think you will like them, as there is not a small amount of the
Yankee go-aheaditiveness in your composition. Send me the
number of The Rambler if you notice them, I can't afford yet
to take it.
If this volume circulates, we shall publish one annually.
Could you make Burns or Dolman send for copies. You
could, if you told them in The Rambler they would sell. The
war times here have killed the sale of books. You folks, too,
are pinched by it, while we are squared. It is likely you will
halloo first — unless your mouths are stuffed with cotton.
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i9o6.] Some Letters of Father Hecker 359
We do not at the North see the end of the rebellion. The
North has 600,000 men in the field, and recruiting is going on.
Fleets of all kinds are going and are being prepared. A large
one is now nearly ready to go down from St. Louis, on the
Mississippi River, to New Orleans. Maybe it will get '' thar " !
The public North and South are anxious to hear what old
England will say about the Mason and Slidell affair.* Some say
you will kick up a war. Perhaps you might, if you had not
such a troublesome customer in Louis N[apoleon].
I have said nothing about what I have at heart — the Church,
and the attitude of Catholics vis a vis to the world around us*
You will detect ours, I think, in the volume of Servians.
If I could stretch my hand across the Atlantic, I would
give you a hearty good shake.
Kind regards to your wife.
Faithfully yours,
L T. Hecker.
New York, May 20, 1862.
My dear Friend:
I almost hear you laugh when I read your letters, and feel
like punching you in the ribs for your squibs.
Your talk about the rebellion is wretchedly poor, and the at-
titude of the English people in regard to it is shameful. The
discussion of it in a letter would be a waste of time, and the
newspapers both sides of the Atlantic are full of it. My in-
clination is to leave the points in dispute to the settlement of
the iron noses of our gun boats and battering rams. Let them
butt it out.
I feel a great interest in The Rambler as a quarterly. You
have everything among you, talent, learning, and means to en-
sure success, could you only be made to pull together.
I have communicated to Dr. Brownson your proposition,
and expect an answer from him before closing this letter. His
Review is continued, but I have been told that he said he could
* Mason and Slidell sailed in a British ship in October. 1861, from Charleston as con*
federate commissioners to European courts. The ship in which they were was captured, and
they were taken as prisoners to Boston. England directed Lord Lyons, the British minister
at Washington, to leave if Mason and Slidell were not released within seven days. This had
the desired effect, and on January z, 1862, the commissioners were released and allowed to
proceed to Europe.
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36o SOME Letters of Father Hecker [June,
not continue it another year. This is, however, an old song;
one I have heard for the last fifteen years. His health is poor.
He may have some offer of his own to make. His last number
has a great deal in it to startle '' old fogies," his dislike of old
fogeyism is as great, if not so daring, as yours. Father Hewit
says that you remind him of the long iron snout of the Mer-
rimac pitching into the sides of all the old hulks she can find.
I contribute 1 Why I have not the time to say my soul is
my own. My time is so absorbed by immediate duties, that I
have no leisure to carry out side projects of my own. When
I say that I take a lively interest in the new Rambler^ I mean
it, and what I can do for its interest this side I will. Wal-
worth has a book in manuscript; but the present difficulties
hinder its publication. It is on the relations of Divine ReveU
ation with the modern discoveries of science. He has been
years at posting himself up on the subject, and I know that
you will be pleased with it, if it ever comes to light. He is
now on a mission, or I would propose the publication of it in
chapters in The Rambler^ provided you thought well of it. Wal-
worth has a clear and good Saxon style, and has made him-
self acquainted with our first geologists. A couple of weeks
ago, on a mission at Cambridge, Mass., he visited Agassiz. If
yoii think well of this — speak.
To write you literary criticisms, requires one who is already
in the way of receiving the new publications. I will try to
find you the man.
I will send, by this steamer, a copy of the Sermons^ by the
Express ; I hope they will reach you in time for the first num-
ber of The Rambler.
Should Louis Binsse, of New York, call upon you, as I
have suggested, give him a warm reception. He is an intimate
friend of mine, an American up to the hub — a most intelligent
and sincere Catholic, a model man.
Yours as ever faithfully,
I. T. Hecker.
Dr. Brownson has been very sick, so I have understood this
afternoon — I've no answer yet — I'll have one soon, and send
it to you when it comes. He lives in Elizabeth, N. J.
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i9o6.] SOxifE Letters of Father Hecker 361
New York, September 12, 1862.
My dear Friend:
Is the Home and Foreign a myth, or has it been extin-
3ruished by '' the authorities," or did your publisher forget
^our orders? It has not reached these parts, nor even as
nuch as been heard of. If it has existence I should like to
;ee it.
Catholicity, so far as I can learn, is in a fossil state in -the
' old country " ; here it is undergoing a process of new forma-
ions. Some of the most hostile sects are adopting Catholic sym-
>ols, feasts, and devotions. Presbyterians 4>uild gothic churches
Krith crosses on, and with stained windows. Unitarians have
vesper services, commemorate some of the great fea$ts of the
3hurch, make a great ado about our Lady, adorn their churches
Krith flowers, etc. There is a widespread movement among
:hem towards the adoption of Catholic symbolism, not from an
esthetic point of view so much as from the feeling of their
lecessity. The points of Christianity that they held are fast
lisappearing, and they are forced to these external expressions
est they wholly vanish out of sight.
I am inclined to approve and encourage this tendency. I
Tirould say, you are on the right track, go ahead ; there are
nore fine things in the Church than you imagine. Take them
ill. The more they get and assimilate of our outward worship,
:he less will be the distance between us, and their return will
ilso be facilitated. I regard this movement as a remote prepa-
ration on a grand scale for a return to Catholicity. In aiding
t, and in furthering conversion, whether of large classes of
nen or individuals, it is better, in my opinion, to show the
lefectiveness of their creed, than to endeavor to prove they
lave no Christianity or faith at all. The Catholic truth suf-
ers more in many instances, and conversions are often hin^
iered, by the bitterness, lust of dominion, and ignorance of its
idvocates, than from the prejudices of its enemies. The Church
las too often reason to cry out : " Save me from my friends ! "
I believe that American Institutions will give a broader
>asis for Catholic truth than any other. They excite by their
lature the exercise of the intelligence of the individual, and
:all upon him to exercise his free-will more than any other in-
ititutions. Some think that this is carried too far. I don't.
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362 Some Letters of Father Hecker [!"»«»
Tve fixed ideas on this point. This present war has developed
a spirit of self sacrifice, of strength, of bravery, of heroism
that is worth more — there is nothing of material worth which
can be compared with it. Its true history will be the most
remarkable that has ever been transacted. It is a bloody pas-
sage of our youth to the self- consciousness of our manhood.
^^ Non mortar sed vivam et narrabo mirabilia tua"
In this mirabilia I live. Three centuries may elapse before
religion, intelligence, and liberty are united in their highest
development. This is the work that God has given to us as a
people to do. We shall do it; we are now doing it. War is
only a rough way that God has of whipping an unruly set of
children to their task.
The work of conversion keeps up here. Of late I have re*
ceived some of the best converts.
Our community numbers seven priests — not cyphers, but
«ach one a ** buck." Seven priests who stand on their own
feet are better than seven hundred who lean on each other —
stronger, can accomplish more, will accomplish more. I feel
as if we were nursing a young giant.
By the way, why don't you take care of your colonies?
We are engaged to give a mission in Halifax next Novem-
ber. Can't you come across and have a good shake of the
hand, with a hearty laugh that makes you hold up your head,
open your mouth wide, and your sides shake ?
We intend to publish another volume of Sermons in a few
months.
My kindest regards to your wife.
Faithfully yours,
I. T. Hecker.
Corner qth Avenue and sqth Street,
New York City, December 29, 1863.
My dear Friend:
I must leap right into medias res, for if I stop to make an
apology for not writing, I shall not have time to close all my
accounts with you.
Business before pleasure. About the beginning of this year
— 1863 — I sent a second volume of Sermons to your address,
which was left at Burns & Lambert for you. Did you get it.
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i9o6.] Some Letters of Father Hecker 363
with Walworth's book, of which the enclosed will inform you ?
If not, poke up those folks and make them get you others, for
they promised to hand those copies to you. If you got them,
why didn't you tell a fellow ?
I have sent to your address a third volume of Sermons^ just
out. Also a copy of Guide to Young Catholic Women wlio Earn
their own Livings by Rev. George Deshon, a member of our
Community; ditto A Sodality Manual^ also by a Paulist. I for-
get whether I marked my sermons, they are IV. VI. XVIII.
Take note of No. VI., page 97, line 7 — ** lips " should be life.
I have endeavored to get at first principles and give expres-
sion to them in that sermon: ''The Saint of our Day.''
I read in the newspapers that this is a ''big country," and
I have gone over it pretty extensively, but only lately, in go-
ing West to Chicago and St« Louis to give missions, did this
impression force itself upon me. The imagination can hardly
keep pace with the material progress and expansion of the
country. Some parts necessarily suffer from this dreadful war,
but others do not feel it, and some reap an advantage from it
Here in New York there are no indications of a national strug-
gle going on. The impression here is that the rebellion is
closing; slavery is gone; and by the philanthropic efforts of
the abolitionists the negro is likely to be exterminated.
I dream still of the conversion of the American people. I
found time between our missions to Catholics in St. Louis, which
by the way is only something more than a 1,000 miles from
New York, done in 44 hours by the R. Road, to give a
course of free lectures on religious topics, in a public hall, to
non Catholics. The hall was a fine one, seated 1,800 persons,
and was filled on seven successive evenings by an attentive and
intellectual audience, in great part not Catholics. Last winter I
made an experiment of the same kind in other parts of the
country. I find that I can gather a respectable audience of
outsiders and keep up their attendance. My next experiment
will be to continue my lectures until as many as can be are
brought into the fold. I feel convinced that by the creation
of a company of priests rightly prepared, who would go from
village to village, from city to city, and labor in an apostolic
spirit in each place so long as there is work for them to do, a
decided step would be taken in the way of conversion of this
country. I will not say that this is the vocation of the Paul-
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364 Some Letters of Father Hecker [June,
ists, but that I shall not be content until an experiment of
this kind has been tried.
I was not a little gratified to hear the Archbishop of St.
Louis, a brother to the late Archbishop Kenrick, of Baltimore
and a man who lives near to God, the nearest of all the pre*
lates I have ever seen or met, speak several times in high
praise of The Rambler. He is as modest as he is learned, and
both in a high degree, a great reader, and has the reputation
of being a severe critic. In gaining his friendship I felt richly
paid for our journey, labors, and fatigues.
I have just had put in my hands a MS. An account of the
Martyrdom of Rev. Hugh Green "at Dorsetshire, on Friday,
August 19, 1642, in the fifty- seventh year of his age, copied
from Mrs. Willoughby's MS.'' You have, I suppose, seen the
original.
The Paulist Community is in a good state — 7 priests, 3
students — one is nearly ready for ordination.
I send you the photograph of your old friend — beard and
all — you must reciprocate, if you wish me to pray for you, and
also Mrs. Simpson's. The Home and Foreign comes regularly
and I so read it, and digest it, and thank you a thousand
times for it.
Faithfully yours,
I. T. Hecker.
Corner qth Avenue and 59TH Street,
New York, May 13, 1864.
My dear Friend:
Father Hewit, who writes the enclosed, is a student, a clear
headed' and systematic one. He is a son of a Presbyterian
D.D., is about forty-four years old, and twenty years a con-
vert, having passed through Puseyism to the Church. The
primary questions with us are the Trinity, the Fall, and Hell.
For our Protestantism is rapidly going over to Unitarianism,
and this is as fast becoming Universalism. These points must
be thoroughly ventilated in order to meet the objections of in-
telligent non- Catholics. The work of our day is not so much
to defend the Church against the attacks of heresy, as to open
the way for the return of those who are without any positive
religion, true or false. We have to begin the conversion of
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J06.] SOME LETTERS OF FATHER HECKER 365
lese people de radice^ and to do this in our day and civiliza-
on, theology requires to be entirely recast. This conviction
ais forced me to take a new standpoint from the start, and to
ring it out on all occasions. Other duties have hindered me
om bringing put a book on the spiritual life, of which I spoke
\ you some years ago, but I shall go at it soon, and with
od's help do what I can.
In spite of our war the general look of things \% favorable
\ our Faith. Indeed the war has accelerated the downfall of
rotestantism and made the wiser portion of the community
el the necessity of a religion like the Catholic. Altogether
e shall come out of this war, religiously, politically, and so-
ally, a wiser and a better and a stronger people. Our debt
getting to be enormous — as big almost as your own — but
le new discoveries in precious metals and minerals, articles
F commerce, petroleum, etc., and the cultivation of new lands,
c, will enable us to pay it off at a speed, once we gain
sace, that will surprise the old world. You will say that this
leering view is all owing to my big lump of hope, perhaps
is. Nous Verrons.
Do you know Mother Juliana, an anchorite nun of King
dward III.'s time ? I suppose you do. A Puseyite had her
ixteen Revelations republished in 1843, in London, from Cres-
f's edition. I got a publisher in Boston, one of our best, to
^publish it here in first rate style. My purpose is to intro-
uce a class of Catholic spiritual books among Protestants,
he next one that I intend to publish will be Henry Suso's
title Book of Eternal Wisdom.
Kindest remembrance to Mrs. Simpson.
Faithfully yours,
I. T. Hecker.
Did you receive a package of books from me — a volume of
ermons for 1863; Gentle Skeptic^ by Walworth; and a book
r Catholic young women, by Rev. G. Deshon ?
(to be continued.)
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THE PASSING OF THE GODDESS.
BY LELIA HARDIN BUGG.
TACEY BARTLETT, aged ten, sat on the worn
and faded rug before a bright wood fire, a box
of water colors at her side, absorbed in giving
strange and brilliant hues to the ladies disport-
ing upon the fashion plates of past seasons, and
in assigning names and personalities to these pictorial beauties
in keeping with the gorgeousness of their costumes.
Queen Elizabeth's hair was receiving careful touches of car*
mine, for this slim little artist, with the large dark eyes and
tangled curls, the straight nose which came from the Grigsbys,
and the sallow complexion which came from the Missouri
swamps, knew her history very well, and was not minded to
go back of historic verisimilitude.
Seated before a window, draped in skillfully mended lace
curtains, Mrs. Grigsby, a handsome, gray- haired old woman with
small, blue veined hands, was deftly knitting a white woolen
shawl. Above the mantel was her portrait as a girl, of which
she was secretly vain, compounded of curls, a hoop skirt, round
eyes, and a smile, painted in the magical era of better days by
an artist of profound and merited obscurity. Other family por-
traits of equal worth hung upon the walls, and engravings of
Lee and Jackson kept them honored company. A worn vel-
vet carpet covered the floor, and upon its surface stood worn
leather chairs, a massive mahogany table, and two mahogany
bookcases filled with books in fine bindings — the books being
Stacey's principal legacy from her father, handsome, thriftless,
lazy Edgar Bartlett.
Stacey was Mrs. Grigsby's maiden name, and had been be-
stowed upon her granddaughter in the fear, afterwards real-
ized, that there might not be a boy in the family to bear its
fading glory. »
To be born a Stacey had once seemed to her fair compen-
sation for the minor ills of life, but when the sterile waters of
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306.] THE PASSING OF THE GODDESS 367
^verty, bereavement, loneliness — all the tragedies of the Lost
ause — had risen up and submerged her, family pride kept
le only savor that gives distinction to sorrow.
The window looked out upon the principal street of Avon-
ale, known simply as the Avenue, where dwelt the aristocracy,
s vista now splendid with the autumn tints lingering for
isurely weeks in that cone of Missouri which fits so snugly
ito Arkansas, Tennessee, and Kentucky. For even the seasons
ere in no hurry to change in that slow-moving region, where
eople, fashions, newspapers, and boats were generally behind
me. Why hurry to-day when there was always a new to«
lorrow !
. Twelve years had gone by since the surrender of Lee, but
Lvondale had not yet made up its mind to accept the situa*
on philosophically, and keep step to the march of civic
rogress. Poverty had lost its worst sting in a community
'here everybody was poor. The young men, to be sure, gen-^
rally sought other fields for their varied activities, leaving a
isproportionate number of unattached spinsters among a people
^ho had no place in their traditions for an unmarried woman
ver twenty-five.
Mrs. Grigsby, who had received Stacey as a tot of three
'om her dying mother's arms, felt the fires of old ambitions
veep through her veins as the little girl, day by day, deveU
ped a beauty which would surely carry her beyond the shoals
f spinsterhood and into a position commensurate with her
imily*s past glory.
The child's beauty, as the firelight played on her curls,
Tuck the old gentlewoman with renewed force as a pledge
f what it might do. A knock, loud and insistent, came from
le direction of the kitchen.
"It*s that little Desmond boy with the milk, Stacey, do
Lin and let him in," said the knitter by the window. " Aunt
*avinia has gone for matches — she ought to be back by this
me, but it is just like her not to be ! "
Stacey opened the kitchen door upon a sturdy youth with
onest blue eyes, auburn hair, and freckles. She was instantly
ware that carmine was not the color for Queen Elizabeth's
'esses, and wondered daringly if this boy would sit still while
he matched his hair in paint. Her embryonic talents as an
rtist evidently belonged to the Impressionist School.
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368 THE PASSING OF THE GODDESS [June,
A delay was caused by Stacey's inability to find the milk
tickets, and during her futile search through empty baking-
powder cans, Jimmie Desmond stood by the range warming
his small red hands, and forming an instant liking for Stacey.
He was new to Mrs. Grigsby*s kitchen, this being his third
day in what he called '' the milk business."
Aunt Lavinia's return broke in upon the friendly confi-
dences of the two. She produced the ticket from a cracked
teacup behind the water bucket. "Ef it had bin a snake I
guess it would a bit you-all ! " she said in deep disgust,
waiting until Jimmie had gone, before bestowing upon Stacey,
her idol, the stick of striped candy which she had cajoled the
storekeeper into giving as premium with the matches.
Aunt Lavinia had been a slave on the Stacey plantation in
Arkansas, and although she had stampeded with the rest upon
Lincoln's Proclamation, she had been very glad to return to
the shelter and protection of her old home; and when her
husband had divorced her, without process of law, taking to
himself a younger spouse, and one fairer by several shades, she
had settled down as household guardian for '' Miss Annie,"
working faithfully for a home and five dollars a month.
Mrs. Grigsby had been heard to say, some thought boast-
ingly» that although the Staceys might be poor, no Stacey
woman had ever worked. Why work, indeed, when five dollars
would procure a deputy for thirty days 1
Jimmie Desmond paused outside the gate to gaze admir-
ingly at the Grigsby domicile ; in a world where everything is
relative, this comfortable, two-storied frame house, with the
colonnaded portico, set in an acre of ground diversified by
flower-beds, graveled walks, and old trees, was, by comparison
with Jimmie's own home, a veritable mansion of the elect
Jimmie lived in a shanty in Hartman's Alley, and his mother,
a widow, supported herself and her son by boarding the ''hands"
at work on the new railroad. Mrs. Desmond had drifted to
Avondale from Arkansas on the wave of that ambition, never
dead in the daughters of her race, to give the chance of an
education to her boy.
Miss Wilson's Academy, which gathered in all the children
of the Avenue and from the neighboring plantations, was, this
year, a month late in opening its doors, Miss Wilson herself
having succumbed to malaria, known locally as ''shakin' ager,"
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I906.] THE PASSING OF THE GODDESS 369
**dutnb ager," and "third- day chills." Nobody, as a rule, paid
any attention to malaria, but this proved a very especial kind,
that defied quinine and swamp-root bitters, and demanded
change of air and a diet of lemons.
Stacey Bartlett had not expected to find Jimmie Desmond
at the Academy, but she smiled her approval when their eyes
met. Jimmie wore a collar, his hair was brushed, and his shoes
polished, and these niceties of the toilet, unknown hitherto to
Hartman's Alley, surely marked him as being personally above
his station. They met by accident outside the Academy gate,
and although it was against all precedent for a boy from the
Alley to be admitted to the company of a girl from the Aven-
ue, Jimmie boldly took his place at Stacey's side and walked
with her to the parting of the ways.
The next time that Stacey went to the kitchen to receive
the milk, she found Jimmie with a blood-stained handkerchief
wrapped about his hand. To her inquiries he explained that
he had stuck a splinter into his thumb. " It ain't nothin' ! "
he assured her with a fine show of indifference. Further ques-
tioning developed the fact that the splinter had not been re-
moved ; and Jimmie was ordered to the library — the presence
of the two bookcases giving the room its name — where Stacey
purposed to play surgeon to the ailing thumb. The operation
was a success, but the operator screamed and turned deathly
pale.
" Well, you're a funny one ! What did you holler for ? it
didn't hurt^iw/" said Jimmie, his active brain puzzling over
the mystifying ways of girls.
*' Oh, oh ! " Stacey merely gasped in reply.
** My ! what a jolly lot of books," said Jimmie, his eyes
fastened upon the treasures in the mahogany cases.
Pleased and flattered, because it is human nature to take
admiration of one's possessions as a sort of tribute to oneself,
Stacey opened the cases. Jimmie handled the books as if they
were the rarest manuscripts of the Vatican, and somehow it
came about, Stacey did not quite know how, that he departed
with Quentin Durward under his arm, and with the promise of
as many more of the treasures as he might desire to read.
The books were her own, Stacey reasoned to herself, with
disquieting thoughts of her grandmother. But when she timid-
ly confessed her generosity in lending the book, Mrs. Grigsby
VOL. LXXXIII. — 24
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370 THE Passing of the Goddess [June,
regarded the act as quite natural and proper. There was
never any accounting for the point of view of one's elders !
'^ I hope he won't soil the books," she said. " I like to see
you kind to the poor, it is a part of the duties of a gentlewoman ;
nothing marks the breeding of a lady more surely than her at-
titude towards the lower classes. I don't know that I believe
in the modern fad of giving everybody an education. This
Desmond boy, I daresay, had better be learning to plough.
Put a paper cover on the next book he takes," she added in
final caution.
For Jimmie Quentin Durward opened the gates of a new
world, where history, poetry, fiction, and travel gladdened bis
nights and days. He soon fell into the habit of returning his
book on Thursday, when he could linger for a chat with Stacey,
for on Thursday Mrs. Grigsby, in company with the rest of the
elect, was eating chicken salad, Maryland biscuits, and preserves,
with relays of hot coffee, at the meetings of the Sewing Circle.
Under the stimulus of Jimmie's example, Stacey herself
began to read the precious volumes, and although there was
much in them that was lost to the intelligence of ten innocent,
and not especially well- instructed, years, the charm and thrill
and swing of the most splendid situations somehow went to
her soul. Jimmie liked to talk things over with her, and with
the inconsistency of his sex,, forgot that he was three years
older than she, and remembered only that he had read more,
and knew more, and could do more, and was loftily superior in
consequence. But he kept the feeling of superiority on purely
intellectual grounds — as a human being Stacey Bartlett was the
most beautiful, the most adorable, the most exquisite of mortals*
Following Stacey's lead, the other children of her set accepted
Jimmie — with mental reservations. Of course he was not an
equal, but then he was a very nice boy in a circle where nice
girls preponderated.
After a winter of Walter Scott, Jimmie came to look upon
himself as Stacey's knight, and to wish vaguely that Indians
still roamed the woods, so that he could defend her with his
blood, not enough of it to incapacitate him for further exploits,
for he longed for a career of daring deeds rather than a
hero's death in the first battle. As there were neither Indians
nor bears to come out of the nearby swamps, his chivalry took
the form of pitchers of cream, nuts, May cherries, together with
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I906.] THE PASSING OF THE GODDESS 37 I
a marvelous patience, for a boy, in solving her examples in
Ray's arithmetic, and in diagraming the puzzling sentences with
which the grammar abounded.
For Jimmie, despite the privations of his earlier years, had
made up grades and passed his first classmates with a celerity
that ought to have made them dizzy.
One day in late spring, when returning his book, Jimmie
lingered timidly uncertain beyond his wont, and Jimmie was
not given to timidity. Finally he said : '' We are going to have
Mass at our house in the morning, and would you think me just
an awful beggar if I asked you to lend us the angel candle-
sticks ? " Stacey was queenly in granting favors, and the candle-
sticks were Jimmie's. Had not her grandmother said that one
should be kind to the poor?
As a matter of artistic verity, the candlesticks were not
angels, one being Pallas Athene, and the other the Winged
Victory, but gods and goddesses had not been included in the
lad's curriculum, and angels were old friends. The two fell
into a dispute as to the nature of angels, Jimmie holding that
they are girls because they wear dresses, and Stacey insisting
that they are boys because the Bible speaks of them in the
masculine gender.
"What do you want with candles in the daytime?" asked
the practical Stacey; and Jimmie, whose religious instruction
was not extensive, since he saw a priest but four times a year,
did not know why he wanted them, except that he had been
told by his mother to borrow them if he could. He was not
going to confess ignorance to this scornful little beauty, so he
temporized magnificently : " I'd have to explain a lot of things
to make you understand the reason for having candles. When
you are older I'll tell you."
But Stacey was equal to him. ** I don't believe you know ! "
she said tauntingly. " You were very glad to tell me about
the horn of Roland, and I understood that, so I reckon I could
understand about my grandmother's candlesticks ! "
On St. Patrick's day Jimmie wore a shamrock, and entered
the school-room belligerently, expecting to have to fight for
his principles, but beyond Willie Mitchell's shout: "Catch on
to the Paddy ! " nobody, except Stacey, paid any attention to
his decoration. As usual she desired to be informed as to its
meaning.
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372 The Passing of the Goddess [June,
" But who was St. Patrick ? " she said in further inquiry.
" Why Stacey Bartlett, not to know about St. Patrick ! "
"He wasn't an American, anyway" — with dignity — '*and
we are not especially interested in foreigners."
*' He was the father of his country," said Jimmie, casting
about for an answer that would crush. " He converted Ire-
land with a shamrock. Til bet you don't even know what a
shamrock is ! "
It was really too hard to admit defeat to this boasting
Irish imp.
" Dear me, you think you are awfully smart, don't you ?
How do you spell it ? " — in a flash of inspiration, for spelling
was not Jimmie's strong point.
" S-h-a-m-r-o-c-k, of course."
" Oh, you mean a sham- rock ? You pronounced it so queerly
I didn't understand you at flrst. A sham-rock is a kind of —
of shell that looks like a rock," she triumphed.
A shout of derisive laughter met this explanation.
''It is a leaf in three parts, like a clover- leaf. St. Patrick
used it to represent the Blessed Trinity."
Stacey was convinced, but it did not follow that she was
therefore silenced.
'* America was converted with the Bible 1 " she said loftily.
•* There's where you're off again ! The Indians couldn't
read, they were savages! Columbus brought a priest with him
— and Columbus was a foreigner, too. And if it hadn't been
lor him, where would you Americans be ? "
" He didn't stay a foreigner, anyway ; that's why he was
so anxious to discover America ! "
A year went by. On Washington's Birthday the Academy
showed its patriotism in a series of historical tableaux, and
Stacey Bartlett, as was fitting for a girl whose forebears had
fought in the Revolution, was Martha Washington, while Wil-
lie Mitchell enjoyed the honor of being the great George.
When George bent over Martha's hand, but not too low for
fear that his wig of luxuriant white horsehair might fall off,
Jimmie, who was merely a common soldier, felt that flesh and
blood could stand no more.
** A pretty Washington you are ! I'll be ahead of you
some day ! " he said under his breath. When the tableau was
over he could not refrain from saying to Martha: "My great-
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i9o6.] THE Passing of the Goddess 373
grandfather's didn't fight in the Revolution^ because he wasn't
living here; but if he had been he'd have fought till the last
round of powder — you can bet your sweet life on that ! "
At the next encounter of the pair, Jimmie said, as he stood
at the bookcase trying to decide between Views Afoot and
Oliver Twist: " Stacey, what does * onery ' mean?"
Stacey was never quite sure whether Jimmie's questions
were for information or for triumph, but in either case she an-
swered them valiantly.
'^'Onery' — it means — oh, when a man sells a blind horse
without telling — a yellow dog that snaps at a little dog and
runs away — a darky that steals and won't work — a woman
who doesn't sew buttons on her husband's shirt — that's being
*onery.'" She stopped her tongue just in time — it was on the
point of saying: " People who live in Hartman's Alley are
• onery.' "
"Well, but this is some other kind of ' onery,' I guess; be-
cause I heard at the post-office that Mr. Mitchell and the
Methodist minister are to be ' onery' pall-bearers for Mr. Chase.
I don't expect a preacher would sell a blind horse."
" Perhaps they are called ' onery' because Mr Chase had a —
wooden 1 — foot" — Stacey had been taught that legs were not
ladylike. A little girl had feet and ankles, and on rare occa-
sions, perhaps, a limb, but legs — never!
Jimmie's ambitions kept pace with his achievements.
" I was born in this country, so I can be president of the
United States," he boasted to Stacey.
" Lots of people who were born here never get to be
president. You've got to do something great first, and then
go about the country telling people about it, and getting them
to vote for you."
"Perhaps I'll be a liberator, like Daniel O'Connell."
"But there isn't anybody to liberate."
At a further stage in his historic development, he insisted
that Napoleon was a greater man than Julius Caesar, and Stacey
declared that General Lee was greater than either.
Jimmie did not combat this opinion, for he had learned
just how far he dared to go with Stacey.
" Napoleon was a dandy, but I don't think much of those
' Boharnesses,' " he concluded.
Spring had come again, with all its promise, its charm, its
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374 THE Passing of the Goddess [June,
subtle renewals, when Jimmie's fancy chanced upon the Lives
of Gfeat Queens. In an arbor of roses he summoned up cour-
age to say : " Stacey, I think you are grander and more beau-
tiful than any queen who ever lived. When I'm a man, and
have a lot of money and a fine house, I'm going to marry
you. You know I'd never look at any other girl but you."
And Stacey, not knowing at all why she did so, blushed as
red as the roses above her dark head.
When Stacey was thirteen years old a promise that had
seemed too dazzling ever to become a reality was fulfilled, and
her grandmother took her to Memphis on one of the great
boats that she had watched with starry eyes as they sailed up
and down the Mississippi River. They heard " Rigoletto," and
saw Edwin Booth as Hamlet, and drove in the park, and
haunted the shops where flashing jewels and silver tankards
and cut glass punch-bowls were displayed. When they re-
turned home they brought boxes of beautiful things, for Stacey
was to have a party 1
Whispers of this great function followed close upon the
whispers of her epic adventures whilst away.
Stacey was too happy to sit quietly at school and do sums
in square-root, but teachers were so unreasonable.
And then suddenly the wheels to the car of her enchant-
ment stopped short — her grandmother refused to invite Jimmie
Desmond to the party. Pleadings and tears merely brought a
repetition of the "No."
" But, granny, it would hurt his feelings so terribly — he
plays with everybody at school, and — and he is head in all his
classes ! "
"You cannot always choose your associates at school, but
you can choose in your own home. It would be an insult to
your other guests to ask a boy whose mother cooks for com-
mon laborers."
''The girls won't mind being insulted, because Jimmie is a
good dancer, and there won't be enough boys to go round."
" Don't let me hear any more of such ridiculous nonsense.
I think you must stop associating with this Desmond boy al-
together; you are forgetting your position as a Stacey and
my granddaughter!"
Uncle Cal Jones, black, rheumatic, and old, went about de-
livering the invitations; and Stacey, in an anguish which she
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I906.] THE PASSING OF THE GODDESS 375
could not show, dared not, for very shame, even look towards
Jimmie. She was learning the inevitable lesson of her sex — to
present a brave front to the world despite the ache in heart
and brain — only she was learning it tragically early in the
game called life.
She was the queen regnant of Avondale, not to be de-
throned until her party should be of the past, and some other
little girl held one in prospect.
The day before the party Jimmie, with the desperate hope
in his heart that his invitation had been lost or forgotten,
tucked his book under his arm as an excuse for seeing Stacey,
and made his way to Mrs. Grigsby's door, meaning, in some
way compatible with self • respect^ to let her know that his in-
vitation had not been received. He was confronted by Aunt
Lavinia, as fierce an upholder of the honor of the Staceys as
even Mrs. Grigsby herself, and told that Miss Stacey was en-
gaged.
The night of the party Jimmie swore to himself that he
would remain behind closed doors, writing his Latin exercise
and mastering the hardest of his problems in algebra. How
would Stacey Bartlett ever get through algebra without his
help, when she broke down before compound fractions? He
would show them — meaning by " them " the Avondale world of
fashion — who was the cleverest boy, if he was poor, in their
old yardstick village !
But the sight of the big carriage from the Mordant planta-
tion filled with little Mordants, followed closely by other vehi-
cles, all crowded with happy boys and girls, his companions
for the most part at the Academy, was too much for his boy-
ish stock of philosophy.
He made a long detour, and finally reached the corner of
Mrs. Grigsby's lawn the most remote from the festivities; and
there, through the interstices of the fence, the splendors of the
scene mocked his hungry soul.
The party had taken the form of a lawn fete ; Japanese
lanterns were strung in lines of red flame among the trees,
the platform erected for dancing was surrounded with rows of
chairs filled with girls in dazzling raiment of white and pink
and blue, with ringlets and slippered feet, the boys standing
near in devoted attendance ; and the music — had their ever
been such music before in Avondale ? — the band, in uniforms
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376 THE PASSING OF THE GODDESS [June,
stiff with gold lace^ was playing such airs that even the stars
must want to dance together. And Jimmie could dance with
the best!
He crouched down and listened and watched, quite alone
in his stony misery, for the crowds of colored urchins and the
poor whites, who frankly accepted their fate, were bunched at
the other side of the grounds, much nearer the festivities.
What was it his father used to say ? — that America gave
everybody a chance? Well, it hadn't done much for him, but
he would make his own chance! Abraham Lincoln was born
in a shanty and he lived to be president of the United States.
To be sure, Stacey did not think much of Abraham Lincoln,
but who cared for Stacey Bartlett's opinion, anyway ?
The dancing ceased, and old Cal and his nephew, in white
jackets, were passing things — ^Jimmie could not see what, but
he had heard — everybody had heard — salad and ice-cream and
three kinds of cake, and candy and lemonade and coffee with
whipped cream. And there was a birthday cake with a gold
ring and a thimble in it — he hoped that girl-faced Willie
Mitchell would get the thimble.
Then more music, and the Virginia reel, as a culminating
gale ot merriment, ended the party.
And when the lights had gone out all over Avondale, and
the stars were paling, Mrs. Grigsby, with the complacency of
the successful hostess, lay on her big mahogany bed thinking
sadly of long-past frolics of her own, when she fancied she
heard a sob from Stacey's little cot a few feet away.
" Stacey ! "
But no answer came. The child had no doubt eaten too
much ice-cream, and it was not really prudent to give coffee
at night to children. Not a suspicion visited her worldly-wise
old brain that it was outraged affection, rather than the pangs
of indigestion, which was disturbing the slumbers of her darling.
The encomiums on her party would ordinarily have filled
Stacey with delight, but they were now as the ashes of the
Dead Sea to her lips. Jimmie avoided her, and when she
waited at the corner where he usually turned off, he deliber-
ately kept on to the next block. And what could she say ?
How explain what was beyond all explanation ? Apology
would but add insult to insult. If she but dared to put the
blame on old Cal ! A falsehood was unthinkable, of course.
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I906.] THE PASSING OF THE GODDESS 377
but might one not tell what was just a little bit not so in
order to save oneself from such dreadful trouble? If only
Jimmie could be made to believe that old Cal had not deliv-
ered the invitation ! The magnitude of the temptation held
her in fascinated bondage; but when at last she came face to
face with Jimmie, the habit of truthfulness held the invention
in her dry little throat. She smiled her sweetest, however, and
asked why Jimmie did not come for anothor book.
He thanked her formally and said that he was too busy to
read.
He might come to see her, once in a while anyway, she said.
He answered that he had too much to do to waste his time.
"I suppose there is some other girl you would rather talk
to," she said, for coquetry was the natural weapon of the race
of feminine Staceys.
" I'm not bothering my head about girls — they are a queer
lot anyway."
Towards the close of the summer it came to Stacey's ears
that the Desmonds' were going to St. Louis to live, so that
Jimmie could go to college. The news was confirmed when
Aunt Lavinia stalked into the library to say : " Miss Annie,
you all had better look out for anudder milk boy — that Miz
Desmond woman done .sold her cows, and they're gwine to
Sent Louts to live next Monday."
A sudden resolve came to Stacey — she would make up with
Jimmie at whatever cost ! One of her ancestors had faced a
mob to save the life of the man she loved.
Going to the bookcase she took Ivanhoe — a rare edition it
was, with superb illustrations, and it belonged to a set, but
what mattered a broken set of the Waverly novels when one^s
best friend was the stake ?
Carrying her precious volume, and hoping Jimmie would not
think of that hateful line, " Beware of the Greeks bearing gifts,"
or something like that, she made her way to Hartman's Alley.
Jimmie opened the door to her knock and asked her to
come in, as he might have asked a stranger whom he had
never seen before.
She held out her hand, which he had to take. "Jimmie, I
hear you are going away ; I am so sorry ! "
The tone was soft and sad and appealing, and it touched
his Celtic heart despite its Celtic dignity.
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378 THE Passing of the Goddess [June,
"Oh, you'll soon forget all about me," he responded airily,
but he could not help looking pleased.
" You know I won't. I've brought you a little keepsake,"
she added, handing him the parcel. She hoped that he would
open it, and judge the depths of her affection by the richness
of the gift. The outworks were down, but the citadel was not
yet ready to surrender.
They chatted away, and Jimmie, who could never long refrain
from talking about himself, told of his intention to go to college
and fit himself for a good position.
''I know you will succeed, Jimmie; you have it in you to
be a great man," said loyal Stacey. This opinion coincided so
exactly with Jimmie's own that he felt the floodtide of his old
liking for Stacey sweep through his wounded heart.
She stood up. " I hope you will like Ivanhoe.^*
** Ivanhoe / Oh, Stacey, your beautiful Ivanhoe ! There's
nothing I'd like better ! There never was any- other girl like
you ! "
And his words were sweet to the ear.
Jimmie's parting gift to Stacey was a dish of finest Belleek,
which had been his mother's most prized possession. So it
was that the sweetness of sacrifice transmuted the gift of each
into something personal and beyond price.
Jimmie wrote, and Stacey answered, but his second letter
reached the fire; for Mrs. Grigsby had played Fate. And
then a silence fell upon their divided lives.
Avondale was in the throes of a happy expectancy. The
Honorable James Desmond, Vice-President and General Mana-
ger of the S. V. P. Railway, was to pass through the town in
his special car, and Avondale was to give a public reception
to its most distinguished son.
William Mitchell, the mayor, rotund and slightly bald, was
to deliver the address of welcome ; and Stacey Bartlett, as she
peeped through the Venetian blinds at the Mitchell home across
the way, wondered, with a touch of her old mischief, if he
were not walking up and down the parlor rehearsing its swell-
ing periods. William's public utterances were apt to be poly-
syllabic.
Stacey herself was waiting with a quickening pulse for the
first sound of the train whistle. She wore her best gown, the
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K>6.] THE PASSING OF THE GODDESS 379
nventional black silk of accepted spinsterhood, and she hoped
a tumult of other hopes that Jimmie — she could think of
en only as Jimmie — would not notice how far out of fashion
;re the sleeves. They belonged to the balloon period, and
e dressmaker had even added a few extra inches to their
dth, hating to waste any material.
"They'll make over so nicely/' she had thought 'economi-
Uy, with her scissors poised. The making-over process was
familiar one to the women of Avondale.
Stacey stood before the pier glass in her grandmother's
idroom, and looked long and critically at her pinched and
ded face. She showed all of her forty- two years, and was
»nest enough to acknowledge it frankly. She had the room
herself now, its bigness and dinginess; her grandmother
id long since joined the ghosts of the Staceys, and Aunt
ivinia had crossed the color line. A brakeman and his fam-
r occupied the second story of the old home, and two ancient
aidens dwelt in the big parlor; for cotton had gone down,
id labor and taxes had gone up, and hard days were come
)on Stacey Bartlett.
She wondered if Jimmie would be much changed — a man
forty-five was just in his prime, whilst a woman of forty-
ro was old,, old, old — with the absolute negation of all youth.
And what would his wife be like? Stacey knew all about
s wife — a newspaper clipping, now yellowing in her scrap-
)ok, told of the brilliant wedding of James Desmond and
ouise Northrop, a gay young belle of Louisville; another
ipping recorded the birth of their first child ; Jimmie Junior
ust now be quite fifteen years old.
The intervening hours were a blur to Stacey, until she
mnd herself looking into the merry blue eyes of a handsome
lan in loose tweeds, and felt the firm clasp of his two hands
)lded over her slim fingers.
" Stacey ! It's good for the eyes to see you again ! Louise,
want you to know my boyhood's best friend," and then
tacey was shaking hands with a tall and very beautiful woman,
hose clothes, even to the untrained judgment of Avondale,
'ere the perfection of fit and finish.
The velvety skin and graceful figure, the thick dark hair
nd beautiful brown eyes, not unlike Stacey's own, were the
ttributes of a girl. And what would age have to do with
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38o THE PASSING OF THE GODDESS [June,
this woman, so hedged about with success and happiness?
She greeted the dowdy-looking spinster with all the gracious-
ness for which she was noted, and if her tones were perfunc-
tory, their flute-like sweetness concealed the fact.
The reception was a bore, of course, but if it pleased James
it was worth the effort.
The hext scene in this day of days found Stacey seated
at Jimmie's right for luncheon in his sumptuous private car;
the table was spread with fine linen and silver, velvety roses
were in the centre, flanked with silver baskets of hothouse
grapes and seedless plums.
The little Desmonds, two boys, and a girl with dimples
and red hair, sat opposite their governess, and a tall young
man, Desmond's private secretary, came next to. Mrs. Desmond.
Jimmie was stopped in his flow of reminiscences to read a
telegram, and Stacey thought of the time when the weekly
Banner was his only avenue of communication from the out-
side world.
Two solemn waiters served the courses of the luncheon ;
never before had she tasted such food, she did not even know
the names of some of the dishes, but she ate them as if they
were her daily fare.
Jimmie Junior stared owlishly at the inflated sleeves, and
surreptitiously nudged his small brother; but Stacey, whose
keen eyes had seen the gesture, did not mind. She was liv-
ing in a charmed world, where sleeves mattered less than
motes in a sunbeam.
The talk drifted to plans of travel. The Desmonds were
going abroad after the holidays to escape, in the interests of
their little daughter who had a delicate throat, the vagaries
of an American February.
" Louise, we must take Stacey with us to Egypt," said
Desmond; then turning to his guest: "You'd enjoy Cairo
and the Nile. Egypt would gratify your love for the antique.
The pyramids are even older than Avondale." The sight of
his boyhood's home was evidently stirring old memories.
The children were dismissed to their staterooms, and Stacey
was taken to the drawing-room for coffee and more conversa-
tion. The heavy carpet, the easy chairs that invited repose
to weary spines, the fineness of the curtains, the vividness of
the frescoes, the table littered with magazines, the case of
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i9o6.] The Passing of the Goddess 381
books at one end, the whiff of Jimmie's choice cigar, the
flowers everywhere, all the details of this home on wheels ap-
pealed to the instinct for luxury that was in her blood. She
had never seen a private car before, and nothing in her read-
ing had prepared her for this final note in the harmony of
modern conceptions of comfort.
And Jimmie deserved it all— she thought — his honors and
wealth and beautiful wife and dear little children.
Stacey sat late that night brooding over the wood fire, and
seeing wonderful pictures of old days in the glowing coals.
Memory, the necromancer, had wiped out thirty years, thirty
gray, dull, long years, and joined this day of enchantment to
the golden age when a little girl and a clever lad had looked
out upon life together.
Nothing about her was altered — her grandmother's portrait
still wore its changeless smile; the Winged Victory still swerved
superbly towards the matchless curves of Pallas ; Lee and Jack-
son, in the eternal vigor of their splendid youth, still gazed at
each other across the dingy wall; the books that had become
her closest friends still rested in their accustomed places.
The room was a matrix, in which her life had been caught
and fixed irrevocably within the limitations of this sleepy vil-
lage. Only the spirit was free, and in that larger freedom
something of life's finest essence should glorify its purpose.
Looking backward, she realized that success and failure were
but diverging lines of the same angle.
How should she have known that the Goddess, Opportunity,
was peeping over the shoulder of the red-haired lad who
knocked at the kitchen door?
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MRS. WILFRID WARD'S NEW NOVEL.
BY JAMES J. FOX, D.D.
lY her former work, One Poor Scruple ^ Mrs. Wil-
frid Ward secured for herself a high place among
living novelists. The wide success and high ap-
preciation that it won proved that a religious
novel, extolling Catholic ideals, when written
with ability, truthfulness, and a knowledge of life, could com-
mand the favorable attention of non-Catholics, and might be
a very efficient exposition and winning defence of Catholic
truth, securing attention in quarters, closed, and guarded by
the twin sentinels of prejudice and contemptuous indifference,
against any literature making a formal plea for Catholicism.
In her new book. Out of Due Time, the accomplished nov-
elist again presents a religious problem. In this instance, how-
ever, while the question certainly does not fail to attract the
attention of outsiders, it claims a far more acute interest from
Catholics themselves. It is not the fault of the press if any-
body is ignorant that, in Rome, and among Catholic authori-
ties, executive and academic, everywhere the vital topic of the
day is, whether or not, or how far, our traditional theology
must be reconstructed if Catholic thought is to retain any re-
spectability in the eyes of the intellectual world. Within the
Church the subject has caused much diversity of opinion. On
both sides there are extremists, or extreme tendencies. There
are conservatives who seem still to regret that the theologians
finally surrendered to the heliocentric theory ; and there are
advocates of progress who almost seem to believe that the
Catholic Church, dazzled by the light of science, should come
to the feet of the representatives of criticism, with the humble
petition: Masters, what will you that I do? This clash of
opinions is the theme to which Mrs. Ward has given powerful
dramatic expression in a life- story of four characters, worked
out with genuine artistic skill. The action of the piece may
be briefly summarized. Elizabeth, or Lisa, Fairfax, a talented
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o6.] MRS. Wilfrid Ward's New Novel 383
Ling Englishwoman, becomes acquainted with the Count Paul
Btranges and his sister Marcelle, who have come to reside
an English residence inherited from Paul's English mother.
11], after a notable career in French politics, while he was
infidel, has returned to the Church. With a thorough edu-
ion, highly intellectual, and of a magnetic personality, he
; resolved to devote himself to what he considers the great*
need of the day — to construct a bridge over the gulf which
said to yawn between the intellectual world and the Ark of
vation. He has found an able ally in George Sutclifle, a
Ling Englishman of parts, who sympathizes with Paul's views,
;, with a strong streak of practical good sense, is much more
iservative in his judgment of the methods to be pursued. As
\ action unfolds, Sutclifle becomes affianced to Marcelle — a
iracter of high spirituality, devotedly loyal, like Lisa, to the
Church, and combining the purity and frankness of a child
;h all the graces of a grande dame. Lisa becomes affianced
PauL Yet, in the end, Lisa, who is the narrator of the
ry, marries Sutclifle, and in some pages of exquisite pathos,
ates her visit to the grave of Marcelle, who dies, a volun-
y and accepted holocaust for her brother's soul.
Now for the statement and solution of the apologetic prob-
1. The spokesman of moderation is Sutclifle. George is " a
tholic, indeed, of the true English style. For, if he would
/e died with More for the Papal prerogative, he would have
d as willingly in defence of his country against the Span-
Armada." He says: "The Church cannot triumph unless
keeps its hold on the people. It must be scientific and
nocratic. One of the first articles of the Count's creed is,
ith to Scholasticism, and there I'm partly with him. He is
bring the seminaries up-to-date in historical criticism; and
tre I say : * che va piano va sano ' / for, after all, science is
its infancy. But he is the most unpractical man on the
e of the earth, and the most amazingly self-confident. Here
a business that is to affect part of the inhabitants of every
Dt on the globe. It is no mere local or even European con-
versy, but the handling of the intellectual life of the mighti-
polity the world ever saw. And to him, all he wants
ne is perfectly simple." Paul believes the world does not
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384 Mrs. Wilfrid Ward's New Novel [June,
listen to the Church because the Church does not fulfil her
true mission; she lives and works in the present hour, and
does not look forward; she ignores the thinkers who, obscure
and unpractical as they may be, are in reality preparing a pub-
lic opinion which will take the world by surprise. He "wanted
those whom it concerned to understand how the usual text-
books used by Catholics in this country were not only inade*
quate to express the great truths of religion, but were almost
unintelligible to those who were educated in the language of
a new civilization."
The pair of friends, with the co-operation of Lisa and Mar-
celle, and with the strong approbation of sympathizers abroad,
start a new magazine to push their ideas in a country where,
among Catholics, " only half a dozen men are aware of what
is going on in the world of thought, and where the active
young minds, they (the authorities) expect to become the pil-
lars of the Church, are demanding answers to questions which
the thinkers are forbidden to put now, and seek elsewhere the
mental food which their mother has denied them."
Enter the Bishop. He is a zealous, intelligent, practical
man, of solid virtue and much spiritual force. He is not strong
on the intellectual side. He is vaguely aware that there is
trouble in theological circles over the progress of opinions,
but he knows Rome will attend to that business. For the
rest, in matters of that kind he relies chiefly upon his adviser.
Canon Markham, " a man of great reading and acute intellect,
who had demolished, he understood triumphantly, many of the
scientific arguments of Huxley and Darwin in open disputa-
tion in the Town Hall of Leeds." Canon Markham, however,
who has mastered St. Thomas in a course of private study,
sniffs heresy in every manifestation of disinclination to swal-
low every opinion of the Middle Ages. His zeal for the vir-
tue of Faith is so consuming that he takes a very narrow view
of the obligations of Charity. For him the idea of laymen in-
terfering in things theological is nothing but preposterous pre-
sumption ; and he gives unmistakable signs that he is but
waiting for a chance to pounce victoriously upon the new re-
view, its aiders and abettors. Then there is the weak-minded
Father Colnes, a would-be intellectual, to whom a little knowl-
edge, acquired from Paul, becomes a very dangerous thing.
There is also another champion of conservatism — the Chevalier.
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[e is ''an Irish- American, with money, who has settled in
Lome, apparently in order to- ask every bishop to dinner,
'hether he has been introduced to him or not." The Cheva-
er, who knows at second- hand a good deal of Roman tattle,
ssures Canon Markham, who is very ready to be convinced,
lat Paul is a marked man, not a Catholic at all, but a masked
ifidel and freemason. '' But he is a most earnest Catholic ! "
lizabeth protests, at a dinner table. '' He has a perfect hor-
>r of secret societies " '' He was well known to be a free*
lason in Germany," he chirruped on; "and then he is a lib-
ral Catholic of the most pronounced type." '' I thought you
lid he was not a Catholic at all ? " "Well,. it's much the same
ling," he went on gaily. "We ought to get rid of those fel-
»ws, turn them out. Who wants them? They think them-
»lves so important; let's just show them we can do without
lem. You've got too many of them in England. There's
eorge Sutcliffe, for instance."
The review comes out, and by its third number, to the cha-
rin of Canon Markham, has shown itself so admirable that it
lays the suspicion of the most old fashioned. But George
utcliffe has hard work to make Paul see that the great care
lown to preserve an unimpeachably respectful tone towards
le authorities is not a piece of unnecessary humbug. Gradu-
ly complications arise. To the profound satisfaction of the
anon. Father Colnes leaves the Church, and pious ladies con-
>le themselves for the apostasy, by shaking their heads over
le perversity of people who would instruct theologians. Eliz-
3eth muses: "I saw a storm gathering, and bursting on the
evoted heads of a little group of men entirely single-minded
id high-souled, a little knot of men who, looking out from
le fortress, had seen that a great and powerful enemy was
Barer than was supposed — an enemy with new weapons, with
uns of strange power, with which they would plant their balls
\ the very heart of the fortress, ignoring the old defences of
snturies, not troubling to attack the walls thick with theolo-
ians. And then this little knot were misjudged and called
'aitors because they wanted to study the methods of the
nemy. Last of all, was there any danger of those men failing
nder the double fire of friends and enemies, leaving the fort-
es and becoming traitors to all that was most sacred and
lost binding?"
YOU Lxxxiii.— 25
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386 Mrs. Wilfrid Ward's New Novel [June,
II.
The centre of interest is transferred to the Catholic Congress
that meets in Switzerland. Here the author deftly recurs to
the device of introducing epistolary correspondence, lest the
insight shown into the burning questions of the hour might
seem a strain upon verisimilitude if ascribed to Elizabeth. At
the Congress Paul gave expression to the views of the liberals.
He pleaded for more liberty of thought to scientific men;
pointed warningly to the ghost of Galileo ; asked for a more
precise and satisfactory interpretation of the doctrine of inspU
ration. He crushed an opponent who, in a tedious speech,
''labored for three-quarters of an hour to prove the obvious —
namely, that the divine authorship of the Bible is of faith,
and wound up with a denunciation of the pride of human rea-
son." Paul concluded with an eloquent peroration on the Holy
See, and walked in triumph out of the convention hall, arm in
arm with the suave, polished, diplomatic Cardinal Mattel, who
unreservedly approved all Paul's arguments, and deplored the
narrowness of theologians. *' Come to Rome, if they trouble
you," he said to Paul ; *' Rome is the friend of science. Your
beautiful comparison is true; she remains calm and serene, ris-
ing above these discussions, permitting them and overruling
them." " Paul, who has no sense of humor," wrote George
Sutcliffe, " was simply profoundly impressed by all this ; and
I had not the heart to tell him what I thought, that the Car-
dinal was a diplomatist, and not much of a theologian, and
that his promises were more remarkable for their sympathetic
quality than for good wear."
If Paul triumphed at the Congress, Nemesis was near. During
a brief absence of George from the editorial chair, Paul published
an article of his own entitled "The Old Catholicism and the
New," not fundamentally different in trend from his address at
the Congress, but divested of the prudent reservation that clothed
his speech. It '' treated existing theology with sheer contempt,
and ignored the value of authority, even as a breakwater, as
a witness to the older and deeper truths, a witness to the prin-
ciple of stability." "Scholasticism was not a stage in the de-
velopment of that science which is necessary to protect and
preserve Christian Revelation, but a veritable aberration of the
human intellect." '' The Catholicism of the future was to be
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9o6.] MRS. Wilfrid Ward's New Novel 387
>rmed, not by the interaction of old truths and new, but
mply by the personal opinions of Paul and his friends, of
lose who professed, indeed, to be Catholics, but whose views
'ere almost exclusively determined and fashioned by the pecu-
ar tendencies of the present age. The Church was called
pon to accept Paul & Co. as her leaders; and, on that con-
ition, they would love and praise and venerate her, but on no
ther." In short, elated with confidence, inspired by the atti-i
ide of the Cardinal, Paul was resolved to force the crisis,
[e believed, somewhat after the fashion of Lammenais, that
sform could come from some violent interposition of Rome,
whose knowledge and insight would have to be almost mirac-
lous to meet the occasion." Then the Canon had his innings.
L priest at the episcopal residence wrote to Sutcliffe. At
reakfast " Canon Markham came in holding the Catholic Inter-
ational in his hand. He was in a dark glow of holy aveng-
tg joy. The foe was unmasked, the heretic displayed in all
is true colors. He ate a large breakfast, as if it were a sol-
mn duty to sustain the champion of the Lord. I could have
lid sacrilegious hands on him ! I never felt such bad pas-
ons in my life ; they almost choked me while I watched him.
vc never felt like that before, because I've never been so
antically unhappy as that article has made me. It was joy
> him." Of course, the bishop withdrew his favor from the
arty, and informed the editors that unless they inserted a com-
[ete retraction of the article, and promised, for the future, to
iibmit everything to censorship, he would forbid the issue of
le review, and prohibit its circulation among Catholics.
Paul refused to submit; "Perish the Catholic International
\evieWt it has done its work. It has proved that there is no
eedom of speech for Catholics in England ; and freedom of
>eech I will have, but I shall seek it not here, but in Rome,
[y friends, I make my appeal to the mother of churches. In
lat mother's heart there is no petty local tyranny, no secta-
an bitterness, no wish to crush the intellect and falsify facts."
o Canon Markham proceeded to extract from Paul's writings
3me propositions and send them to Rome. '' Paul, who was
o theologian, and had, indeed, a contempt for all theology,
id not realize that the Canon had so framed the propositions
rhich were to be submitted to Rome as to make them run
irectly counter to the recognized teaching in the schools.
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388 Mrs. Wilfrid Ward's New Novel [June,
. . . Paul elected to stand or fall on an issue technically
distinct from what was present to his own mind — namely, on
the tenability of certain theological propositions." So, with
encouragement from his well-wishers everywhere, ** not only
critical scholars, but theologians and> prelates of influence and
position in France and America," Paul set out to '' strike a
blow for freedom, which should help the specialists in all coun-
tries, and emancipate the Catholic thinkers from the thraldom
of theological opinons that are outworn."
III.
After a delay in Paris, where George held a levee of his
followers, the party proceeded to Rome, by way of Milan.
"There was one new feature at Milan." " Marcelle reported
such enthusiasm for science and for faith, such confidence in
the new intellectual lights, such faith in Rome. But they were
all combative against somebody, some set of hopeless bullies,
vaguely at times called ' those in authority,' or * the theologi-
ans,' or • the piccoli monsignorini^' who would interfere. . . .
For the first time I had a feminine perception of our being
somehow complicated with political aims and objects."
On reaching Rome, Paul immediately sought to put him-
self in communication with the Cardinal of sympathetic prom-
ises. But after meeting with much evasion and shuffling, he
finally learned that the Cardinal, on finding that Paul was com-
ing, had slipped away from Rome; and the secretary really
did not know whither some of the' great man's business had
called him. After a long experience of seeming shiftiness, Paul
becomes exasperated. One of the party writes: "Three months
to-day since we have left Venice. The delays have been end-
less. For a fortnight after the time when Paul wrote to you
we could not get any date fixed for the interview with the
Assessor. Then two days before it was to qome off, it was
postponed. 'The Assessor had gone to Naples.' However, at
last Paul has been able to see him, exasperated at delay, but
still refusing to attach to it significance of a discouraging kind.
He has just come back furious, and could hardly speak. By
degrees we have got bit by bit of the following facts — first,
that the Assessor did not see him at all, but only the Domini-
can Consultor; secondly, that the Dominican strongly advised
D*Etranges simply to go back to England as his only chance
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jo6.] Mrs. Wilfrid Ward's New Novel 389
avoiding a coademaation ; thirdly, that when Paul had in-
gnantly threatened to state publicly that he had been refused
I audience with the Cardinal, the Consultor said strongly
at it was not refused, that he could obtain it from him at
ice; but that he thought it would be fatal to his cause, and
•ged him not to ask for it." The Count, however, persisted
asking for it; while George began to see that PauTs indig-
Ltion would hurry him to reprehensible excess.
In the interest of prospective readers, who might be de-
rred by this bald sketch, it must be remarked, once for all,
at in pursuing the main thread of the action, we are ruth-
ssly passing over delightful pages of description, and a well
irrated account of an excruciating heart struggle between
ich of the affianced couples. Marcelle was sacrificing all for
:r brother's soul, which she felt to be in danger, and for
hich she would do anything but sin. She watched with
owing alarm, and rebellious, shrinking pain, the strife between
m and the authorities. " They don't care," she cried one
ght, •' to help him. They go out to preach to the heathen,
make some silly beggar woman go to confession, and they
ample on a great soul and a great heart. What do they care
>out his pain, about the spoiling of his life? And if he sub-
its to them, and when they have put him back into the ranks
little nobodies, they will say supercilious things about the
Hfication he has given by his obedience." As she prayed to
t. Philip Neri she felt that he would have sympathized with
\x brother. ** It was for the love of him that Marcelle so
ved the Dominican church on the Minerva. For it was here,
hether in the church itself or in a chapel in the adjoining
mvent, that St. Philip had prayed many hours, day and night,
lat the cardinals and the theologians and, it was feared, an
ready prejudiced Pope, might not condemn Savonarola."
The official view of the situation was communicated to
eorge by the Dominican. ** He says that Paul's idea is quite
ipracticable ; things are not ripe for it. 'Let him come back
i twenty years,' he said, * when we old men are dead, and
lose who have grown up amid these controversies will be in
3wer then. We are not ready for him now; and, mind you,
e is not ready now. His ideas are great, some of them are
ue, but not so winnowed from what is not true that they
m be separated as yet.'" "Yes," commented Marcelle bit-
;rly, " let him come back in twenty years, let his life be worn
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390 Mrs. Wilfrid Ward's New Novel [June,
out, his work be hampered and despised. And then, when the
theologians have been beaten at every point, and have become
a laughing-stock to the thinkers, twenty years too late, he is
to come back; and, meanwhile, our religion is to be vilified
and thousands of souls to be lost! Vignt ans apres ! A A, man
Dieu! The puerile diplomacy, the ridiculous intriguing. I
shall go mad, I shall."
At last Paul, with his friends and his sister, obtain an in-
terview with Cardinal Mattei; but it yields nothing but suave
and empty phrases — i miei complimenti profondi. An inter-
view with the Pope follows, equally barren of satisfactory re-
sults for Paul. "The comedy in two acts is finished," said
Paul, as his friends walked silently by his side out of the
piazza in front of St. Peter's ; " it is now time for the ap-
plause." Then a kindly old priest came to his residence to
counsel patience. In a long conversation, inculcating the ne-
cessity for conservatism in progress, he enforced his advice
by telling his own story. Forty years before he, too, had been
an intellectual reformer. He, too, had come, in filial confi-
dence, to Rome in appeal against local oppression. After two
years of heart breaking neglect and delay he had been con-
demned and disgraced. In the succeeding years he had been
suspected by his brother priests, and pointedly snubbed by
his bishop. But he had gone his way in silent study amid the
seclusion of a monastery. " And why," he said at length to
Paul, " tell a story that I have never told before ? Because,
my dear Count, I am now an unwilling consultor of the Holy
Office. My opinions are such as they were forty years ago,
with the exception of a few gross errors, now abandoned by
the world at large; but time, which has rectified those errors,
has confirmed much of what I maintained then, and maintain
to-day. To-night there was brought to me a letter from you
to the Holy Office. ... In that letter you would force
the Holy Office to speak, and if it speaks it will be in the
same sense as what I read in the cloisters, on Christmas Day,
forty years ago."
The condemnation reached Paul as he was coming out of
St. Peter's. Meeting Marcelle an^ Elizabeth, he speaks with
sarcastic scorn of the condemnation and of George, whom he
believes to have shrunk from him in the face of danger. He
begs Marcelle to choose between her brother and her friends.
He will shake the dust of the Church from his feet. " Paul,
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i9o6.] Mrs. Wilfrid Ward's New Novel 391
if I come now, and I will come now, you must not mistake
me, I come, but I come as I will live and die, a Catholic.*'
And they walked away put of the lives of their disconsolate
friends — Paul to wander the world, an assailant of the Church,
Marcelle to hide herself in an old chateau of her family, in a
life consecrated to heroic service for the salvation of her
brother's soul.
Years afterwards Mrs. Sutcliffe and her husband received
news of Marcslle's death; and they paid a visit to her home,
in which they found every indication of pinching poverty.
Marcelle had died of a fever caught while waiting on the sick
poor. "The poverty was our own doing," explained a faithful
old servant. ''Monsieur, it was this way. When Monsieur le
Comte first went away, he told his lawyers that everything was
to be in the hands of Mademoiselle his sister, only she was
never to use land or money of his, in any way, for purposes
of religion ; for matters of philanthropy she was to have a free
hand, and so, milord, everybody was well off, and well cared
for, except — " he could not go on. " Monsieur, not one church
has suffered, not one lamp of the sanctuary has gone out, but
for that it needed all our money, everything we had. The
piano went once. Only his picture was left. You see, milord,
the estates are very big, and there are many poor chapels in
the forests, and in them all Mass is said constantly for the
Count."
Once again, twenty years after his condemnation, the Sut-
cliffes saw Paul. Clothed in the Dominican habit, he was in
the pulpit of Santa Maria sopra Minerva. His sermon had
been widely announced, and there was a great throng present.
After describing his appearance, Mrs. Sutcliffe continues: "What
be said was: — Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the
kingdom of heaven ; Blessed — " and the text recites the Eight
JBeatitudes. " For the rest it was very simple, very short. The
sermon was the picture of a soul. — it was the story of Marcelle ;
it was the story of one, by nature pure, by grace made meek ;
of one by nature merciful, by grace made poor in spirit ; finally
of one who, having mourned, was now comforted ; who, having
hungered after justice, now had her fill ; who, having suffered
unkindness and injustice for Christ's sake from her nearest and
dearest, now rejoiced in the very great reward of heaven. I
read the secret, and, putting my hand on George's, I knew that
he too had read it."
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392 Mrs, Wilfrid Ward's New Novel [June.
The book closes with a statement of Paul addressed to any
friends, or once fellow-workers who had not forgotten him, or
any brothers of the Christian faith who, having known a little
of his story, had given him the gift of their prayers. The
gist of the paper is that in the beginning of his activity he
had looked upon the Church as a great spiritual force, indeed,
but as a force merely of the intellect, in the region of truth,
not in the region of life. In the propagation of his ideas, love
of power and sympathy, and the instincts of a leader gradually
developed a human self-love, which caused him to resent his
condemnation. He had come to the Bride of Christ to be her
professor in philosophy and criticism. The Church had not re-
jected him, but he had rejected the Church; and in losing his
grasp on her, he lost his Christianity, even his belief in a per-
sonal God. But during the long years of his self-inflicted exile^
divine patience waited on his pride for the love of the humility
of a soul that loved him. He had learned of her sacrifices,
and, gradually, grace had won its way to his soul. Towards the
end he gives a well-known extract from Newman, ending with
the words: "Authority may be supported by a violent ultra
party {Markham et hoc genus omne) which exalts opinions inta
dogmas, and has it principally at heart to destroy every school
of thought but its own " {Apologia. P. 259). And he con*
eludes : " One word more about myself — I have been asked
why I chose the Dominicans. I was attracted to them by the
history of Lacordaire. It seemed to me that Lammenais and
Lacordaire were typical, the one of my past, the other of
what I fain would make my future, however faintly, resemble.'^
The didactic drift of Mrs. Ward is so well marked that to
append any exegesis would be an impertinence to the reader.
And now, as one is about to assign to this doubly fascinating
volume a permanent place on the book shelf, embarrassment
arises. Shall we place it in the compartment, by no means full,
marked Recent Novels of Merit ; or in the other, in which also
there is little crowding, containing the useful apologetic litera-
ture of the day? On reflection, we think its proper place is
in the latter, where it will be in no uncongenial company, under
the shadow of Problems and Persons^ and midway between Faith
of the Millions and Der Katholicistnus in Zwanzigste Jarhundert.
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flew Booke.
The arrogant materialism, or, if it
LIFE AND MATTER. prefers to hide itself under a less
By Sir Oliver Lodge. honest name, monism, which, dur-
ing the past century, heralded
itself as the accredited prophet of science to announce the pass-
ing of theism, never spoke with greater arrogance, or in a more
decisive tone of scornful dogmatism than it assumes in Pro-
fessor HaeckeTs Das Welt Rdthsel, The preposterous extrava-
gance of the German biologist's pretension to set forth, in the
name of science, his theory of the universe has been exposed
by many writers, notably by Father John Geraid, S.J. Yet it
was much to be desired that some scientist should meet Haeckel
on purely scientific grounds, and show the gratuitous and un-
scientific character of Haeckel's pretensions to formulate a com-
plete atheistic scheme of '' the whole range of existence, from
the foundations of physics to the comparison of religions, from
the facts of anatomy to the freedom of the will, from the vital-
ity of the cells to the attributes of God." This useful piece
of work was done cleanly, neatly, and effectively in two or
three articles which appeared, last year, in the Hibbert Journal^
by Sir Oliver Lodge. These papers, with some supplement and
amplification, form a volume* that, besides fulfilling its imme-
diate object, will serve as complete reply to Mr. Mallcck, and
a host of less distinguished thinkers, or writers, who, in a va-
riety of tones, ranging from deep distress to exultant jubila-
tion, declare that science has undermined the three columns of
theism — belief in God, freedom, and immortality.
The distinguished physicist shows that Haeckel's funda-
mental positions are made up of confident negations and super-
cilious denials outside the range of legitimate science; of un-
warrantable deductions from scientific principles strained be-
yond their sphere; and that the whole theory is a piece of
dogmatism woven from a fallacious synthesis of partial views
and fragmentary inductions. He first attacks Haeckel's physical
doctrine, or " Law of Substance," which bears all the weight
of the biologist's structure. He shows that in this "law"
Haeckel jumbles two different scientific concepts, the peima-
• Life and Matter, By Sir Oliver Lodge. New York : Longmans, Green & Co.
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394 New Books [June,
nence of matter, ^ and the conservation of energy; that the
latter principle, contrary to Haeckel's assertion, is not axiomatic;
and that it offers no grounds for the answers which Haeckel
gives to questions that are, at present, insoluble to science.
He then proceeds to demolish Haeckel's attempt to reduce
life and mind to a form of mere materia] energy ; afterwards,
in what is the most valuable part of his work, Professor Lodge
demonstrates that the principle of the conservation of energry,
leaves absolutely untouched the questions of free will and di-
vine direction of the universe. So, the philosopher whom his
English translator, Mr. McCabbe, who is not a scientist, rever-
ently recommended as having " a unique claim to pronounce
with authority, from the scientific side, on what is known as
the conflict between religion and science, is exhibited, in these
pages, by a scientist of the first rank, as a misleading, illog-
ical speculator, offering to the unwary as truth a mixture of
mutilated science and unsound metaphysics; '' He is, as it were,
a surviving voice, from the middle of the nineteenth century ;
he represents, in clear and eloquent fashion, opinions that were
prevalent among many leaders of thought— opinions which
they themselves, in many cases, and their successors still more,
lived to outgrow; so that by this time Professor HaeckePs
voice is as the voice of one crying in the wilderness, not as
the pioneer or vanguard of an advancing army, but as the de-
spairing shout of a standard bearer, still bold and unflinching,
but abandoned by the retreating ranks of his comrades as they
march to new orders in a fresh and more idealistic direction."
Passing from Haeckel, Professor Lodge becomes construc-
tive; at least so far as to put forth, tentatively, some consider-
ations on the nature of life, to which, in all its forms, he is
willing to grant a transcendent existence, that renders it inde-
pendent of its casual association with matter. Of life he writes :
" If it exists, if it is not mere illusion, it appears to me to be
something whose full significance lies in another scheme of
things, but which touches and interacts with this material uni-
verse in a certain way, building its particles into notable con-
figurations for a time — without confounding any physical laws;
and then evaporating whence it came." This language certainly,
as Sir Oliver Lodge himself admits, is vague and figurative.
It is sufficiently clear, however, to manifest the completeness
of the distinguished scientist's protest against the narrow dog-
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906.] NEIV BOOKS.
latism which, in the pages of Haeckel, masquerades as s
fie thought, and has passed current as such among large \
ers, here and in England, whose professed reverence for s
fie knowledge illustrates the adage, omm ignotum pro \
ifico.
Against two claims advance
MIRACLES. the name of science, by such
By Gaston Sortais. ers as MM. Gabriel Seailles
Goblot, Ferd, Buisson, and
.echer, M. Sortais, whose pen has produced many valuable p
f popular apologetics, writes the present volume.* Though
ood sense prevents them from indulging in the extravagant
latism of Professor Haeckel, these writers do not hesitate t
iime that belief in a personal God, and in the existence of
culous intervention with the laws of the universe, cannot su
1 the atmosphere created by modern science. M. Sortaii
oses, briefly and logically, the gratuitous character of thi
umption. The gist of his treatment is sufficiently indi
y the titles of his chapters : " La Providence devant la sc
loderne"; *' Le miracle devant la science moderne " ;
liracle devant la conscience moderne"; "La constitutio
liracle"; " Les miracles deLourdcs"; " Un dilerome; C
ation spontan^e ou miracle"; "Limites de la science."
uthor is especially happy in his treatment of the miracl
^ourdes, emphasizing the case of Pierre de Rudder, v
ure was of a kind for which even the most sceptical mine
ind no plausible explanation in any of the theories devise
reethinkers to account for many other miraculous manii
ions that took place at Lourdes. The chapter on the c
»f life on the earth, might have been omitted without an>
o M. Sortais' excellent apologetic. Granting that life <
lated by a special act of creation, such intervention is
lifferent footing from that which takes place in the case
hose facts which usually are understood by the term mi;
besides, as Sir Oliver Lodge's book testifies, there are scie
vho, while they repudiate the theory that life originated
he forces of matter, would reject M. Sortais' dilemma — sp
leous generation or a miracle — as incomplete and, then
nconclusive.
• La Providence et le Miracle devant la Science Modeme. Par Gaston Sortais.
Beauchesne et Cie. Pp. 190. 2/r. 50,
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396 NEW BOOKS [June,
This charming little book,* pur-
LETTERS TO A RITUALIST, porting to be a series of letters
By Best. , written in a tender, familiar style
by an English Catholic in Rome
to a ritualistic friend at home, who is in need of light and en-
couragement, though almost entirely free from the controversial
tone, is none the less likely to prove an efHcacious help to a
certain class of inquirers. It appeals more to the heart than
to the head ; and le cceur a ses raisons que la raison ne con^
nait pas. It reveals to the stranger the aspect of the Church
seen from within, and the peace of those who have sought and
found the Messias. The author strengthens his plea with many
an appeal to English sentiment, by recalling memories of the
time when his country bore the glorious title of Our Lady's
Dowry. Where the erudite historian or the skillful dialectician
may have failed, these glowing pages of a devout writer
might easily prove themselves an instrument df grace. Bossuet
expressed a general truth in the guise of a particular instance
when he said : " If you desire heretics to be refuted, bring
them to me; if you want to convert them, send them to St.
Francis de Sales."
Though this volume f has the ap-
HISTORICAL PAPERS. pearance of a book, and, in fact,
is a book as far as the labor of
printer and binder could constitute it one, the author disclaims
that designation for it. In the course of his serious historical
investigations, especially among the Reports of the Royal Com-^
mission^ he came across a great number of odds and ends, too
trifling and insignificant for the notice of the serious historian,
yet not without interest to the curiosity seeker. He now pub-
lishes, with such witty or humorous comment as we should ex-
pect from the biographer of " The Prig," a large number of
them, under such headings as: ''Births"; "Boys"; "Sons";
"Marriages"; "Courts"; "Foods"; "Drinks"; "Remedies";
"Dancing"; "Hunting, Racing, Shooting, Fishing, Cockfight-
ing"; "Military"; "Naval"; "Clerical"; "Literary"; "Elec
• Letters from the Beloved City to S. B, from Philip. By Rev. Kenelm Digby Best. Reissue.
New York: Longmans, Green & Co.
t Prying Among Private Papers : Chiefly of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries. By
the Author of A Life of Sir Kenelm Digby, New York : Longmans. Green & Co.
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9o6.] New Books 397
ons"; "Funerals"; "Ireland." Novelists in search of local
>lor for fiction, concerned with English life in the seventeenth
id eighteenth centuries, would find this volume full of sug-
estion.
This handsome, portly volume* is
MARY OF HODENA. not unworthy of the noble woman
By Martin Haile. whose fair name was, during her
life, for political ends, so foully
»persed, yet whom a tardy justice now recognizes to have been
le of the most fascinating, virtuous, and high minded of royal
omen. The author of this biography has made good use of
le wealth of materials which in recent years have become
/ailable for his purpose. His volume consists mainly of ori-
inal letters, the greater number written to or by Mary her-
ilf. They cover her whole life, from the time when, a girl of
:venteen, averse to marriage, intensely religious, she, almost
3[ainst her will, at the instance of the Pope of the time, mar-
ed a Protestant prince, over forty, a widower whose conjugal
fidelities to his first wife had been notorious. Many of the
tters are taken from the great work of the Marchesa Cam-
igna di Cavelli, Derniers Stuarts a St. Germain en Laye, who
msacked almost all the archives of Europe for whatever they
>ntained in Latin, English, French, or German, bearing on the
tuart family. The narrative even of the most gifted of his-
irians is dry, pale, and ineffectual compared to the correspond-
[ice of the persons who were the actors of the scene. As we
;ad their letters we see things from the inside; we touch the
lainsprings of action; and history, from being a dead book,
scomes a living drama enacted before our eyes. Mr. Haile
Ltisfies the most insatiable appetite for details, without failing
) give due prominence to the main currents of events; and
hile confining himself principally to the aspects of affairs as
ley related to the fortunes of the queen, he presents a fairly
>mplete account of the story of James H., and of his son, till
le mother's death. He has neglected nothing requisite to
lace in high relief the womanly virtues and high-spirited
Durage of his queenly heroine.
* Queen Mary 0/ Modena : Her Life and Letters By Martin Haile. With Photogravure
lustrations. New York ; E. P. Duiton & Co.
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398 NEW BOOKS [June,
The seven years which have
SAVONAROLA. elapsed since its first publication,
By Herbert Lucas, SJ. have solidly established the repu-
tation of the Savonarola* of Fa-
ther Lucas. It has stood the fire of criticism well; and the
author has had no reason to make any substantial changes in
this new edition. He has, however, recast the last page or two
which relate to questions arising out of the veneration paid to
the Florentine reformer by St. Philip Neri, St. Catherine de
Ricci, and St. Francis of Paula. The life of Savonarola is a
subject which it is not easy to approach with that entire free*
dom from bias and prejudice which is indispensable to good
historical work. The Catholic student finds himself in presence
of a conflict between forces that ought ever to act in har-
mony; a conflict in which divine authority was represented
by a man of infamous character; while his opponent was a
lofty, heroic soul, aflame with zeal for the house of God, de-
nouncing, with the dark wrath of a prophet, the misdeeds
of priest and people, till, hurried on, seemingly by the irre-
sistable current of events, he proceeded to measures that
laid him open to the charge of striking at the Temple itself.
This grave error put his enemies in the right and himself in
the wrong. Then came the tragic end, under circumstances so
complicated and equivocal that prepossessions alone will, too
often, determine a man in his judgment whether the fagots
were the diabolical instruments of triumphant iniquity and
personal hate, or the condign punishment of an impenitent
rebel against divinely constituted authority.
On whatever side the reader may be ranged, he must admit
that Father Lucas, together with a thorough knowledge of his
subject, and fine critical skill, has brought to his task an im-
partial temper, and tries to treat all parties and interests with
even-handed justice.
Needless to say, he is free from that myopic form of con-
servatism which holds that the interests of the Church, nowa-
days, demand that the Catholic historian should piously white-
wash every sepulchre of scandle that lies along his path. He
calls a spade a spade, and the Borgian pope "the ever infa-
mous Alexander VL" Yet he is careful to underline, through-
* Fra Ghvlamo Savonarola : A Biographual Study based on Contemporary Docmments. By
Herbert Lucas, of the Society of Jesus. Second edition. Revised. St. Louis : B. Herder.
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io6.] New Books
t his study, a double lesson, precious for our time
lings, however deplorable, of persons in power can
valid argument against the principle of authority ;
dly, the reformer, however single-minded, who alio
gnation against abuses to hurry him into rebellion
e race of those from whom comes the salvation
vonarola. Father Lucas holds, erred grievously in
e deposition of Alexander. It is true that his elect
pacy was shockingly simoniacal; and his subsequei
Ls such as to secure for him a pre-eminence even
gy of profligacy which reigned in Rome and in
ring his day. None the less, however, was he the
successor of Peter, holding the keys of the ki
aven. It was only in 1505, that Julius II., by the
n divino^ settled that, for the time to come, a
action to the papacy should be regarded as ipso fac
d incapable of revalidation by mere course of tim
juent recognition — a Bull which, as Father Lucas
d its origin in the sad memory of the election of i
r appealing from Alexander to a general council, £
sobeyed the Bull Execrabilis ; and was guilty o
nstructive schism. The terrible evils which had res
e previojs schism were fresh enough in men's t
nvince them that it was better to tolerate Alexa
run the risk of another division by attempting
n. Hence, argues Father Lucas, when Savonaroh
trial, his guilt was abundantly proved, and the papa
mers could hardly have declined to condemn hi
nalty provided for heresy and schism.
Though he gives judgment against Savonarola on
ue. Father Lucas eloquently acknowledges the noble
d the great services of the reformer. He approv
lot's assertion that the very moment of Savonaro
IS a great moral victory for him. He adds that tl
d the world owe Savonarola a great debt of grs
iving sounded his '' long-drawn and wailing blast of
allenge against all the powers of wickedness.*' H
Lvonarola's wonderful gift of prayer, his keen insigt
ndition of the Church and of society, his marvelous
^er men, ** wielded, on the whole, for the noblest <
\ calls him "a truly great and good man." "Yet"-
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400 NEW Books [Juae,
sage is a summary of the whole exposition and estimate of the
case as given by our author — " the story of his life reminds us
that even exalted gifts and noble qualities such as these may
yet be unavailing to save a man from being misled by a sub-
tle temptation into an acknowledged self-esteem, which may
end by sapping the very roots of obedience, by luring him on-
wards till at last he makes private judgment — in matters of
conduct, if not of doctrine — the court of final appeal. And when
this point has been reached, only two issues are possible if the
conflict has become acute : spiritual ruin, or temporal disaster.
It was, perhaps, well for Fra Girolamo that temporal disaster
overtook him, and that his baptism of fire came to him in time.
The life story of Girolamo Savonarola is, in fact, in the truest
and fullest sense, a tragedy. For the very essence of tragedy
lies in this that, under stress of critical circumstances, some
fiaw in a noble character leads by steps, slow perhaps, but sure,
to a final catastrophe, and that in and through the catastrophe
itself that which was imperfect or faulty is, as it were, purged
out, while that which was noble survives in the mind and
memory of men, and does its work more effectively than it
would have done had there been no catastrophe to arouse and
waken sympathy."
The author takes notice of some criticisms of the late Fa-
ther O'Neill, and of others that appeared in the Irish Rosary^
on his first edition. The copious bibliography is enlarged. For
outsiders repelled, and for Catholics perplexed, by the spectacle
of historical scandals in the Church, for the impatient who
clamor for a violent, instantaneous correction of abuses, and
sweeping away of methods that have survived their usefulness,
or ideas that have been outgrown. Father Lucas has provided
a valuable study.
This volume* covers forty fateful
POLITICAL HISTORY OF years of English history, from the
ENGLAND. accession of George III. till the
resignation of Pitt in 1801. It is
the work of an industrious, conscientious, erudite compiler,
rather than of an original historian. To him no name is too
obscure, no incident too trifling for notice. His firm grip on
the main lines, and a fine sense of proportion, enable the au-
• The Political History of England. Vol. X. New York: Longmans, Green & Co.
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1906.] NEW BOOKS 401
thor to pursue a lucid relation amid an accumulation of details
that might easily have become chaotic. The estimates offered
of particular events and crises indicate a controlling desire to
be fair-minded and impersonal. They usually help the reader
to keep his eye upon the general trend of political develop-
ment. There is, however, no masterly display of the philoso-
phic power, that marks the great historians, to measure and
define the steady direction of the onward flow of the tide under
the changing and often contrary currents of the surface. Ameri-
can readers, who are accustomed to take their history from na-
tives, will find instruction in noting the effect of a change of
standpoint. They will receive notice of that change on find-
ing that they are invited to listen to the history, not of the
war of independence, but of . the colonial rebellion. And, as
they follow the expositor, they will be asked to consider, not
why Washington triumphed, but why Bufgoyne and Howe
failed. But they will have no grounds for imputing misrepre-
sentation to him; and' they will easily pardon his sympathies,
and even his fling at '' the crude assertions of the Declaration
of Independence, issued by a body largely composed of slave-
owners, that all men are created equal, with an inalienable
right to liberty." The author has a very kindly feeling to-
wards George III., and would certainly have been a very cor-
dial supporter of royal and parental authority during the
struggle between the king and his graceless heir.
In his account of the American struggle, 9nd in the Whig
and Tory conflicts, Mr. Hunt manifests his confidence in John
Fiske and Sir George Trevelyan. He has followed Lecky still
more faithfully. On one point, however, he differs from the
Irish historian. A resolute though not effusive admirer of Pitt,
he endeavors to exculpate him for his failure to keep his
promise made, before the Union, relative to Catholic emanci-
pation. He believes that, in the face of the king's obstinate
religious prejudices, Pitt was exonerated from the pledge he
had given to the Catholic bishops who helped to carry the
Act of Union ; and that, by resigning, he did all that lay in
his power towards insisting on his policy. The author is at
his best in Chapter XIII., where he recalls John Richard
Greene, by a rapid, sketchy, yet accurate survey of the social
and economic progress of the period. That there is not a simi-
VOL. LXXXIII.— 26
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402 New Books [June,
lar chapter on religious and ethical development reflects signifi-
cantly, either on the manner in which the historian has dis-
charged his task, or on John Bull's pretension to be the most
moral and religious personage in Europe.
To a fairly well-informed clergy-
SIR JOHN GILBERT. man, with an Irish name, who
By Rosa Hulholland. could, at a moment's notice, pro-
duce a creditable synopsis of Irish
political history for the past half-century, a friend, picking up
this volume,* isaid: "Here is a Life of Sir John Gilbert^ by
his wife." "Oh," was the reply, "that is the Pinafore fellow,
who married the Irish novelist, Rosa Mulholland." "The man
who married Rosa Mulholland, sister of I^dy Russell of Kil-
lowen, indeed; but not *the Pitiafote fellow.' Instead, one
of the foremost literary Irishmen of his generation, who has
done more than any other man of our day for Irish history,
and who helped to start the present Gaelic revival." " Never
heard of him before," was the blank response.
Thousands of persons in America, interested in Irish af-
fairs, might make the same confession. Yet, for a long life-
time. Sir John Gilbert devoted, with unflagging zeaU uncom-
mon talents to Irish history and archaeology, with the patriotic
purpose of clearing his country of much calumny and misrep-
resentation. The purpose which animated him is expressed in
a remark he once made regarding the apathy of Irishmen con-
cerning their history — an apathy that is passing away. "One
day to come," he said, "they will wake up and look round
for the authentic facts of their history, and I will work while I
live to provide for that day."
Unknown to the political arena, he was a thorough patriot,
who performed a signal service for his country. After finish-
ing one of his chief works, the History of the Irish Confederal
tion, he could say with truth: "They will never be able to
blacken the period again." The character of his work, history
and archaeology, pursued in scientific fashion, while it gave him
high rank among scholars, did not popularize his name. Even
when he had established a brilliant reputation, a ludicrously
^ Life of Sir John Gilbert, LL,D„ F,S,A,; Irish historian and archivist, Vice-President
of the Royal Irish Academy, Secretary of the Public Record Office of Ireland. By his wife,
Rosa Mulholland Gilbert. New York: Longmans, Green & Co.
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i9o6.] New Books 4oj
false impression concerning him prevailed in circles of his
countrymen that ought to have been better informed. A pas-
sage from the biography will illustrate: ''About this time (in
the seventies) he began to find his position in his work some-
what anomalous. His name, his outward surroundings and as-
sociations, placed him in unreal lights from the different points
of view of various critics or mere careless observers. While
facing the fire of the eneiny on one side, he was looked on
coldly from a distance by many on the other. A letter re-
mains, written to him by a priest, his friend, relating, with
humor, a recent conversation with a Catholic dignitary whom
he had met on the street, and greeted with ' Have you seen
Gilbert's latest book?' 'Read Gilbert?' cried the Catholic
dignitary, *I would not read a word the fellow writes. He is
a Protestant and a bigoted Trinity College man.'"
Lady Gilbert has discharged her task with excellent taste.
Copious correspondence, embracing letters from scholars, his-
torians, archaeologists, Irish Franciscans in Rome and in Portu-
gal, noblemen, and public officials, enliven the narrative, and,
incidentally, bear witness to the conscientious, painstaking
methods of the historian, and the reputation for erudition and
accuracy which these methods gained for him. The curtain
that screens the sanctities of domestic life is drawn aside just
enough to give us a glimpse of a fine, noble, sunny gentleman,
an earnest Catholic, of high culture and simple tastes, ambi-
tious only of a competence sufficient to guarantee him the op-
portunity to prosecute his work of study and composition,
which he loved, not for the fame that it brought him, but for
itself.
Amid the almost universal wail,
THE CHURCH IN FRANCE* so bewildering to American ears.
By Le Narfou* that goes up from France because
the shackles which bound the
Church to the State are broken, and the clergy, henceforth,
must depend for their support upon their flocks, as in the days
of the Apostles, here comes one clear call more in harmony
with the traditions of French courage and generosity. The
author of Vers i*£glise Libre^^ whose history of the last con-
• Vers r^glist Libre, Par Julicn de Narfou. Paris : Nourrcy.
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404 NEW BOOKS [June,
clave attracted wide notice, is well known in the higher ranks
of journalism. With a wide circle of acquaintances and friends
among public men, lay and ecclesiastical, in both France and
Italy, together with an intimate knowledge of the historic side
of his subject, his discussion of affairs is piquant, vital, and
searching. It may be that he presumes too much when, as a
good citizen and a staunch Catholic, he claims the right, though
a layman, to express his opinion on the present crisis between
Church and State. Even so, in the present perplexing condi-
tion of affairs, no honest, intelligent views can be without value
to those weighted with the tremendous responsibility of steer-
ing the French Church through the perilous straits in which
she is now tossing.
Writing before the final rupture, M. Narfou said that the
Concordat was dead : " Jam fcetet. It deserves few tears or
regrets, or posthumous honors. From its tomb, let people
say, or wish, or do what they may, the liberty of the Church
will spring." In a brief, incisive fashion he reviews the rela-
tion of the Church and the State in France, from the days of
Francis I. up to the Revolution ; and he shows that even in
the halcyon days of the ancien regime the Church paid dearly
for protection. The power accorded to Cssar in the things
that are God's gave rise to Gallicanism. It created an episco-
pate so completely enthralled to the throne that — M. Narfou
borrows the words from an address of the French bishops to
Louis XIV. — " it lived with its knees bent and its eyes turned
towards that source from which flow all grace and favor."
The origin of the Concordat, the negotiations through
which it was born, are reviewed in detail, and the scope of its
articles defined. It was, contends M. Narfou, a strictly bi-
lateral contract. It conferred on the government a joint right
with the Pope in the appointment of bishops. If the two
powers shared the right to appoint, one alone, in defiance of
the other, could not cancel such appointment. Hence it bound
the Pope not to withdraw the spiritual powers of a bishop
without the consent of the government, even though the in-
terest of souls demanded such a proceeding. This was absurd,
and essentially unjust, M. Narfou argues, but it was the Con-
cordat.
The most pernicious practical results of the scheme, he
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 405
contends, enforcing bis views with ample confirmation from the
days of the Second Empire and afterwards, was that political
influences made themselves too much felt in spiritual affairs.
The dependence of the bishops obliged them, too often, in th<
government of their dioceses, to keep a respectful eye on gov-
ernment officials, and on men of weight in politics, when theji
should have had a single eye to the welfare of souls. . The
zeal of the petit clerge, in turn, suffered contraction and dim«
inution of force from the same causes. If a cur^ undertook
any work, outside of his sacristy, for the welfare of his peo-
ple, a word from some jealous, suspicious official or politician
to Monseigneur, was enough to have the cure removed, and al
avenues of promotion closed to him.
The book concludes with a ringing chapter that prophesiei
for the Church, at length free with the freedom of the Gos-
pel, a stronger and more prolific life. M. Narfou indignantly
repels, as an insult to Catholicism, the notion that it cannot
stand on its own legs, and must lean for protection on the
State : '' The strange conception of a Church which affirms as
El double dogma the divinity of its origin and the immortality
of its destiny, and yet cannot flourish without State protec
tion — this is a self- contradictory conception that was entirely
unknown to Christ, to the Apostles, and to the first Christiar
:ommunities." The new era, if M. Narfou's forecast shall be
happily verified, will see a higher standard of education in the
semraaries, a waning of some tendencies to exaggerated exter-
ualism in certain pious practices, an extinction of temptation
to aspirants to the priesthood to embrace and prosecute the
clerical cateer from motives of unworthy personal ambition.
The clergy will be freer to go to the people, and the masses^
the poor and the humble folk, will no longer have any excuse
for suspecting their spiritual fathers of being unduly subservi-
ent to mammon or aristocracy. One could wish that M. Nar-
Fou had somewhat chastened the vigor of the language in
which he expresses his convictions; and some will question
the propriety of leveling imputations of simony against exaltec
personages, still living and clothed with responsibility, like Mgr
Lorenzelli ; especially when, on M. Narfou's own showing, the
highest authority has adjudicated on the case.
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4o6 New Books [June,
The writer who gave novel readers
YOLANDA. a treat in Dorothy Vernon, with its
By Charles Major. picture of a high spirited English
girl, has gone much further afield
for his subject* on this occasion. But Caelum non animam
mutaviL The daughter of Charles the Bold bears a much
closer family resemblance to Dorothy than one would expect
in a princess of the fifteenth century. And he asks us to
treat historical probability very lightly, when he tells us how
the heir of the Hapsburgs, after setting out incognito for the
Burgundian court to see the heiress of the redoubtable duke,
actually falls in with that sprightly young lady, who, far from
home, is masquerading as the niece of a traveling merchant.
But we must treat Mr. Major with as much consideration as we
show to surly old Euclid, and, let it be granted, etc. Then,
provided one is not so fastidious as to expect the local flavor
of the Middle Ages, to which Sir Walter Scott treats us in
Quentin Durward, we may enjoy a very entertaining story in
this book; Mr. Major, wisely declining to rival Sir Walter by
painting Louis of France, whom he leaves in the background,
has tried his hand, not unsuccessfully, on Louis' antagonist,
Charles. Nor has he yielded to the temptation of describing
the bloody days of Morat and Nancy. The book is above
the average of present-day romantic fiction, and will be en-
joyed by those who love to read of the days when knight-
hood was in flower. By the way, it would not demand much
historical study to prevent Mr. Major from fancying that the
Knights of St. John were half priests, and " could, upon occa-
sion, hear confession and administer the sacrament." Blunders
like this are disgraceful.
The June number of The Lamp\ will be devoted entirely
to St. Peter and the Holy See. "St. Peter in the Gospels";
"The Popes and the Prominence of St. Peter"; "The See of
Canterbury and St. Peter's See"; are among the subjects to
be discussed.
* Yolanda, Maid of Burgundy. By Charles Major. New York: The Macmillan Company,
t The Lamp, Published monthly at Garrison, N. Y. Five cents the copy. Yearly, 50
cents.
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 40
The International Catholic Truth Society makes its appe^
to our readers to remail each week or months after readinj
:heir Catholic newspapers and magazines to poor Catholics an
veil-disposed non-Catholics all over the United States, bi
particularly in the West and South. This way of spreadin
[i^atholic truth, and keeping alive the Faith among isolate
Catholics, means the salvation of hundreds of souls, while it
:ost in thought, time, and money is but trifiing and withi
he power of the humblest as well as the richest and mos
earned.
' Any one desirous of letting others read The Catholi
yVoRLD will be supplied with an address for remailing by com
nuniqating with Remailing Department, International Catholi
fruth Society, Arbuckle Building, 373 Fulton Street, Brooklyi
NOTE.
We regret the non- appearance in this number of Th]
Catholic World, of the advertised article by Reginald Bal
our. The subject which was to be discussed by Mr. Balfou
If ill be treated in a subsequent number of The Catholk
iVoRLD. — Editor.
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Current JSvents.
The long expected, and for a time
Russia* almost despaired of, parliamentary
era has opened for Russia. With
great pomp and ceremony the sittings of the Duma have begun,
the speech from the Throne has been delivered, and at the
present time the members are discussing their reply.
It was not granted to Count Witte and his Cabinet to be
the representatives 6f the monarch in the new Assembly. Like
Moses, the Count having led the people to the borders of the
chosen land, was not allowed to bring them into it. Whether
he resigned of his own accord, or whether he was dismissed
against his will, is not certain. Although he has made many
grave mistakes, and although the strange proposal, said to
have been laid by him before the Tsar just before the Duma
met, rendered his retention of power impossible, there is no
doubt that to him Russia is indebted for the immense step in
advance which the calling of a Duma involves. If the truth
as to recent events in Russia has been revealed at all, it was
by him that the Tsar was persuaded to issue the Manifesto of
October 30, which forms the starting point of the constitu-
tional era upon which it is just entering. The repressive meas-
ures which have been taken in the meantime were, in a great
degree, necessitated by the revolutionary party and the action
taken by it. To some extent even the moderate men, the rep-
resentatives of the Zemstvos, are responsible, for they refused to
co-operate with Count Witte and made demands which, how-
ever reasonable and desirable they may have been in them-
selves, the Tsar could not be prevailed upon to concede.
The necessity to make use of repression for the purpose of
restoring order after the revolutionary uprisings in Moscow and
elsewhere last autumn, and the want of success in securing the
defeat of the Constitutional Democratic candidates in the elec-
tions for the Duma which have just taken place, seem to have
shaken Count Witte's faith in the good sense of the people.
He therefore, it is said, proposed that before the Duma met,
new, immutable, organic laws should be promulgated, laws of
such a character as to deprive the people's representatives of
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;o6.] Current Events
\y initiative. Strange to say, were it not that Russi
f the countries where what happens is the unexpec
sar would not listen to these proposals. He decla
le project was unseemly, because it violated the solem;
es contained in the Manifesto of October 30; unwise,
3 fundamental law$ could acquire permanence unless
jT the nation; and dangerous, because the very prom
r such laws would be tantamount to setting the Dum^
since. His wish, the Tsar is reported to have said, \
le government should be conducted in an orderly
id that the country might have peace; and, there
ould not do anything to compromise himself with his
If such are the Tsar's real and permanent principles
ead of being ruled by officials and seeking to please 1
Eis the best interests of the nation as a whole at hear
illing to listen to its voice in furthering those interes
a will now be entering upon the road of peace and ]
y. Hints, however, are thrown out that there were ot
>ns for the dismissal of Count Witte, that the persona
f the Tsar and court intrigue had much to do with
ict that his successor, M. Goremykin, is, so far as is
ot in favor of the steps recently taken, and that on
\ the opening of the Duma fundamental laws were> s
ctually promulgated, and that these laws limited the
f the Duma, prevent full confidence beiiig placed
iler's wisdom and good will. The fundamental laws
ere promulgated just before the Duma met, while on
and they made it a permanent and unassailable ini
f the Empire, and enacted that all Ukases and On
hould be countersigned by the respective ministers,
ther hand placed numerous restrictions upon its powers,
nd war are retained in the hands of the Tsar, as
omplete control of the army and of the number of
scruits. Even the budget does not fall within the po
le lower House of the Duma, The Senate — a judicial
i made the judge of the constitutionality of the laws
y the National Legislature. These restrictions are y
ere; they will, however, last only so long as the natic
f its representatives in the Duma make a wise use
cowers which they have already secured, if they rem
ervice to the country, their power and influence wil
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410 Current Events [June,
and the limitations will either be removed or. become merely
nominal. This is the question which is left to the future to
settle. Humanly speaking, it may seem impossible that a body,
of peasants, and of, at the best, inexperienced men, who have
for centuries been brutalized by rulers that have found in Peter
the Great their model, should act with moderation and should
not attempt to destroy the whole fabric of government under
which they have been so unjustly treated. To this they will
be goaded by the interested supporters of the present regime^
who are anxious to drive their opponents to extremes, and
thereby to find an excuse for suppressing the Duma. Russia
at the present time is a whirlpool of incoherent forces. While
there are parties in name, there are none in reality. A party
in Russia is merely a group of individuals, acting together
to-day, as likely as not actively opposing one another to-
morrow. The dominant group— ^^e Constitutional Democrats,
who have secured the victory at the recent elections, and
in whose hands the destiny of the Duma lies — is made up of
men holding many different opinions. There are Sodal Demo-
crats, Social Revolutionists, Extreme Radicals, Radicals, Mod-
erate Liberals, and fair-minded. Conservatives. It has the
advantages, however,, of being controlled by a Committee. If
this control continues to hold the various elements together
for common action, good hopes may be entertained of the
Duma*s future. Its members will learn to subordinate their
own wishes for the public good. They will learn moder-
ation — not to seek for things which, although good in them-
selves, are yet too good for the crown to be willing to grant
at once. As a well-informed writer says: "The first duty of
the first Duma is to strengthen the hold of parliamentary in-
stitutions on the country, and that can be accomplished only
by the exercise of moderation bordering upon sacrifice and
wisdom. If an acute conflict break out between crown and
Duma, before the people has grown accustomed to representa-
tive government, the result may be to put off the realization
of democratic principles in Russia for years." Universal suf-
frage, equal rights for the Jews, the abolition of capital pun-
ishment, a new distribution of land among the peasants, an
eight-hour day, a complete amnesty for political prisoners —
these are the questions which will be discussed in the coming
session.
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K)6.] Current Events 411
Before the Duma met, the Tsar issued, upon his own author-
r, the Ukase for the authorization of a new Loan. This was
^posed by those who were in favor of a Duma, as an infringe-
ent of its rights. The rest of Europe, however, seemed to
ink the security adequate, for the loan was subscribed several
nes over in the various countries in which it was issued. While
e larger part was allotted to France, for the first time for
any years a part was issued in England; and as this was well
ken up, it is looked upon as a sigvi of that drawing nearer
gether of the two countries which it is said is being nego-
ited. Another sign of the rapprochement between England
d Russia is found in the fact that Russia supported England
the recent resistance to Turkey's aggression upon Egypt.
England and Russia can come to an agreement, and there-
' settle their differences with reference to Persia, Afghanistan,
d Tibet, a great weight will be taken off the minds of the
izens of the two countries.
Count Witte's nominal colleague, but real opponent, M.
irnovo, shared his fate and has passed into retirement, greatly
the delight of the whole country. The relinquishment of the
inistry of Foreign Affairs by Count Lamsdorff is, on the other
nd, greatly regretted, for to his tact and prudence during the
jsso -Japanese War are largely due the preservation of peace
d the avoidance of complications. Little is known of the new
inisters who make up M. Goremykin's Cabinet, nor do they
seem, so far as is known, to be of one mind.
''At the moment when, with the
Germany* consent of your most gracious
Sovereign, I am sending to Count
elsersheimb the Grand Cross of the Order of the Red Eagle,
thanks for his successful efforts at Algeciras, I feel impelled
express to you from my heart my sincere thanks for your
ishakable support of my representatives, a fine deed of a true-
arted ally. You have proved yourself to be a brilliant sec-
id on the duelling ground, and you may be certain of similar
rvice in similar case from me also. — William Imp. Rex."
lis telegram, addressed by the Kaiser to the Austro-Hungarian
inister for Foreign Affairs, Count Goluchowski, has called
rth no little comment, especially in Austria and in Italy. In
e former country it was felt that Austria's dignity as an in-
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412 Current events [June,
dependent power :had been depreciated by the Kaiser's declara-
tion that her representatives had acted merely as a second to
those of Germany at the Morocco Conference. It was in Italy,
however, that the strongest feeling was manifested, for many
thought that the promise of a "similar service in a similar
case " was aimed at her. For Italy, although a member of the
Triple Alliance, had failed, it was thought in Germany, in render-
ing that support to her ally which was her due. The claims
of Italy in the Balkans and on the East coast of the Adriatic
form one of the open questions which prevent perfect agree-
ment between Italy and Austria. The Kaiser is presumed to
have had this matter in his mind in sending the telegram, and
to have promised to Austria his support as a punishment for
Italy's presumption in the event of the question being raised.
Whether this interpretation is the true one or not, a violent
warfare broke out between various sections of the Press of the
two countries, in which unpleasant remarks were made. For
example, the Berliner Tageblatt informed its readers that '*it
would be well to bear in mind in Italy that we Germans, come
what may, are firmly determined to set the tone on the Euro-
pean Continent, or at least in Central Europe." The question
of the Triple Alliance was also raised. This called forth from
the Italian Foreign Minister a declaration in Parliament to which
we shall refer in its proper place.
A bill has been brought into the Reichstag for the pay-
ment of its members. The salaries proposed are not (measured
by our standards) very large. The reason for the proposed
payment is that, as things are, there is often great difficulty
in securing a quorum. The German system of government is,
under a constitutional disguise, still somewhat of a despotism.
The Kaiser appoints his own Ministers, nor are they responsi-
ble to Parliament. They hold office so long as they please
his Imperial and Royal Majesty, however displeasing they may
be in the eyes of the representatives of the people. Conse-
quently, there is no career open to those representatives as a
reward of their services. They cannot hope qua members of
Parliament to become Ministers of State. There are not, there-
fore, the usual inducements which exist in a strictly constitu-
tionally organized country, to make them devote themselves to
the labor involved in a constant attendance in Parliament. It
is, therefore, sought by payment to secure better attention.
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j9o6.] Current Events 413
The financial exigencies of Germany call for not merely an
increase in taxation, but also (or new loans amounting to sev*
enty-five millions of dollars for Prussia and sixty- eight for the
Empire. If the confidence in the government felt by Germans
is measured by the readiness with which they subscribe to its
loans, the result indicates a diminution of that confidence.
Last year's issue was subscribed fifteen times over, while this
year's was subscribed only one and one half times. It must,
however, be borne in mind that this year's loans were both
larger in amount and subject to prior claims. The result, how-
ever, makes the National-Zeitung ask what would have been
the fate of a war loan, the amount of which would of ne-
cessity have been incomparably greater, when, while at peace,
it has not been found easy to raise a small sum.
The great advance made in commerce by Germany is a
matter of world wide knowledge. Within the past few weeks
still further developments have taken place. In addition to the
two regular services between Germany and the Far East, which
have existed for some time, a third service, which has hitherto
been intermittent, has now become regular. An entirely new
service between Scandinavian ports and Australia is on the
point of being established. The Hamburg American line is
on the point of invading the Persian Gulf; the Hansa Line is
building four large steamers for the East Asiatic service ; while
to the west coast of our own continent another German com-
pany has sent its fitst steamer, to be followed by others in
the event of success. A complete account of the immense
advances made by Germany during the past decade will be
found in a public statement submitted by the Ministry of Ma-
rine to the German Reichstag. From this, among other things,
we learn that since the foundation of the Empire its popula-
tion has increased by nearly 20,000,000, from a little less than
41,000,000 to a little over 60,000,000. Its rate of increase is
now greater than that of any of the larger European States,
being over 800,000 annually, and is surpassed only by the rate
of increase of the population of the United States Formerly
emigration was greater than immigration; since 1895 ^he re-
verse is the case. Between 1894 and 1904 the total value
of the German foreign trade rose 66 per cent in value,, from
some 18 billions to some 30 billions. These facts explain the
necessity for the increase of the German navy as a means of
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414 Current Events [June,
protecting this ever- increasing commerce, and render it prob-
able that this increase is not directed against England, at least
necessarily.
In Hungary the elections for the
Austria-Hungary. new Parliament, which is to pass
the universal suffrage Bill, have
been held and have resulted in the victory of the Independence
Party. This party now holds an absolute majority in the new
Hungarian Chamber. Of the total of 413 seats, it has secured
210, while 62 seats have been won by the Constitutional party,
24 by the Clericals, 12 by the Rumanes, 8 by the Slovaks, and
4 by the Serbs. Not a single seat is held by the Liberals,
the party which for some two score years has had almost ab-
solute sway and uncontrolled possession of power. This party
has, in fact, ceased to exist, having formally disbanded itself.
Its leader. Count Stephan Tisza, who a short time ago en-
deavored, by almost violent means, to put an end to the ob-
struction which had for so long been practised by the parties
who Are now masters of the situation, has retired into private
life. With him has departed the Dual Compact of 1867, for
the all powerful Independence party looks merely to a per-
sonal union — the ideal of 1848. Will the possession of power
render more sober the former apostles of disruption ?
The other striking feature of the .recent elections has been
the strength manifested by the other nationalities which are
represented in the Transleithan House, the Slovaks, the Ru-
manes, the Serbs. Hitherto they have been without a voice,
and they are still in an insignificant minority. It remains to
be seen how the Magyars, who have been so eloquent and so
energetic in the maintenance of their own national claims, will
deal with the demands of these smaller nationalities.
Austria itself has had its own ministerial crisis. The uni-
versal suffrage bill, introduced by Baron Gautsch, made vari-
ous readjustments of the distribution of seats among the vari-
ous nationalities, of which the Reichsrath is made up. Of
these the Poles form one of the most influential. The arrange-
ments proposed did not please them ; Baron Gautsch thereupon
resigned. This resignation does not involve the abandonment of
universal suffrage altogether ; only the details will be changed.
The Emperor, in accepting Count Gautsch's resignation, de-
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i9o6.] Current Events 415
Glares it to be a great reform, by his association with which
the Baron's name will be always remembered.
The new Premier is Prince Conrad zu Hohenlohe Schill-
ingsfiirst, a nephew of the late German Chancellor. He is only
43 years of age, but has a large and varied experience of ad-
ministrative work, and has everywhere enjoyed great popular-
ity, having always endeavored to harmonize the duties of the
executive with the wants of the people. Although he is an
aristocrat by birth, he is a Radical in politics, and his appoint
ment is agreeable to the Social Democrats. It has brought
dismay to the Czechs, who were expecting valuable concessions
from Baron Gautsch, while naturally to the Germans it is a
welcome appointment. The end of the racial feuds, which dis-
tract the Austrian empire, by the treatment of all the many
races with equal justice, is the pressing problem for the Aus-
trian Premier; whether he will be able satisfactorily to solve
it remains to be seen.
The German Emperor's telegram
Italy. to Count Goluchowski caused, as
we have said, much comment es-
pecially in Italy. By some it was taken as an intimation that
it was the wish of the Kaiser that nothing should be decided
without his permission, and he was given to understand that
no such permission would be sought. The German political
methods, it was said, were becoming brutal. The German Press
responded in kind, and Italy was reminded that, as she owed
her unity and independence mainly to German policy, she had
more reason than any other Power of the Triple Alliance for
retaining the potent friendship of that country. '' If she thinks,
however, that to become the satellite of France and England
will pay her better than that old policy — very well, she will
see what she will see."
The question of the Triple Alliance having been raised.
Count Guicciardini, the Minister for Foreign Affairs in the
Italian Ministry, felt it his duty to make the government's
position plain. He defined it to be one of cordial fidelity to
the Alliance, and asserted that it was the basis of the foreign
policy of Italy, a policy which has proved a sure foundation
for a quarter of a century of tranquillity and peace. The tra-
ditional intimacy with England and the sincere friendship with
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41 6 CURREJ^T EVENTS [June,
France which existed, and which had of late been confirmed
and strengthened, did not interfere with the binding character
of the Triple Alliance ; nor did that Alliance prevent the
making of special agreements with other powers, such as the
agreement with France as to the Mediterranean or with Aus-
tria as to Albania and the Adriatic. Still le^s, he implied, al-
though he did not say so in express terms, was Italy bound
by the Alliance to be the second of Germany on duelling
grounds, whether at Algeciras or elsewhere. . The ieeling, how-
ever, is widespread that the Triple Alliance is rather a bond
and a burden than a help and protection, and that it would
not be renewed if the question of such renewal were to arise
at the present time.
The eruption of Vesuvius has called forth from every part
of the world expressions of sympathy for its victims. The
Pope himself, it was said, wished to go and visit the scene
and to minister to the sufferers. This, of course, was imprac-
ticable; but his Holiness sent all the money upon which he
could lay hands, in order to relieve the sufferings. The King,
it is only fair to say, manifested by personal services to the
victims his wonted goodness .of heart. On his visit to Milan,
to open the International Exhibition, the Cardinal Archbishop
was among those distinguished citizens who welcomed him to
the city. On a subsequent day, when the foundation stone of
a new railway station was laid, the Cardinal made a speech
which is said to have been a little sermon on the text : " Fear
God and honor the King."
The strikes which originated in the
France. Courrieres disaster spread rapidly
through many parts of France.
Great sympathy was at the beginning felt for the miners, for
it was clear that they were greatly underpaid and there is
ample evidence for the belief that the precautions taken by the
mine-owners to guard against accidents were wholly inadequate.
This question has been referred to a Commission to investigate,
and there is every reason to think that the truth will be brought
to light. Concessions of pay were offered, but these were re-
jected as inadequate. On the refusal of their demands of a
minimum wage of one dollar and ten cents a day, the miners
proceeded to violence. Trains were attacked, rails pulled up,
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i9o6. } Current E vents 417
dyaamite placed in the houses of non-strikers, the homes 01
employers burned down and pillaged, the troops and gendarmes
attacked with stones, and one of the officers so severely injured
that he subsequently died. This is all the more to be regretted,
for the soldiers had been instructed not to offer violence to the
strikers, and had, in fact, manifested their reluctance to be em-
ployed in such duties. There is reason to think that these dis-
turbances were promoted by anarchists. The government affected
the belief that the parties which are supposed to be friendly to
the Church had a share in promoting the disturbances. They
proceeded to carry out a series of domiciliary searches, enter-
ing the houses of the suspected in the dead of night and seiz-
ing their private papers. The papers found in the house of a
certain Comte Durand de Beauregard seemed to indicate that
a coup de force was being prepared ; his friends, however, de*
clare that the bad state of his health was so well known that
it was odious to take advantage of it in such a way. Various
other arrests took place, in consequence of the domiciliary
visits.
Before the end of the month of April the greater firmness
shown by the government, and certain concessions made by
the employers, had induced the greater number of strikers
to return to work. The gravest apprehensions had been en-
tertained with reference to the First of May celebrations.
Some years ago this day had been declared an International
holiday for the workers of the world. Its celebration has of
late fallen somewhat into abeyance. The French workingmen,
it was anticipated, would, on account of the widespread agita-
tion prevailing in so many parts — that of the miners in the
North, of the postmen in Paris, of iron-workers, glass-blowers,
printers, and even waiters in the caf^s elsewhere — make a great
effort to revive the celebration this year, and make it an occa-
sion for the enforcement of their demands. Special precautions
were taken, especially in Paris, but the day passed off without
any serious breach of the peace. In all, in Paris 668 persons
were arrested, of whom 53 were foreigners. Thirteen police-
men, three Republican guards, and twelve agitators were more
or less seriously hurt. This is not a very serious record, in
view of what was anticipated.
The first ballot for the members of the Assembly took place
^ _ VOL. Lxxxiii.— 27
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4i8 Current events [)«»«•
on the sixth of May. The result has proved a great disap-
pointment for those who hoped that there would be an upris-
ing of the Catholic electors against the members of the former
Assembly who passed the Separation Law. So far is this from
being the case, that the supporters of that measure are re-
turned to power in greater numbers, and it is even being said
that M. Combes may become the Premier once more. Of the
427 elected on the first ballot, 262 belong to the Republican
groups of the Left, that is to say, the Socialists, the Radicals,
and the Republicans who voted for the Separation Law. The
opposition numbered 165. The result of the second day's bal-
loting, on May 20, proved again an overwhelming victory for
the bloc. The Electors of France, as is clear from their votes,
are indifferent as to the union of the Church with the State,
and at least acquiesce in the separation.
The Sultan of Morocco has signified his willingness to ac-
cept the conclusions reached at Algeciras with some slight
reservations. He finds nothing in them that touches the integ-
rity of the country, or that diminishes his own sovereign au-
thority. For those who were hoping that the horrible state of
things in Morocco might be ameliorated, the Sultan's appro-
bation of the results of the Conference is the destruction of
that hope.
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foreign Iperiobicale.
Tke Tablet (21 April): A translation of the Holy Father's
Apostolic Letter on Scripture study is given in this
number. The Pope considers that the Biblical Ques-
tion has never, perhaps, been of such importance as it
is to-day; and consequently it is absolutely necessary
that young clerics be assiduously trained in this branch
of sacred knowledge.-^— A letter to the Editor asks :
" In view of various press notices and surmises, would
you mind stating once for all that it is not true that
Father Tyrrell has joined the archdiocese of San Fran-
cisco; nor a 'certain diocese in Scotland'; nor that on
leaving the Jesuits he applied in vain to all the Bishops
in England; nor that he has applied to any Bishop
whatsoever; nor that he has any momentary hesitation
as to the rectitude and necessity of the step which he
has taken; nor that he will ever reconsider his verdict;
nor that he has no definite plans for the future; nor
that he has been suspended on account of his writirgs;
nor that his attitude toward Catholicism has been in any
way modified ; nor that he has become an Anglican, a
Unitarian, or a Positivist ; • nor that he is very ill, or
prostrate, or otherwise than most uninterestingly well
and cheerful. He must, of course, be most gratified by
the general concern shown in his personal affairs ; but
for the sake of his friends' feelings a little reserve would
be desirable."
(28 April): The death of the Rev. Robert F. Clarke,
D.D., is announced. Father Clarke had long been known
as a man of solid learning, more especially in Biblical
matters. His appointment as member of the Biblical
Commission shows that his merits were recognized by
the highest authorities. Obituary notices also of the
Rev. Fr. Luis Martin Garcia, General of the Society of
Jesus, and Mgr. Francesco Ciocci, Canon of the Lateran,
The Month (May) : Father Sydney Smith says it will always
remain a mystery how Mr. Birrell, while undertaking to
assault modern religious endowments, should at the same
time condemn the injustice of the Reformation which
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420 Foreign Periodicals [June,
took away all that was then possessed by Catholics as
the fruit of the labor and sacrifice of centuries. ^The
Editor writes to say that while science can never affect
the foundations of religion, either one way or the other,
yet, by ever revealing fresh marvels, she undoubtedly
accumulates evidence which should help us more and
more vividly to realize the working in nature of an in-
telligence as immeasurably transcending that of man as
her works surpass his — thus justifying Lord Kelvin's
much controverted dictum that science positively enforces
belief in God. Father Thurston concludes his papers
on the Irish Bull of an English Pope, with the state-
ment that the arguments against the authenticity of
the Bull Laudabiliter are not conclusive. The fact re-
mains that there was undoubtedly a grant of Ireland
made by Pope Adrian to Henry II. A review of the
new volume by Father Tyrrell, Ltx Credendi (Long-
mans), says that if any one takes it up with the antici-
pation of finding an angry diatribe against benighted
. theological dogmatism (such as The Daily Chronicle had
hinted could be expected), such a reader will be greatly
disappointed. " Even if Father Tyrrell were provoked
to violence, there is a certain vulgarity about such
methods which we venture to say that his refined taste
would never approve. He might wield a rapier, but
surely not a shillelah." In point of fact, however, the
. note of controversy is almost entirely absent from these
pages. The longer part of the book is " a commentary,
devotional in the best sense of the word.'' The reader
will find here '' a renewal of the simple charm which
has won so many enthusiastic admirers for the writer's
earliest work, given to the world in Nova et Vetera and
Hard Sayings, This volume is " an altogether worthy
continuation of previous work published with full theo-
logical censorship and ecclesiastical sanction. Father
Tyrrell looks forward rather than backward. He writes
for the coming generation, whose minds can hardly fail
to be storm-tossed by the daring theological discussions
that now surround us on every side, rather than for the
faithful of earlier days reposing securely in Peter's bark
during a time of favoring breezes and unruffled waters.
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1906.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 421
But of his zeal for what is highest and what is truest
we have no doubt."
Chufch Quarterly Review (April): An article on training for
Holy Orders declares that "as a church the Anglican
Communion is singularly indifferent how its ministry is
prepared for the important work it has to discharge.''
A reviewer gives a very interesting summary of
Holman Hunt's volumes on the history of Pre-Raphael-
itism. A sketch of Cardinal Cusa says that his claim
to greatness rests on his position as a Reformer, and a
. practical Reformer, inside the Church* — devotedly at-
tached to her doctrines and her ceremonies, and yet
fully alive to her weaknesses and anxious to remedy
them.
The National Review (May) : The Episodes of the Month con-
tains, among other items, a lengthy, thorough, and valu-
able explanation of the Birreligious Education Bill.
Captain A. T. Mahan offers " Some Reflections upon the
Far Eastern War." In "The Ethics of the Trade
Disputes Bill," J. Ramsay Macdonald defends the ethics
of the clause of the Bill whereby the funds of Trade
Unions will be immune from damages caused by acts of
agents of the Unions during times of trade disputes."
Rowland Blennerhassett writes on "The Genesis of Ital-
ian Unity," tracing it from the time of Napoleon, and
concluding that Italy's salvation is an. entente with Eng-
land, France, and Russia. Reginald Lucas, in "The
Value of a Public School Education," discusses what
courses ought to be taught, and protests against the old
classical training.— Eveline Godley contributes '*A
Century of Children's Books. In "The Advent of the
Flying Machine," F. B. Baden- Powell writes: **Let our
law- givers ponder over the laws of trespass, and the
safeguarding of the public from this awful curse, which
threatens to cloud our skies with flights of human lo-'
custs ! " " Russia on the Rubicon's Banks," by Spe-
cial Correspondent, and " The Compulsion of Empire,"
are interesting and timely.
^ Quinzaine (i6 April): A paterfamilias, M. Cr^tinon, severe-
ly and extensively criticizes the plan of universal educa-
tion proposed by Professor Duprat. The writer of De
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422 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [June,
V Attitude du pretre Catholique en France devant le temps
present^ discusses the present situation, and counsels a
policy of courageous independence, blended with respect
for the authority of the State.
Revue du Cletge Frangais (i May): M. Turmel, continuing his
discussion of Bossuet's opinions, treats of his theological
views concerning tradition, the Immaculate Conception, the
pains of the future life, the satisfaction of Christ, and the
Gallican claims. M. J. Bois furnishes a study on the
present conditions of the Russian Church, and the pros-
pect of a revival in it of Roman Catholicism. In the
Tribune Libre^ M. Boeglin suggests that if Rome would
publish to the Catholic world an account of the manner
in which Peter's pence are expended, it would prove an
efficacious means of swelling the contributions.
(15 May): M. Vacandard concludes his fine dissertation
on the coercive power of the Church and the Inquisition.
M. Gayraud points out some serious difficulties that
will arise from the law of the eleventh of December, in
case that associations of worship (associations cultuelles)
are not established, in compliance with its provisions,
before December 12, 1906. ^The historian of the Com-
mandments of the Church traces the establishment of the
feasts of obligation.
Le Correspondant (10 April): The recent Ukase of the Czar of
Russia readers an article of H. Korwin Milewski, "The
Future Parliament of Russia^" very interesting reading.
The two divisions of the parliament, the Duma and the
Council of the Empire^ are described as well as their mode
of election. For many reasons, particularly its extreme
complication, the diversity of the principles upon which
it is founded, the author predicts for the Duma a mere
ephemeral existence. Russia at the present time, he con-
cludes, is taking much the same risk as a young girl
who would marry a man of whom she knows nothing
at all ; such a risk, however, time has rendered neces-
sary. "The Science of the Propaganda" is a pen
picture of the central office of the German Catholic
Propaganda at Munchen-Gladbach, whence issues the
influence which nourishes the faith, animates the zeal,
and directs the votes of 480,000 Germans. The amount
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I906.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 423
of work that is done is phenomenal ; two papers — one
dealing with Christian apologetics and the other with
social questions — are published. Besides these a large
number of pamphlets, explanatory of the Church's doc-
trines and containing articles on science and economics,
are printed. The man in charge of this vast enterprise
is M, TAbb^ Pieper.
(25 April): An anonymous contribution, "The Political
Anarchy and the Religious Restoration/' is an arraignment
of the government of France. It was written on the
eve of the late general elections, with the end in view
of defeating the party in power. The writer states that
the last legislature of France did more than any other
thing during the past thirty years to sow germs of an-
archy, political and administrative, financial and civil.
Owing to the deeds of the same body, the prestige of
the two great forces of the nation, the army and navy,
has been lowered ; and the country's finances have been
compromised by investments in improvised projects.
£tmles (5 April): With the view to throwing a little light on
the religious problems of the day, Lucien Roure opens
a series of articles, the first of which is entitled ''The
Religious Feeling." He attempts to show that this feel-
ing is based on something real, on God, on the relations
existing between him and his creatures.— J. Reimsbach
contributes a rather scientific account of the miracle of
St. Januarius. He enters into the details of the phe-
nomenon — the different times at which it occurs, the
variations in temperature, in the volume and weight, and
lastly the reality of the blood — and his conclusion is that
it is a real miracle. Fr. Tyrrell, in a short note, " pro-
tests against the personal attacks made on him in an
article which appeared on the fifth of March in the
Etudes** He ''formally denies the various insinuations of
the writer," notably what was said regarding his " repro-
bation" by the Society and the Imprimatur " mistakenly "
bestowed on one of his books. Documents which he is
ready to place before the reader would show that jus-
tice — to say nothing of delicacy — would forbid such
treatment as has been dealt out by the Mtudes. If he
hesitates to publish these, it is solely out of considera-
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4^4 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [June,
tion for the English Jesuits, who have always shown —
before his departure and after it, too — the greatest kind-
ness, and have' not watched for the day of his exit from
the Society to commence writing against htm. In re-
ply the Editor denies that he has in any sense awaited
the exit of Father Tyrrell in order to write against him.
Moreover, though it is difficult to comment upon a man's
teaching without seeming to include his personality, many
evidences have been given that the criticism in ques-
tion was as discreet and reserved as possible. Nor is
there any intention of embittering or prolonging the pres-
ent painful quarrel.
(20 April) : V. Loiselet makes a brief study of the
eight- hour* day question. After giving a short history
of the agitations in favor of an eight- hour day, he cites
reasons, economical and physical, for and against its
adoption. Antoine Malvy indicates the points of prog-
ress in the Russian Church reform movement— —While
waiting for practical instructions, promised by the Pope,
with regard to the state of religion in France, Paul
Aucler makes a few remarks on associations of worship
among Catholics. His remarks seem in favor of them.
Revue Biblique (April) : P. Lagrange, reviewing Fr. Pesch's new
volume on Inspiration^ pays tribute to the moderation
and good sense of the author, and says that these qual-
ities shine out in distinguished contrast to the bitter at-
tacks on critical studies which other Jesuits, like Billot,
Schifiini, and Fouck, have seen fit to make. Referring
to the late work of Padre SchifEni against higher criti-
cism, which procured for the author a letter of high
commendation from Pius X., Father Lagrange declares
that the book is beneath contempt. Schifiini says, in the
course of his volume, that Fr. Lagrange is a rationalist
and a falsifier. Fr. Lagrange indignantly replies that in-
sults of this sort are not such as a pen can answer. A
long quotation is given of a letter sent out secretly over
a year ago by the General of the Jesuits to his pro-
vincials, in which the newer critical studies of Scrip-
ture among Catholics are violently censured, and the
provincials are commanded to be vigilant in excluding
this detestable higher criticism from the Society.
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1^6.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 425
Studi R'eligiosi (March- April): P. Minoschi defends modern
critical studies from the charge that they are merely the
sinful offspring of rationalism. He shows that to-day
Catholic apologetics must desert some of its old methods,
if it is to speak intelligibly to modern men. In particu-
lar Catholics must put forth entirely new efforts in the
three-fold field of comparative religion, the history of
Israel, and Christian origins, particularly New Testa-
ment criticism. Let us not be surprised if comparative
religion teaches us that Christianity has taken unto it-
self certain forms which were originally pagan ; or if Old
Testament history reveals many imperfections in Israel's
early religion. The article ends with a warning not to
make any system of human philosophy essential to
Christian Faith.
Rassegna Nazionale (i April): In a previous issue Senatore
Gabba drew attention to the moral significance of the
movement known as Zionism, and to the dangers which
would follow its propaganda in Italy. Replies were
made for the purpose of showing that said movement
was merely philanthropic in character; but in the pres-
ent number of the Rassegna Nazionale^ the Senatore
writes again to prove that this is not the case. The
condemned propositions of Rosmini are submitted to
examination, and the contention made that the teaching
in question was largely misunderstood by its opponents.
Padre de Feis suggests possible ways of reconciling
the apparent discrepancies concerning the death of Ju-
das as related by St. Matthew and by The Acts,
(16 April): S. Monti writes in favor of female suffrage
as a necessary consequence of the premises on which
modern conceptions of liberty and democracy are found-
ed. Sabinadi Parravicino di Revel sketches the In-
troduction with which Cardinal Rampolla has presented
the Life of Santa Melania the Younger, E. S. Kings-
wan signalizes the appreciation of // Santo given by
Mrs. Crawford in the April Fortnightly Review as the
most accurate and just of the criticisms thus far pub-
lished, and cites the judgment that "after the heat of
controversy has cooled, the book will take its place in
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426 Foreign Periodicals [June.
Italian literature as a work of great literary merit and
of high moral conception."
La Civilta Cattolica (21 April): An article concerning the anti-
clericalism, which is now spreading so alarmingly in Eu-
rope, maintains that this evil is of French origin, and
can never find a congenial home on Italian soil. An
interesting risume is given of the opinions held by the
sixteenth century missionaries to Japan regarding the
characteristics of that remarkable people. Those opin-
ions are highly favorable. One missionary compares the
Japanese to the old Romans, and says they are fear-
less in war and devoted to duty as life's highest ideal.
Another declares that Europeans are barbarians com-
pared with the Japanese.
Stimmen aus Maria- Laach (14 March):" The Apostle of India
and Japan/' an article commemorating the fourth cen-
tennial of St. Francis Xavier, by Joseph Dahlman, S.J.
^Joh. Sorensen, S.J., concludes his reflections on
Nietzsche's Zaratkoustra. Chr. Pesch contributes his
third and final article on '' Inspiration of the Bible/' In
this number he gives his opinion of the position to be
taken in the new critical tendency in exegesis. His
conclusion is that there is no need for worry as to the
final outcome of the struggle. Truth will in the end
conquer. Every new battle means for it a new victory.
Scientists, and those who speak in the name of science,
must furnish evidence of the truth of their assertions.
As Catholics we must be confident that the Church will
do her duty in the Biblical question, and also willingly
submit in case that a definite pronouncement is made.
Till then, let us be calm and reasonable.-^—'' Germany's
Splendor in the Darkest Century " is complete in this
number. A. Baumgartner gives Fogazzaro's religious
and literary position in // Santo.
(23 April) : " Social -democratic Morality," by V. Cath-
rein, S.J. O. Pfiilf reviews Bishop von Kettelers' Re-
formgedanken.
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THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION.
HOME study, it may safely be said, has been the basis of great careers in
this countryi and in other lands as well. Journalism, statecraft, the
pulpit, bat, and other avenues of distinction have counted their luminaries
from among those ambitious, persistent souls who, brooking no obstacles,
courting self-denial, << while others slept were toiling upward in the night."
Merely to mention the names of those self-made men of our country whose
start toward distinction began with home study, with which the Reading Cir-
cle has a close affinity, would make a surprising list.
Within the past hundred years men whose names will long continue to be
household words — in the quiet seclusion of a backwoods Western farm or
amid bleak New England hills, it maybe — were all unconsciously, but none
the* less certainly, mentally equipping themselves with resources that in later
years were destined to make for fame.
Horace Greely — in his boyhood home in Vermont — consumed with an
unquenchable thirst for knowledge, read and re-read the Bible, the family
almanac, and such scarce literature as the time provided. Greely's reading
and studying the dryest, most prosaic books — knowing little of the great
reserve force thus being stored up, later to make him not only great as an
editor but as a statesman — pursuing intently night after night by the flicker-
ing glare of logs on an old-fashioned fireplace — is an instance in itself strong
enough to attest the value of home study. Dr. Orestes A. Brownson had a
similar experience as a boy on a Vermont farm.
Almost simultaneous with the home study of the New England boy, in a
log cabin in the West, far from neighbors and almost beyond the limits of
civilization, we find Lincoln, the rail-splitter, voraciously digesting such
literature as might come his way, and greedily devouring such seductive
pearls of thought as the few Government reports occasionally distributed with
a none too lavish hand by the statesmen of the then new West.
Home study has aided practically every career worthy of the name, and
it is doubtful if, among all the avenues of education and advancement that
have been developed in the last half century, any more notable progress has
been made than along the lines of this particular subject. Widely known
national institutions of an educational character now recognize the value
springing from their printed courses of home stndy. Coming down to more
recent years, home study has received an added impetus from the great num-
ber of institutions making a specialty of instruction by mail — institutions
which number their graduates by thousands, and which long ago gave proof
of the efficiency of this mode of imparting knowledge. Indeed, it might well
be said that instruction along practically every line of modern thought may
be successfully pursued to-day through the admirable mail order courses of
instruction offered by some of these most substantial institutions of learning
in this country.
It is not too much to say that some of the most successfnl young men of
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428 THE Columbian Reading Union [June,
affairs to-day identified with commerce, mercantile and leading intellectual
pursuits in our large cities took their first step on the road to success through
that once decried avenue, the home-study course. To-day the usefulness and
wisdom of this help to thousands, who otherwise would be unknown and ob-
scure, stand vindicated the world over — indeed, it is well known that many
institutions of this country are to-day having their courses of instruction
printed in different foreign languages, and weekly these are mailed to ambi-
tious students in all quarters of the globe.
• • •
One of the most remarkable movements in the culture history of the
last quarter of a century is the intellectual awakening of the Celts, and the
keen interest that is taken in their history, literature, art, antiquities, folk-
lore, and music. The keynote of this movement, which is known as the Cel-
tic Revival, is the rehabilitation of the native languages, Irish, Scotch-
Gaelic, Welsh or Breton, as the caae may be, and, in an investigation of any
of the numberless phases which the study may take, a knowledge of the lan-
guage is the indispensable factor.
Celtic philology, or, in other words, the study of the language and liter*
ature of the Celts, is now a feature in the curricula of some of the leading
universities of Ireland, Wales, Scotland, England, France, Germany, and
America. The numerous reviews devoted solely to it, published regularly in
English, French, and German, and books and essays on Celtic topics in these
languages, as well as in Danish and Italian, not to speak of the vernacular,
are evidence of the deep attention and wide range of devotees to the subject.
Celtic philology is a comparatively new field, not the smallest part of which
has been exhausted; in fact, it remains almost untouched. It thus promises
far more abundant returns than, let us say, classical, or romance, or Ger-
manic philology, which, from the first, have never lacked numerous bands
of workers.
The student with a linguistic, historical, and literary bent will find no
more fertile field to which to devote his energy and talents than this. Tbe
subject has great need of more students and investigators, and there are par-
ticular reasons why more and more American students, especially those of
Celtic descent, should give the study more specialized attention. There is
no doubt of the attraction that Celtic literature and Celtic antiquities have
for university men. This was clearly seen from the enthusiasm aroused by
the lectures of Dr. Douglas Hyde and the Irish poet, William B. Yeats, be-
fore the leading A merican universities. It is with the greatest pleasure that
the Gaelic students are able to quote the President of the United States in
connection- with the subject. Mr. Roosevelt is a connoisseur of the older
Irish literature, and in a recent speech he made this plea for the study of
Celtic literature: "I hope that an earnest effort will be made to endow
chairs in American universities for the study of Celtic literature, and for re-
search in Celtic antiquities. It is only of recent years that the extraordinary
wealth and beauty of the old Celtic sages have been fully appreciated, and we
of America, who have so large a share of Celtic strain in our blood, cannot
afford to be behindhand in the work of adding to modern scholarship by
bringing within its ken the great Celtic literature of the past."
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i9o6.] The Columbian Reading Union 429
In order, then, to open up this subject to a wider circle of collegians, the
courses in Celtic at the Catholicf University have been modified accotdingly.
The scope of the department is thus set forth in the Year Book for 1905-6:
The student whose mhin interest is in Celtic will find no lack of subjects
which would well reward investigation.
The subjects and texts chosen will vary in different years, so as to repre-
sent different phases of Celtic philology, and will include the simple treat-
ment of topics relating to the antiquities, histoiy, and religion of the Celts.
I. General View of the Irish Languages and Literatures. — The grammar
in outline. The course will be devoted largely to the reading and interpre-
tation of typical selections from the remnants of Early-Irish, the mediaeval
sagas, and modern compositions. The main purpose will be te affor^ an
opportunity to those desiring simply to acquire a general knowledge of the
languages and literature of Ireland, but who will not be able to make Celtic a
subject for special study. This is a two hours' weekly course throughout the
year. ^
The following courses treat their subjects more in detail :
II. Old Irish. — Introduction to Celtic Philology; Old Irish Grammar;
study of the Glosses and earliest literary monuments.
III. Middle Irish. — Interpretation of Middle Irish texts.
IV. Modern Irish. — Explanation of some Modern Irish prose and verse.
V. In the Bretonic branch, a choice of Welsh or Breton is offered, to
consist of a brief exposition of the grammar of the language, and the reading,
if Welsh, of some easy prose, thence going back to the Mabinogion and other
Welsh tales from the Red Book of Hergerst ; of Breton, of some easy stories
in the Leonard dialect, and thence proceeding to some older pieces in M.
Loth's Chrestomathie Bretonne.
In the courses of study leading to the Bachelor of Arts degree is the
Celtic Course, in which, as in the other culture courses, instruction is offered
in English. Comparative Philology, Latin or Greek, Philosophy, German,
French, History, Economics, Physics or Chemistry or Biology, and Reli-
gious Instruction, but in which the principal subject is Celtic, just as in
the other language groups the special subject is Latin or Greek, or English,
or Semitic.
• • •
The Young Catholic — which is now published as The Leader by the
Columbus Press — was started by the late Father Hecker, in the year 1870.
As a boy the Rev. Francis J. Finn, S.J., was an eager reader of this first
publication for Catholic children in the United States. At that time there
were no Catholic boys in fiction, that is, no boys of one's own species in the
books which boys read as idealized pictures of their own lives. There were
plenty of good little boys who were always undergoing persecution for the
sake of their religion, and of smart boys who always had the best of an argu-
ment with the minister, but there were no pictures of the real American
Catholic boy. In the great crowd of story-writers there was none to give a
picture of the life of the American Catholic boy. Suddenly, while many
were bewailing the fate of children without books specially their own, Father
Finn came. He has never told us whether he thought he had a mission to
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430 T^E Columbian Reading Union [June,
boys or not. But the boys liked him and his books better than any books
they had read, because he understood them, and because when he wrote be
became a boy again.
It is the kindness, the cheerfulness, the earnest sympathy, and the ideal-
ism of Father Finn that makes boys love him. By idealism we mean his
power of illuminating the boy so that he sees himself as he would like to be ;
and his power, too, of showing the boys' teacher as he ought to be.
Father Finn takes the boy as he is ; he has no illusions about him — but
he strives to make him better by showing that boys may be honorable and
spiritual-minded without losing all the qualities which the growing man es-
teems and loves in his heroes. And what the boy loves in his heroes he
strives to imitate.
Father Finn was born at St. Louis on October 4, 1859. He entered the
Society of Jesus on March 4, 1879, and was ordained priest in 1893. He was
Professor in St. Louis University and in St. Mary's College, Kansas, and
Professor of English Literature in Marquette College, Milwaukee.
Father Finn's published books are : Percy IVynn, T0m Play/air^ Harry
Deey Claude Lightfoot, Mostly Boys, Faces Old and New, Ada Merlon, Ethel'
red Preston.
• • ' •
Mrs. Francis C. Tiernan, whose books are published over the name of
*« Christian Reid," was born at Salisbury, North Carolina, where her people
have lived from the first settlement of the country. Her father, Colonel
Charles F. Fisher, was killed on July 21, 1861, in the battle of Manassas,
while in command of his regiment of North Carolina State Troops.
This event, followed as it was by the loss of the Southern cause and con-
sequent loss of fortune to all of those who had been among the leading people
of the South, made a great change in the prospects and future life of his
daughter. Soon after the end of the war, while still very young, she began
writing, a pursuit to which from her earliest childhood she had been greatly
inclined, having indeed composed stories and dictated them to a kind elder
before she learned to form letters. A year or two of preliminary work was
followed by the publication and immediate success of Valerie Aylmer, after
which for several years she devoted herself closely to literature, living most of
her time in the old home of her family at Salisbury.
To a mind clear as hers, to a soul loving beauty, to a heart always brave,
religious truth could not remain unknown. In early womanhood she recog-
nized, admired, and fervently embraced the Catholic faith.
In 1879-80 she spent some time in Europe, chiefly in Paris and Rome,
and after her return to America wrote Heart of Steel and Armine, first pub-
lished in The Catholic World, which, together with Morton House, A
Question of Honor, and A Daughter of Bohemia, may be mentioned as her
best works.
In 1887 she was married to Mr. James M. Tiernan, and has since resided
chiefly in Mexico, where her husband has large mining interests. Out of
Mrs. Tier nan's stay in Mexico has come The Land of the Sun, Picture of Lai
Cruces, and Carmela, Her principal Catholic stories are Armine, A Child of
Mary, Philip's Restitution, Carmela, A Litile Maid of Arcady, and A Woman
of Fortune.
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i9o6.] The Columbian Reading union 431
Mrs. Tiernan's other books arc : A Cast for Fortune ^ Mabel Lee^ Ebb-
Tide, Nina*s Atonement^ Garments Inheritance, A Gentle Belle, Hearts and
Hands, The Land of the Sky, After Many Days, Bonny Kate, A Summer Idyl,
Roslyn*s Fortune, Miss Churchill,
• • •
Ella Loraine Dorsey is the youngest child of Mrs. Anna Hanson Dorsey.
She began her literary career, when she was about sixteeen, as special corre-
spondent on the Chronicle and Critic, two Washington papers. Later she
wrote specials regularly for the Chicago Tribune, and now and then for the
Boston Journal, Cincinnati Commercial Gazette,
In April, 1886, Harper's Magazine published ''Back from the Frozen
Pole," and The Catholic World published ** The Czar's Horses," which
last was attributed to Archibald Forbes, and went around the English colo-
nies as far as New Zealand. The same year Father Hudson published Mid"
shipman Bob, which was so kindly received that it was re- printed and had a
large sale in England and Ireland, and was translated into Italian. From
that time she devoted herself to our Catholic boys through the Ave Maria,
trying to do for them what her mother did nobly for the grown-ups ; and be-
tween 1886 and 1890 published: Jet, the War Mule, The Two Tramps, Cop-
pinger's Inheritance, The Jose Maria, Saxty^s Angel, Speculum Justitice, The
Wharf RaVs Christmas, The Brahman's Christmas, The Salem Witch, and
Tiny Tim, Before that, however, several of her sketches had been pub-
lished: The Solitary Soul, The Son of the Widow of N aim. The Fool of the
Wood, Bolger, Ole Miss,
In 1890 a prolonged sickness put a stop to her work, and since that time
she has written a story in Outing, ** Ivan of the Mask," some '* specials" in
the Washington Post and Ave Maria, and ** Smallwood's Immortals," a his-
torical sketch of the young paladins of the Maryland Line, who died at Long
Island in 1776, that the army — the defeated, panic-stricken, routed, almost
destroyed army — might live.
Her mother's illness two years ago further checked Miss Dorsey's work,
and a new book on which she is now engaged will mark the recommencement
of her regular work.
Miss Dorsey is a Daughter of the American Revolution, a Colonial
Dame, a member of the Literary Society of Washington, the Geographical
Society, the Georgetown Convent Alumnas Association, and has been most
active in her efforts for the new Trinity College for Catholic women, at
Washington, D. C. M. C. M.
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BOOKS RECEIVED
Charles Scribnbr's Sons. New York :
Lucy of the Stars, By Frederick Palmer. Pp. ix.-344. Illustrated. Price $1.50.
The Macmillan Company, New York:
A Livinp Wa^e; Its Ethical and Economsc Aspects, By John A. Ryan, S.T.L. Pp. xv.-
346. Price $1.50 net. In Quest of Ught, By Gofdwin Smith. Pp. vili.-X77. Price
$li net.
Longmans, Green & Co.. New York :
Out of Due Time. A Novel. By Mrs. Wilfrid Ward. Price $150. Letters from the
Beloved City. By Rev. Kenelm Digby Best. Cheaper reissue. Price 50 cents net.
Some Dogmas of Religion. By J. M. £. McTaggart. Price $3.
Funk & Wagnalls Company. New York :
The Vest'Pochet Standard Dictionary, Edited by James C. Femald. Price, cloth. 35
cents ; leather. 50 cents.
Benziger Brothers. New York :
The Throne of the Fisherman : The Root, the Bond, and the Crown of Christendom. By
Thomas W. Allies. New Edition. Price $1.35. The Apocalypse ; The Antichrist and
the End. By J. J. Elgar. Price $1.60 net. The Ordinary ot the Mass, Historically,
LiturgicaUy, and Eaegettcally Explained, By Rev. Arthur iSevine. Passionist. Price
$1.50.
Fr. Pustet & Co.. New York:
Patfon Saints for Girls. Pp. 348. Price ^o cents. Patron Saints for Boys, Pp. 247.
Price 50 cents. An Abridgment of Christian Doctrine, Prescribed by his Holiness,
Pope Pius X. Price, retail, 10 cents.
B. Herder. St. Louis:
The Lives of the Popes in the Early Middle Ajns, By the Rev. Horace K. Mann. The
Popes during- the Caflovingian Empire. Vol. n. Price $3. A Booh of the Love of Jesus
Christ : A Collection of Ancient Enslish Devotions in Prose and Verse. Compiled by
Hugh Benson. M.A., Priest of the Diocese of Westminster. Price 75 cents.
The State Commission of Prisons, New York:
Eleventh Annual Report of the State Commission of Prisons for the year i^,
Joseph McDonough. Albany, N. Y. :
JouteVs Journal of La Salle* s Last Voyage—itS^-^, Pp. 258. Price $5 net
The Angelus Publishing Company. Detroit. Mich. :
PauVs Offering and Gates Ajar, Stories by Joseph F. Wynne. Price, including |>ostage,
75 cents.
Carey & Co., London :
Plain Chant Masses, Arranged for Unison or Four Part Singing. By R. R^ Terry.
Priced/.
Victor Lecoffrb, Paris. France :
La Loi d'Awtour; II. Misericorde. Par L. A. Gaffre. Les Saints, Le Bieuhtreus Era
Giovanni Angelico de Fiesole. Par Henri Cochin. Price 2fr, Saint Theodore, Par
L'Abbd Martin. Price a/r. La Bienhereux Varani, aoeroe Ed. Price ay>-.
Librairib Hachette et Cie, Paris, France:
Joseph de Maistre et la Papaut/. Pp. 359.
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THE
CATHOLIC WORLD.
Vol. LXXXIII. JULY, 1906. No. 496.
A STUDY IN EARLY CHRISTIAN APOLOGETICS.
BY PATRICK J. HEALY, D.D.
[HERE is probably no field of theological study
which has been so little cultivated, and cer-
tainly none which is likely to yield such abun-
dant fruit in the near future, as that of historic,
cal apologetics. ^ The reason for this neglect in
the past is not far to seek. Apart from the fact that systema *
tic theology is the expression of Christian faith under the stress
of heresy, rather than an independent organic growth, the at-
tention of Christian thinkers and writers has hitherto been so
much directed to purely speculative matters, or so much oc->
cupied with polemics, that there was no opportunity for the
elaboration of a system of defence by which the right of Chris-
tianity to be regarded as a divinely revealed religion could be
clearly established by its history. The need for such a system
of defence has long been apparent, and is every day becoming
more urgent. Dollinger's famous Heidenthum und Judenthum
was an attempt to satisfy this need, and multitudes of works
of the same character have since dealt with the subject, but
very largely along the lines laid down by Dollinger. In more re-
cent years, however, the strictest methods of the evolutionist have
taken possession of the science of history, and Christianity, like
all complex organisms, is now being scrutinized and dissected
Copyright. 1906. The Missionary Society of St. Paul the Apostle
IN THE State op New York.
VOL, LXXXIII.— 28
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434 A Study IN Early Christian Apologetics [July,
with the purpose of finding out how much it has been moulded
and modified and colored by its environment, how much of its
present form and constituents it owes to the surroundings
through which it has passed.
The solution of the problems presented by this line of re-
search involves labor which will require the imagination of the
poet, the skill of the scientist, and the clear vision of the seer.
The world of two thousand years ago, that milieu into which
Christianity was first projected, must be reconstructed in all its
main outlines and its principal details. A picture must be
presented of Graeco-Roman society which will show at once
the achievements and failures of that society, its hopes, ten-
dencies, and promises. This picture, neither darkened by
theological prejudice, nor lightened by a false aestheticism, will
enable us to realize what Christ's mission and message meant
for humanity. Such a picture, embracing the political, social,
intellectual, moral, and civil relations in the world of the an-
cients, has never yet been painted ; the details of it, however,
are gradually assuming shape. It is now possible to enter into
the social and family life of the early Roman Empire, and to
judge of that hybrid civilization produced by centuries of Ro-
man conquest, and centuries of Greek culture ; but until all the
elements that composed the pagan civilization are blended and
grouped into one whole, it will not be possible to judge what
Christianity has actually accomplished. The majestic music to
which Gibbon's Rome marched to its Decline and Fall im-
presses without fully satisfying. The English historian made
the pages of Tillemont live, but his prejudices blinded him to
that phase of the subject where he might have seen another
and a fresher life rising on the wreck of the old.
A more appropriate period for a study of the conditions
antecedent to the revolution wrought by Christianity in human
affairs could not be chosen than that selected by Professor Dill
in his work Roman Society from Nero to Marcus Aurelius,* "a
period which opened with the self-destruction of lawless and
intoxicated power, and closed with the realization of Plato's
dream of a reign of philosophers." All the elements necessary
* Roman Society from Nero to Marcus Aurelius, By Samuel Dill, M.A.. Professor of
Greek in Queen's College, Belfast. Author of Roman Society in the Last Century of the
Western Empire, New York: The Macmillan Company.
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I906.] A Study in Early Christian apologetics 435
for a study of the social condition of humanity^ under pagan
auspices and under the guidance of philosophy, are found in
this periods It was a time that revealed the apotheosis ot
miterial civilization, and afforded an unexcelled opportunity to
test human theories of life and destiny apart from the influ-
ence and restraint of a revealed religion. There was the most
unrestricted and widest opportunity to study the problems of
life, and the fairest opportunity ever offered to put theories to
the test of practice. Dr. Dill does not attempt to deal with
the entire range of human relations in the epoch which be
discusses^ He is careful to insist that the scope of the work
is limited, that attention is concentrated on the inner moral
life of the time rather than on its external history and the
machinery of government. The work is a magnificent piece of
historical synthesis. It is drawn from many sources^ and pre-
sents a comprehensive view of the intellectual, social, moral,
and religious conditions of an important epoch. Whether the
author's opinions will receive universal acceptance may be
doubted. He, of course, had his prepossessions, and the choice
of his facts and his method of presentation were necessarily
affected thereby; not that he is in any way guilty of misrep-
resentation or special pleading, but he depicts pagan society
in a light somewhat more favorable than is usually found, and
if his conclusions are accepted as premises, it is difficult to
understand the logic which would have produced the state of
affairs described by Seeck.
Professor Dill confines himself to three phases of life in the
period which he discusses. His work is divided into four
books, of which the first two deal with the social life ; the
others with philosophy and religion. Many phases of these
subjects are discussed in fifteen long chapters, or rather spe-
cial treatises, entitled: I. The Aristocracy Under the Terror;
II. The World of the Satirist. III. The Society of the Freed-
men. IV. The Circle of the Younger Pliny; V. Municipal
Life; VI. The Colleges and Plebeian Life; VII. The Philo-
sophic Director ; VIII. The Philosophic Missionary ; IX The
Philosophic Theologian; X. Superstition: XI. Belief in Im-
mortality; XII. The Old Roman Religion; XIII. Magna Ma-
ter; XIV. Isis and Serapis; XV. The Religion of Mithra.
In discussing this wide range of topics the author, in nearly
every case, analyzes his sources in such a manner that we are
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436 A STC/DY IN EARLY CHRISTIAN APOLOGETICS [July,
enabled to go beyond the written document or even the chance
inscription, and see the situation as it might have appeared to
the original writer if divested of his prejudices or passion.
Thus in the first chapter, which the author studies principally
from the works of Seneca and Tacitus, what can be more ef-
fective than the following in giving an idea of the state of
affairs during the Julio Claudian Terror?
The power of Seneca as a moral teacher has, with some
reservations, been recognized by all the ages since his time.
But equal recognition has hardly been given to the lurid light
which he throws, in random flashes, on the moral conditions
of his class under the tyranny of Caligula and Nero. This
may be due, perhaps, to a distrust of his artificial declama-
tion, and that falsetto note which, he too often strikes even in
his most serious moments. Yet he must be an unsympathetic
reader who does not perceive that, behind the moral teaching
of Seneca, there lies an awful experience, a life- long torture,
which turns all the fair-seeming blessings of life, state, luxury,
and lofty rank, into dust and ashes. There is a haunting
shadow over Seneca which never draws away, which some-
times deepens into a horror of darkness. In whatever else
Seneca may have been insincere, his veiled references to the
terrors of the imperial despotism come from the heart.
In reading Seneca's writings, especially those of his last
years, you are conscious of a horror which hardly ever takes
definite shape, a thick, stifling air, as it were charged with
lightning. Again and again you feel a dim terror closing
in silently and stealthily, with sudden glimpses of unutter-
able torture, of cord and rack and flaming tunic. You seem
to see the sage tossing on his couch of purple under richly
pannelled ceilings of gold, starting at every sound in the
wainscot, as he awaits the messenger of death. It is not so
much that Seneca fears death itself; although we may suspect
that his nerves gave the lie to his principles. He often hails
death as welcome at any age, as the deliverer who strikes off
the chain and opens the prison door, the one harbor on a tem-
pestuous and treacherous sea. He is grateful for having al-
ways open this escape from life's long torture, and boldly
claims the right to anticipate the executioner.
These words of a moralist rather than a politician, and sim-
ilar testimony from Tacitus, show that life under the early
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.1906.] A Study IS Early Christian Apologetics 437
Roman Empire was fatal to character, both in prince and sub-
ject, and produced that luxury, debasement, and supineness of
Ihe people revealed in the pages of the satirists. The wbrld
.depicted by Juvenal and Martial did not differ materially from
that described by Tacitus and Seneca and Suetonius. "Juvenal
knew the shameful secrets of Roman life almost as well as his
friend Martial, through' whose verses we know the society of
Domitian as we know. hardly any other period of ancient his-
.tory." After every due care has been taken not to exalt the
individual of the satirists into a type, and after full allowance
has been made for their bitterness against the existing order,
it must be said Juvenal and Martial lay bare and paint with a
realistic power, hardly equalled by Tacitus, an actual state of
universal vice and luxury which had " degraded great houses
and flooded the city with an alien crew of astrologers and
grammarians, parasites and pimps." Together with this, they
reveal a great social change brought about by the decay in
the morals and wealth of the senatorial order and the growing
power and opulence of the freedman and the petty trader.
These and the invasion of Greek and Oriental influences and
the perilous or hopeful emancipation, especially of women, are
the great facts in the social history of the first century which
stand out clearly on every page of the satirists.
One of the great silent movements, which the historian
who is occupied with war and politics and the fate of princes
is apt to lose sight of, was the social change in the early Em-
pire wrought by the rise of the freedmen to wealth and con-
sequence, throughout the provinces as well as in Italy, and
the immense popularity they attained by profuse benefactions
to colleges and municipalities. The Tretnalchis of Petronius,
whose estates were so vast that he had not seen some of them,
is undoubtedly the representative of a great class, whose rise
to power was made inevitable by the Roman system of slav-
ery. " The Senator was forbidden both by law and sentiment
to increase his fortune by commerce, and the plebeian, satu-
rated with Roman prejudice, looking for support to the gran-
aries of the state, or the dole of the wealthy patron, turned
with disdain from the occupations which are in our days
thought innocent, if not honorable."
It is a great relief to turn from the picture of base and
vulgar luxury in the satirists, and in the novel of Petronius,
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438 ASj^pYiN Early Christian Apologetics [July,
to the 4iobriety and refinement of a class which has been im-
mortalized by the younger Pliny. Society in every age pre-
sents the most startling moral contrasts, and no single compre-
hensive description of the moral condition can ever be true.
While there were stupendous corruption and abnormal depravity
under princes like Caligula, Nero, and Domitian, the gentle
and charitable aristocrat, Pliny, opens before us a society in
which people were charmingly refined, and in whose homes
boys and girls were reared in a refined and severe simplicity,
which even improved upon the tradition of the golden age of
Rome. The lavish generosity of Pliny is a commonplace of
social history. Having little love for games and gladiatorial
shows, which were the most popular object of liberality in
those days, he gave an enormous sum for the establishment of
a library in Como, his native town, with an annual endowment
to maintain it. In order that the youths of Como might not
be compelled to resort to Milan for their higher education, be
offered to contribute one- third of the expense of a high school
at Como if the parents would raise the remainder. He contri-
buted generously for the support of boys and girls of the
poorer classes, and left large sums for public baths and for
communal feasts. And Pliny was only a shining example of a
numerous class of public-spirited men, whose wealth was ex-
pended on works of civic utility, baths, theatres, markets, or
new roads and aqueducts, or those public banquets which
knitted all ranks together.
One of the remarkable things about Roman literature in
general is its silence as to the social life outside the capital.
Yet in any attempt to estimate the moral condition of the
masses, the influence of municipal life ought to occupy a large
place. In the chapter on Municipal Life Professor Dill is at
his best. Here he shows how it is possible, even without
written sources, to reconstruct from the monuments and inscrip
tions a complete picture of that brilliant civic life, which not
only covered the worlds both of East and West with material
monuments of Roman energy, but profoundly influenced for
good, or sometimes for evil, the public character. Without at-
tempting to trace the growth of provincial towns and cities
through all their various grades, and their evolution in the
hands of Roman statesmen from the time of Augustus, the
author shows us the magical transformation wrought in a cen-
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i9o6.] A Study IN Early Christian apologetics 439
tury and a half, a transformation which covered once desert
regions with flourishing and populous cities, filled with porti-
coes, temples, studios, and schools. The number and wealth
of these free municipalities, now known only through the
wrecks which occasionally meet the eye of the traveler, almost
pass belief. Yet in each of these centres of population, mod-
elled after the great city of Rome and under a central des-
potism, there was a range of liberty and political tolerance
which make it doubtful whether a citizen of Lyons or Mar-
seilles or Antioch or Alexandria was ever conscious of any
limitation by imperial authority upon his freedom. In the
realm of government and administration the Roman has never
had an equal, and the best and most enduring monument of
his genius in this regard was the great Pax Romana which
reigned over the civilized world for more than two centuries,
and which brought security of life and property to every one
within Roman dominions. No chapter in this work will better
repay perusal than that on Municipal Life.
Another of the striking social phenomena of the early
Empire, which the study of the inscriptions has brought to
light, was the development of the free prolitariat, and the or-
ganization of colleges and sodalities for mutual succor, "for
protection against oppression, for mutual sympathy and support,
for relief from the deadly dullness of an obscure and sordid
life.'' In spite of legislation and imperial distrust, and in the
face of continued opposition, these collegia and sodalitia multi-
plied until, in the majority of cases, they lost all semblance of
their original character as religious organizations, and became
purely secular in tone and purpose. Roughly speaking, these
colleges of the Romans are represented in modern times by
trades unions, fraternal insurance societies, and clubs for social
and business purposes. ''The colleges in which the artisans
and traders of the Antonine age grouped themselves, represent
every conceivable branch of industry or special skill or social
service, from the men who laid the fine sand in the arena, to
the rich wine merchants of Lyons or Ostia." It seems strange
that in discussing this question of colleges and sodalities, the
author makes no mention of Waltzing's work Les Associations
Professionelles chez les Romains, which is more modern and cer-
tainly quite as reliable as Mommsen's Collegia et Sodalitia
Romanorum.
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440 A Study IN EARLY Christian APOLOGETICS [July,
The chapters on the social life of the Romans under the
early Empire are a fitting and necessary prelude to those which
describe the intellectual and religious conditions in the same
period. Under the stress of an .administrative activity, which
aimed, abovp all, at unifying and welding so many diverse
jiatipnalities and peoples into one compact whole, both phi-
losophy and religion received a new content and an entirely
different meaning. " Philosophy in the time of Seneca was a
very different thing from the great cosmic systems of Ionia
and Magna Graecia, or even from the system of the older Stoi-
cism. Speculative interest had long before his time given way
to the study of moral problems with a definite, practical aim.''
This abandonment of abstract speculation for the more practi-
cal questions of morals, the inauguration of a period of eclec-
,ticism, and even of scepticism, was very largely the result of
the extinction of the free civic life of Greece and the estab-
lishment of the world-wide Empire of Rome. " In the old
city state religion, morals and political duty were linked in a
gracious unity and harmony. The citizen drew moral support
,and inspiration from ancestral laws and institutions clothed
with almost . divine authority. But when the corporate life
•which supplied such vivid interests and moral support was
.wrecked, the individual was thrown back upon himself. Mor-
als were finally separated from politics. Henceforth the great
problem of . philosophy was how to make character self-suffic-
ing and independent; how, to find the beatitude of man in the
autonomous will, fenced against all assaults of chance and
change." How this serious aim of philosophy, which had be-
come the guide of life and conduct, commended itself to the
practical spirit of the Romans is shown from a minute analysis
of the ethical writings of Seneca, in which the true function of
philosophy, as purely ethical, reforming, guiding, and sustain-
ing character and conduct, finds its most emphatic expression.
More than Epictetus or Musonius, for both of these had the
same philosophic outlook, Seneca deserves the title of Philo-
sophic Director. His career, and his position as confidential
adviser to the upper classes in Rome, fitted him in an especial
manner for the office of spiritual guide. His power in this re-
gard provoked the Seneca Sape Nosier^ of Tertullian, and led
St. Jerome and St. Augustine to believe that his spiritual in-
sight was derived from intercourse with St. Paul ; a mistake
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i9o6.] A Study in Early Christian Apologetics 441
all the more explicable in view of the spuripus letters of St.
Paul and Seneca which were in circulation in the fourth cen-
tury. The main purpose underlying the ethical system of "this
pagan monk, this idealist who would have been at home with
St. Jerome or Thomas a Kempis, was the production of the
Sapiens^ the man who sees in the light of Eternal Reason the
true proportions of things, whose affections have been trained
to obey the higher law, whose will has hardened into an un-
swerving conformity to it, in all the difficulties of conduct."
.Seneca has the mystic's contempt for knowledge for its own
sake. "There is only one truly liberal study, that which aims
at liberating the will from the bondage of desire."
Another phase of the philosophical activity of the age of
the Antonines was that represented by such men as Lucian»
Apollonius of Tyana, and Dion Chrysostom, moral teachers or
preachers, whom Professor Dill aptly enough styles Philosophic
Missionaries. The purposes and aims of these men, expound-
ing the same tenets of a reformed Stoicism as Seneca, differed
materially from his, inasmuch as his creed was rather an eso-
teric or aristocratic one, while their movement aimed at enno-
bling the great masses of mankind and, under the. name of
philosophy or culture, calling them to a higher standard of life.
"The moral teaching or preaching o^ the Antonine age natur-
ally adopted its tone to the tastes of its audience; there was
the discourse of the lecture room and the wider and more
boisterous appeal to the crowd. Both often passed under the
name pf philosophy, and both often disgraced that great name
by an affectation and insincerity which cast discredit on a gre^t
and beneficent movement of reform. The philosophical lecturer
.who has a serious moral purpose is in theory distinguished
from the rhetorical sophist, who trades in startling effects, who
rejoices in displaying his skill on any subject, however trivial
.or grotesque, who will expatiate on the gnat or the parrot, or
dfbate the propriety of a vestal's marriage. The sophist and
the lecturing philosopher were theoretically distinct. But, un-
fortunately, a mass of evidence goes to show that in many
cases the lecturing philosopher became a mere showy rhetori-
cian." How the serious purposes of the lecturing philosopher
.were vitiated by the execrable systems of education which had
grown up in the Roman Empire has already been sufficiently
demonstrated in the chapter on education in Bigg's work, Ihe
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442 A Study in Early Christian Apologetics [July,
Church's Task Under the Roman Empire. But, though the
moral lessons inculcated by these '' mendicant monks of pagan-
ism" have a strange familiarity to ears accustomed to the
teachings of the Christian Fathers, one cannot, after reading
Professor Dill's chapter on the subject, escape the conclusion
that the entire movement was a revolt rather than a reform.
The degradation and decay resulting from the observance of a
lax moral code were so evident that the satirist or the publi-
cist unconsciously became a teacher of ethics. While Professor
Dill does not say so, the weak point in the systems of Apol-
lonius and Dion was, undoubtedly, the lack of some great fun-
damental principle of religion round which their ethical teach-
ings could be grouped and from which they might derive the
necessary sanction. This it was, a^ much as the consciousness
of new religious needs, which gave rise to the third and most
significant characteristic of the philosophy of the period, whose
leaders are designated as Philosophic Theologians.
The chapter dealing with the Philosophic Theologian is, un-
questionably, incomplete. The plan and scope of the work did
not perhaps give the author an opportunity to expand it suffi-
ciently to bring out all the details and depict sufficiently the
significance of a movement whose main outlines are so well
described. There is no movement in history which has more
interest for the student of Christian doctrine than that which
resulted in the transformation of the religious chaos of the
time of Nero into the New Platonism which was taking definite
form in the time of the Antonines. How far the developed
Neo-Platonism of the later leaders of that school, of Porphyry
and Plotinus, was due to the growing influence of Christianity
in intellectual matters, certainly deserves some consideration.
It is, perhaps, too much to expect that the author could have
discussed all these matters, but certainly any picture of the re-
ligious conditions of the Roman world in the second century,
even when examined exclusively on the pagan side, is incom-
plete if it fails to take into account the religious experiences
of a man like St. Justin. Here was an earnest pagan who
reached the Gospel by the devious paths of pagan systems of
philosophy, and he represents an entire class. Then there was
that widespread movement known as Gnosticism. The re-
ligious ferment exemplified in the theories of Bardesanes, of
Carpocrates, or Marcion, representing so many different phases
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i9o6.] A Study in Earl y Christian Apologetics 443
of pagan theodicy, was quite as significant as that represented
by Marcus Aureiius. Celsus, whose attack on Christianity con-
tained in essence all the objections which have since been
brought against the religion taught by Christ, was a contem-
porary of Marcus Aureiius, so was the cynic Crescens, with
whom St. Justin held public disputations in Rome. Through
such channels as these, pagan as well as heretical, the great
masses still outside the Church must have been brought into
touch with the spirit and purposes of Christianity, and must
have derived from it truths which, though debased and dis-
torted, could arouse in them spiritual cravings which found
satisfaction in rites strangely similar in character and purpose
to the ceremonies of the Christian liturgy. It would be going
too far to assert that the influence of Christianity alone would
be sufficient to account for the transformation wrought in the
religious tone of the pagan world in the second century. There
were a multitude of influences at work, there was an unend-
ing process of syncretism and selection in progress, but among
the influences which resulted in the practical reorganization of
all the elements of ancient life, political, moral, and philosophi-
cal, into the unity of the New Platonism, that of Christianity
undoubtedly played an important part.
The last section of the book, devoted to a discussion of
the condition of religion in the Graeco- Roman world of the
second century, will undoubtedly have the greatest interest for
the Christian historian and apologist. As described by Pro-
fessor Dill, the subject abounds in the most startling contrasts.
Contrasts, however, which are not without their lesson, show-
ing as they do that in periods of great religious fervor the
grossest superstition is found side by side with the purest and
most intense faith. One cannot rise from a reading of the
chapter on superstition without a feeling of pity for the blind
devotees of oracles and astrology and signs and omens, who
'' practised the dark rites of foreign lands and spent their
substance on impostors who traded on their fears." Super-
stition in the epoch described by Professor Dill was no longer
"the exaggeration of Roman awe at the lightning, the flight
of birds, the entrails of a sacrificial victim, or anxious obser-
vance of the solemn words of ancestral formulae, every syllable
of which had to be guarded from mutilation or omission. All
the lands which had fallen to her sword were adding to the
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444 A STI/D Y in EARL Y CHRISTIA N APOLOGETICS [July,
spiritual* burden of Rome. If, in some cases, they enriched
h(er rather slender spiritual heritage, they also, multiplied the
sources of supernatural terror. If, in the mysteries of Isis
jaad Mithra, they exalted the soul in spiritual reverie, and gave
a promise of a coming life, they sent the Roman matron to
bathe in the freezing Tiber at early dawn and crawl on bleed-
ing knees over the Campus Martins, or purchase the interpre-
tation of a dream from some diviner of Palestine, or a horo-
scope from some trader in astral lore." The strange vagaries
which found lodgment in the minds of the masters and rul-
ers of the world, the inexplicable belief in the efficacy of amur-
lets, the strange deceptions which were practised by astrologers,
diviners, witches, and interpreters of dreams, would pass the
bounds of predulity were they confined to one class, or if they
were not vouched for by the most unimpeachable testimony.
Pevotees of the black arts were found in all grades of society,
from the emperor to the slave, and the belief in potions, phil
tres, oracles, and dreams, was as potent in the circles of the
learned,^ the philosophers, rhetoricians, and the historians, as
it was among the soldiers and the unlettered hordes of the
Subura.
In the chapter on Belief in Immortality, the various opin-
ions held by the Roman people regarding the state of the de-
parted soul are brought together from a good many sources,
from the pathetic, sometimes grotesque, inscriptions of the
ton^bs, and from the writings of philosophers and poets, and
they show that, with the exception of the sceptics among the
cultured classes, the people of the Roman Empire devoutly
'believed in the survival of the soul after death. Their belief
sometimes led to strange manifestations of piety towards the
departed, but it was a good preparation for the Oriental reli-
gions with more definite doctrines, which came on the scene
in the second century, and almost superseded the old Roman
religion.
That this ancestral religion of the Romans lasted until the
time of Marcus Aurelius was due to its national character and
political significance. " The Emperors, from Augustus, foond
religion a potent ally of sovereignty, and the example of the
master of the world was a great force." Whatever vitality the
worship of the national gods of Rome possessed in the second
century was unquestionably due to the influence of Roman
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i9o6.] A Study in Early Christian Apologetics 445
officialdom and the well- endowed colleges of priests and augurs.
The lack of interest in Ju-piter and Minerva was not by any
means significant of a lack of interest in religion in general.
The Roman mind had outgrown the dry and lifeless worship
of the national gods. The contact with other peoples, and all
those various forces which changed the Romai) of the Repub-
lic into the Hellene of the Empire, produced a correspondingly
wide mental horizon in things religious, and awakened spirit-
ual cravings which the old creed could not satisfy. Its place
was taken by foreign worships. Chief among these were the
cult of Ms^na Mater, the worship of Isis and Serapis, and the
religion of Mithra. To each of these the author devotes a
special chapter. The discussion of these religions brings us
very close to debatable ground. In their doctrines as well as
their rites they approached at times very close to Christianity,
and the question as to whether these similarities may have re-
sulted from a knowledge of the tenets and the ceremonies of
the Church, or whether they were the result of a natural evo-
lution in the expression of religious fervor under the stress of
new circumstances, will occupy the pens of controversialists
for some time. The first in point, of time of the Eastern reli-
gions to reach Rome was that of Magna Mater. It was a
cruel, bloody cult at first interdicted in Rome, which after-
wards exercised an " irresistible fascination over the imagina-
tion of the vulgar." The most striking feature of this Orien-
tal cult, the baptism of blood in the taurobolium, which was
a rite of such strange enthralling influence that it needed all
the force of the Christian Empire to extinguish it. It is im-
possible in this summary to discuss the tenets and the ritual
of these three creeds, which in the third and fourth centuries
challenged the supremacy of Christianity. It will be sufficient
here to point out a fact of great importance on which Profes-
soi Dill lays stress, and to which sufficient attention is not al-
ways paid, viz.^ that those cults, after their extension to places
other than their original home, gradually assumed new char-
acteristics and took on features very closely resembling the
most salient points of Christian thought and worship. The
chapter on Isis and Serapis is, as might be expected, drawn
largely from Lafaye's work, while that on the Religion of
Mithra is based entirely on the work of Cumont. The author
does not give a bibliography, but the last two names are sufii-
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446 A Study in Earl y Christian Apologetics [July.
cient testimony of the value of his secondary sources. His
work is, as has already been said, rather a series of special
treatises than a consecutive narrative, and this plan has made
it possible tor him to make available for English readers the
results of the labors of such men as Preller, Mommsen, Fried-
lander, Murtha, and Boissier.
There is much more in the work than the title would in-
dicate or than it has been possible in this summary to point
out. It is a profound analysis of the mind of the people of
the Roman Empire from Nero to Marcus Aurelius as well as
a picture of the external conditions in society and in ritual to
which the ideas of the time gave rise. It is a book which will
form a useful introduction to the study of the relations of
Church and State in the fourth and fifth centuries, when pa
ganism made its last stand against the combined forces of
Christianity and imperial ordinance, and will render intelligible
the passionate denunciation of pagan ri^es by the Christian
apologists who saw in them demoniacally inspired travesties
of the Christian Sacraments.
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CHILDHOOD IN ENGLISH SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY
POETRY.
BY LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY.
|T is a commonplace now with us that Blake and
Wordsworth were the great modern pioneers of
naturalness in literature; that they broke new
ground in the field of sympathetic apprehension,
and in that of sincere expression. We say also
that the child came in with Blake and Wordsworth, the child
as we know and study and reverence him : a little world of
delight and mystery, complete in himself. But to the whole
of the seventeenth century (and indeed to the whole of the
eighteenth, that is, roughly speaking, from Shakespeare, Jon-
son, and Greene, on to Blake, almost without exception) the
child was but a thwarted adult, tolerated only because be
would sometime redeem his present state of servility and in-
capacity by growing up. The young were as so many foolish
lambs baaing on the hills, valuable to their proprietors as mar-
ketable mutton in posse. Or at least the poets so interpreted
their value. To go to an early grave was an offence against
landed interests and the rights of property. In any epitaph
or elegy of the time, chosen at random, one finds some little
boy bitterly mourned because he had died with all his imper-
fections upon his head, and would never redeem the trouble
taken to engender him by pursuing a career of his own ; while
a little girl is accused of cheating nature, and the predestined
swain, by a sort of monstrous truancy whereby she gives the
slip to her destiny (apparently imminent at three years old),
as wife and mother. The only praise which poor little children
could be sure of was that they were like — not children ! — but
grown women and men. Neither as a physical fact nor as a
spiritual state had childhood any adequate recognition.
Nicholas Murford, in his Fragmenta Poetica^ 1650, mourns
his daughter Amy, his " deare babe,"
Whose Bodie was so light it might have gone
To Heav'n without a Resurrection ;
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448 Childhood in English [July,
but after this sudden charming "conceit/' he must yet go on
to say, with true emotion but perverted taste :
Who ever saw such Matron Lookes, such smiles,
Such speaking Actions, woman- childish wiles,
To make herself disport ? But, Oh ! I make
My self e new Grief, and bid my Heart re-ake.
Then there was a Capell, Charles by name, who died young
on Christmas Day, 1656, and was honored in his "funeralls,"
by Affectuum Decidua^ the product of several of his fellow-
Oxonians. Among these was one Edward Lowe, who fails not
to apostrophize the barely sixteen-year-old ghost:
Who saw you youngest never knew you Childe !
He could think, it is plain, of no more heady compliment
To us, with our changed ideas, this would be a most damag-
ing indictment against Master Capell. But we know better;
for we have Vandyck's exquisitely childish children to help
correct any enforced suspicion that they were a dynasty of
horrid little prigs.
This entirely typical note of ** praising the right thing for
the wrong reason " is everywhere audible to those familiar with
the literature of the time. As with many other characteristic
historic traits, so with this: it is illustrated best from least
conspicuous sources. Two epitaphs, among other things, fig-
ure in a certain manuscript quarto of the great Rawlinson Col-
lection in the Bodleian Library. The first, "On the death of
Joseph Barker, aged 10 yeares," says of the little fellow that
he was
One that at Nine was aged; and before
Ten came, excelled some who had seene fourscore.
Also, that
We knew him wittie, mild,
Active, discrete; a man's heart in a Childe,
Whom Nature only fram'd that men might see
And read themselves in an Epitome.
Another babe, Mary Bainbrigge, carefully labelled as "a
virtuous young Gentlewoman," is prettily called
A harvest hoarded in a Seed,
And gardens crowded in a Rose.
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I906.] SEVENTEENTH- CENTURY POETRY 449
But again :
For in this little Sparke did lie
More Worjth than wee co'd prophesy,
Or Poets e'er bespeak, when wine
Made them write th' impossible Line!
And yet this Bud is snatcht from Life
Before 'tis blowne into a Wife.
The passions, the arts, the " whole duty of man," the impact
of sickening destiny en bloc^ hang over the seventeenth- cen-
tury cradle, in unlovely prematurity. Marriage and mother-
hood cannot be parted, it would appear, from the image of
the lisping daughter, nor trade or statecraft or arms from the
image of the unweaned heir. The innumerable dedications,
Birthday Odes, and such things, addressed to the princelings of
King Charles L, are all absurdly unbefitting in every sentiment,
and sadly devoid of humor. Sedley's playful compliments to
children are in the language of the most accomplished gal-
lantry. Marvell, who wrote lovingly for the little girl, Mary
Fairfax, whose tutor at Nun Appleton he was ; for " little
T. C. in a prospect of flowers " ; and presumably for other
children, sins by omission; for, though he does not drag the
supposititious future into his foreground, he lets fall no word or
line which meets the " six-years' darling of a pigmy size " on
his own ground, and salutes him for what he is, as Mr. Swin-
burne knows incomparably well how to do.
Even Carew does not always keep to the beautiful un-
forced tone of his "Darling in an Urne"; even the Matchless
Orinda, a woman level headed and tender-hearted, thinks it
the flower of commendation to say of the little creature whom
she laments:
She was by Nature and her Parents' care
A Woman long before most others are.
Of the sanctity of childhood as childhood, these good poets,
with all their salient imagination, and their command of the
uses of language, knew literally nothing at all. Therefore, any
contemporary mention of the little ones which avoids this crass
anticipation, this throwing them out of their own milieu^ to be
judged under an alien title and by inappropriate standards, be-
comes, by virtue of that break with existing conventions, no-
VOL. Lxxxiii.— 29
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450 Childhood in English [July,
table and welcome. We read with delight in Earle's Micro-
Cosmographie that caressing reference to the death of a child,
"the best coppie of Adam." It ends: " Hee is the Christian's
example and the old man's relapse; the one imitates his pure-
nessci and the other falls into his simplicities. Could hee putt
off his bodie with his little Coate, he had gott Eternity without
a burden, and exchanged but one Heaven for another."
Just as dewy with tenderness is Jeremy Taylor, in many a
remembered phrase. " The babe/' he says, " is taken into
Paradise before he knows Good and Evill; for that knowledge
threw our great Father out, and this innocence returnes the
Child thither. . . • He is snatch'd from the dangers of an
evill Choise, and carried to his little Cell of felicity, where he
can weep no more."
Few others of the time have such a sense of the appealing
pathos of infancy. Crashaw, indeed, was touched with it; so
was Quarles. Some homely lines of the latter show a truth of
perception on this subject, and a loving knowledge of it, which
are comparable to the rosy outlines of some tiny body on a
canvas of Correggio's or of Sodoma's. But the earliest out-
spoken evidence of a sympathetic recurrence to the lost ideal
that a child is beautiful because of, and not despite his
childhood, seems to be William Cartwright's. Cartwright died
in 1643. He had a very great personal popularity, and he led
blamelessly his short, busy life: in these particulars he stands
with Sidney, Falkland, and Lovelace.
Cartwright, unjustly enough, is almost the most forgotten
of the forgotten Carolians. Had he done nothing else for
English letters than to rescue one sweet ideal, his unmarked
grave at Oxford should be a fragrant place to thoughtful minds.
In his sUnzas "To Mr. W. B., on the Birth of his First Childe,'*
there is something cognate to the loveliest lines ever written
about a baby, Catullus' lines on a visionary little one laugh-
ing from his mother's breast into his father's eyes, '* semihiante
labello.** And Cartwright returns to the theme, in a more
moral and symbolistic mood, when he comes to write the brief
poem called " Consideration."
Now, " Consideration," as literature, gives no very definite
thrill to the jaded modern reader; yet it has a singular historic
significance which has not hitherto been noted. Its modest
eighteen lines were generative, ancestral; and their informing
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i9o6. ] Se venteenth- Centur y poe try 451
spirit was soon taken up by a better poet than Cartwright.
Henry Vaughan the undergraduate, was a lover of Cartwright
the proctor, whom he says he "did but see" during a short
career at the University ; it looks as though Vaughan read him
diligently, for he was clearly a great "purveyor" from him.
Was it not from Cartwright, in this attractive particular, that
Henry Vaughan the Silurist received the torch which he
passed on, as we all know, to Wordsworth ? The inherent, in-
dependent beauty of childhood, and " the innocence of chil-
dren as the highest moral condition," were not established in
the apologetics of English poetry until Cartwright and Vaughan
planted them there. Men had tacitly agreed to disregard, not
only the individuality of little children, but all the force of that
difficult and mystical word in the Gospel of St. Matthew:
" Nisi efficiamur sicut parvuliy
What is very curious is that only Cartwright in his genera-
tion, as only Coleridge in his, seems to have had the twofold
sense of the physical sweetness of childhood, and of the child's
Uranian fitness to be "set in the midst" for our edification
and inner conformity. No prose or verse ever written by
Henry Vaughan (if we except the loving but rather non-com-
mittal "Burial of an Infant") proves beyond cavil that the
greater recognition necessarily includes the lesser; while Words-
worth, who has so magnificently haloed the infant brow, yet
stops short of the endearing paradox of the New Testament :
for his humility was not of a kind always to aspire to imitate
what it praised. The spiritual distance between Cartwright and
Henry Vaughan in the history of English feeling about child-
hood and children, is great, and great is the distance between
Vaughan and Wordsworth.
It would not be just to pass silently over the recurrent in-
spirations of Thomas Traherne, Mr. DobeU's valued foundlirg,
who won an instant place for himself ^hen intrcduccd to the
public of our own day. Traherne is full of the thought of
childhood, and expatiates upon it after a far more leisurely
fashion than Vaughan, and with a touch of cosmic philosophy
somewhat akin to Vaughan's own. But Traherne wrote a score
of years later. To say this is to broach the probability that
he had read Cartwright, for everybody read Cartwright then;
and there are plausible reasons, more biographical than specu-
lative, for thinking that he may also have read Vaughan, whom
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452 Childhood in English [July,
nobody read. Would it be rash to hazard the inference that
Traherne's whole tone, one of constant apostrophe, ejaculation,
and almost rapturously reiterated assent, is suggestive of the
delighted acquiescence of one intelligence catching fire from
the theories of another, rather than of the shock of original
ideas upon the consciousness of a lonely poet ? Yet Traherne
himself, on the whole, despite his homespun coat and his
cloistral diffusiveness, is a highly original product. He can
never have been an operative force, for his manuscripts were
privately circulated, so far as we can surmise, only in a country
district, and lay unknown and neglected for centuries. Inter-
esting witness as he is, on this topic, for quality, and for quan-
tity surely unique, we may leave him out of the reckoning.
Not so with Thomas Vaughan, twin to Henry, who had
undoubted influence over his brother, and who was a man born
to see with his own eyes many metaphysical novelties. Thomas
was one of the deflected lights of that too thoughtful age: he
died as an estray, a spirit unfulfilled, obsessed by alchemical
dreams; and only students of alchemy now know his books.
But those little prose duodecimos prove, amid their vague
wastes, that he, in no less degree than his brother, possessed
reflective and even creative faculties of a kind most unusual.
Thomas Vaughan, masked as " Eugenius Philalethes," shows us
repeatedly what were his impressions and convictions about
children. He speaks his own thought; and his speech is abso-
lutely modern. (Shall we flatter ourselves that this is equiva-
lent to being absolutely right ?) One passage out of many must
suffice to illustrate it, from the animated preface to Euphra-
tes y or The Water of Life^ 1655. His theme, for the moment,
is the instinctive wisdom of children. " A Child, I suppose, in
puris naturalibuSy before education alters and ferments him, is
a Subject hath not been much considered ; for men respect
him not till he is companie for them ; and then, indeed, they
spoile him." An extremely radical utterance, when one reverts
to the artificial epitaphs of contemporary origin already quoted
in this article ! To all that opinionated England, a child was
a poor thing while he ran wild; to one cavalier Welshman,
and to the very few who may have thought with him, a child
was a poor thing when once he was tamed, but a delight to
be enjoyed, and a revelation to be heeded, in his pristine es-
tate. Both Vaughans were profoundly Christian^ They stood
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1 906. ] SE VENTEENTH- CENTUR Y POE try 453
apart, in their attitude towards despised youth, as they ran
counter to current prejudice in their gentleness of heart to-
wards Catholics and Jews (but not, alas, towards Puritan Dis-
senters); in the specific worship of natural beauty; in their
sense of the wholeness of things, and the grand solidarity of
''trees, beasts, and men" with the "knowing glorious Spirit"
Who made them, and forgets them not.
Cartwright is a long- ignored precursor, but he is the redis-
coverer of the child. He was the first to stem a wholesale
and most misguided depreciation, which set in after the earlier
Elizabethans had passed away ; and in no Elizabethan, not even
in South welU occurs his strong neo- Christian affirmation of the
Nisi efficiamur. Long before Traherne died (1674) that concep-
tion of childhood as an excellence resting on its ethic, if not
yet fully on its asstbetic principle, was securely grafted on to
popular thought, and though long inert there, gave promise of
blossom and fruit in our later literature. Ther^ is unimpeacha-
ble corroboration of Cartwright, on the eve of the Restoration,
by good old Thomas Jordan, in his Fragmenta Poetica. Jor-
dan was a very minor poet, who once or twice, like so many
very minor poets of that astonishing time, hit upon the divin-
est ideas or words, or both ; but in general, he is eminently
"safe" and commonplace. Whatever Jordan says and does is
pretty sure to be what is said and done in his social vicinity.
It excuses further search to accept him as an oracle. He af-
fectionately tells us of the young child (while playing ducks
and drakes with English accentuation):
Oh, he that will receaye so sweet a flower
Into his bosome, hugs his Saviour !
If children. Lord, are acceptable, then
Make me a child: let me be born again
But to return to Cartwright. With the clarifying of his
thought, as with the pruning of his congested language, he had
little to do. His utterance is the rough, pathetically hurried,
but highly suggestive utterance of a harrassed generation. The
poem in which he presents the religious aspects of a subject
which he had already shown that he understood by the affec-
tions, is thus given in his thick posthumous quarto of 165 1.
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454 Childhood in English f July*
CONSIDERATION.
Foole that I was, that little of my span
Which I have sinn'd until it stiles me man,
I counted life, til] now! Henceforth I'l say
Twas but a drowzy lingring, or delay.
Let it, forgotten, perish; let none tell
What I then was; to live is to live well.
Off, then, thou Old Man, and give place unto
The Ancient of Dales ; let Him renew
Mine age, like to the eagle's, and endow
My breast with Innocence: that he whom thou '
Hast made a man of sin, and subtly sworn
A Vassall to thy tyranny, may turn
Infant again, and, having all of child.
Want wit hereafter to be so beguild.
O Thou that art the Way ! direct me still
In this long tedious Pilgrimage, and till
Thy Voice be born, lock up my looser tongue.
He onely is best growne that's thus turn'd young.
Nobly is this supplemented, or rather perfected, by the
Silurist's " Retreat," *' Corruption," and " Childhood " : by that
*' angell -infancy "
When yet I had not walk'd above
A mile or two from my First Love, . . .
But felt through all this fleshly dress
Bright shootes of everlastingness;
by the thought of ancient man
who
Who shin'd a little, and by those weak rays
Had some glimpse of his birth ;
Saw Heaven ore his head, and knew from whence
He came, condemned, hither;
by the thought- packed invocation to the
Age of Mysteries, which he
Must live twice that would God's face see.
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i9o6.] Seventeenth-Century Poetry 455
Vaughan here is unusually explicit. His diction seems
aware in every fibre how new and daring is the philosophy
to which it lends motion. Beside Cartwright's faint, holy,
lyrical note, Vaughan's is like that of silver hammers: a quick
and authentic music.
How do I study now, and scan
Thee more than e'er I studied man !
And onely see, through a long night.
Thy edges, and thy bordering light.
Oh, for thy centre and mid-day !
For that, sure, is the Narrow Way.
To track any classic, such as the great Ode on the Intima-
tions, back to its sources, is like following inland and upward
the confluent mountain streams. One looks with renewed sat-
isfaction, from their feeble but sparkling well-heads on high
ground, to ''the vision splendid" which fills the horizon:
The mighty waters rolling evermore.
We have the great Ode; but we have not from any singer
all there is to sing of the child. In English letters he has had
no one complete and symmetrical exposition. We capture here
his little soulless body, there his bodiless soul : he is either a
mere " flower in the crannied wall," giving fragrant kisses ; or
he is a theological abstraction. Critics might be forgiven if
they feel inclined to expect something of a living poet who
holds in his hand all the pigments for portraying the child :
he has the love, the masterly art, and the grasp on the eter-
nities of Catholic philosophy. But we get too few gifts from
Mr. Francis Thompson. He is himself a Carolian of the true
breed, and therefore, and unhappily for us, abstinent by nature.
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SOME LETTERS OF FATHER HECKER.
EDITED BY ABBOT GASQUET. O.S.B.
9TH Avenue and 59TH Street,
New Yohk City, September 20, 1864.
My dear old Friend:
Father Denny, of the Oblates, leaves here to-morrow for
London. Father Denny is a fine fellow, not altogether spoiled
by your folks. He will tell you all about us and our doings;
see him after his return.
What are you about nowadays — Home and Foreign dead
gone? We are inclined to think that you come down without
altogether sufficient reason. But you niay have had your day,
and likely there was a monetary reason that weighed most in
the scales. Are you ready for a new start ? In what way,
shape, or form? You can't stop where you are. What next?
Come on this side of the ocean, and we will give you full
swing to fire away. Doe3n't old Brownson pitch in all around ?
Wouldn't you like to have the same fun ?
The Paulist Community has not given up the ghost, but is
alive and kicking. Our work will come bye and bye. We pub-
lish another volume of Sermons this winter.
Our horrid war still hangs on. Sherman (a convert) has given
the rebellion a stunning blow in taking Atlanta. We are all in
the dark as to further and future results. It is idle to speciilate.
The North, by mere strength and wealth, must put down the
rebellion. Our generals and men are now ready for real fight-
ing. God help us, then you will exclaim, how many more men
are you going to kill ? I do not think, nor ever have thought,
that the Union is gone.
Now good-bye, old fellow, and write and pay your debts.
My kindest regards to Mrs. Simpson.
Ever yours faithfully,
I. T. Hecker.
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i9o6.] SOME Letters of Father Hecker 457
New York, May 29, 1865.
My dear Friend:
How do you do ? Are you hibernating, dead, or alive ?
What are you doing, writing, or cogitating ? It is years since I
heard a word from you. The death of the Home and Foreign
didn't kill you I Open your lips, and speaking, speak.
Well, '' the cruel war is over." The South is handsomely
whipped. Look out you John Bulls across the water. But
don't be alarmed overmuch. How gently the old Bull roars
across the water of late to his American cousins. Isn't it
ridiculous ? This morning's news gives an account of the sur-
render of the last of the rebel army in Texas under the com-
mand of Kirby Smith.
The national debt is big; it will, however, be managed.
There is now on foot a prospect of paying it off by voluntary
contributions $10,000 a share. The project is not so absurd.
We have done ab&urder things in the eyes of your folks than
that. The resources of the country have developed during the
war enormously. I do not think there is much reason forsup-
posing that we are going to war with either England, France,
or Mexico. Canada and Mexico, for the present, are safe. In-
ter nos, neither is worth a war. And in the meantime we need
to repair the ravages made by the war in the South. The
North knows nothing about it except in the shape of deaths,
taxes, and sudden fortunes among contractors.
The war has shoved ahead our religion one generation. It
has opened the eyes of the sober and conservative men and
women of the country to the real character of our Holy Faith.
The number of conversions on both sides, during the war, has
been very great. The Catholic religion stands in a different
attitude before the people, and in a most favorable light in
contrast with Protestantism. The ministers feel this, and Epis-
copalians, Presbyterians, etc., etc., are endeavoring to form a
league of all Protestants against the fearful strides of Roman-
ism, *' the Man of Sin," the archenemy of civil and religious
liberty ! It will end in their more complete overthrow. Let
the heathen rage.
Have you seen The Catholic World ? I have sent you
the two numbers out. It is the best one can do now. It is
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458 SOME LETTERS OF FATHER HECKER [July,
altogether eclectic, nothing original. It will prepare the way
for the other. Brownson^s Review has gone the way of the
Foreign. It is gone dead, but not to the "bad." Brownson is
writing on government, a book. He intends to write one on
philosophy and another on theology.
I have been hard at work, with a few other friends of bis,
in getting up an annuity of $i,ooo for him. The sum is nearly
reached that is required.
Our little Community has suffered a great loss in the death
of Father Baker. He was a splendid man and priest; admired
and loved by every one. His death was most gentle. He died
with typhus-pneumonia, caught on a sick call. We are only
six. Two of these quite broken down. A fine set of fellows
are we to set on foot the conversion of the country. Don't be
alarmed. We have now taken root in eternity. We are not
shabbier than the Apostles were in the natural order. If twelve
of them were enough to put on foot the conquest of the world,
six of us are enough for this continent. But — But what?
Anyhow we intend to live, work, and die bravely. And as for
the rest, let those who follow look to it.
Father Baker's death has energized me in all directions.
He was a convert from Anglicanism. We intend to publish
his biography and sermons, this summer, perhaps.
I believe I told you some time ago that I was cogitating
something on the spiritual life. Nothing new, of course, in
principle, but putting old principles in a new light, and others
more prominently. I go in considerably for nature and hu-
man nature, and allow nothing to be substituted in their place.
I am for giving a larger scope to our activity in all ways. I
really believe with my whole soul, and in all sympathy, in God
the Father Almighty, Creator of all things visible and invisible.
I am inclined to think that I shall make a fool of myself —
"Not the first time!" You be quiet. Title— perhaps — "Per-
fect Life in Common Ways."
Can you suggest anything in the way of improving THE
Catholic World ? I should like to republish more scientific
articles, if I could only find them.
Now, old fellow, good-bye — and God bless you and yours.
My kindest remembrance to Mrs. Simpson, and believe me
ever yours, sincerely and faithfully, I. T. Hecker,
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i9o6.] Some Letters of Father Hecker 459
Corner qth Avenue and 59TH Street,
New York, May 21, 1866.
My dear Friend:
• I have a bushel of things to say to you, but shall not get
out more than a peck at most.
First of all, the predictions of your English folk, fightingly,
financially, and politically, about this country do no credit to
your prophetic gifts. We are on our feet again, more power-
ful than before, more sober, and perhaps all the more danger-
ous. The youth of the country is passed, and war has sud-
denly placed us in our manhood, more conscious of our re-
sponsibility, of our strength, and the greatness of our future.
I was glad when I heard that the two attempts to lay the
cable across the Atlantic were failures. The influence of Eu-
rope over our people was too great, and would have hindered
our free development. Lay a dozen across the Atlantic now,
and all the better. The preponderance of magnetism will pass
now from the new to the old world. Be not surprised if in
ten years, more or less. New York turns up to be the finan-
cial centre of all the world. The United States will not only
produce the raw material in greater abundance than ever, but
add also to its value, skill, and labor, which hitherto it did
not. As things are, and likely to be, our country was never
more promising; never so much so.
But I must close on this theme, lest you say: ''Hecker is
gassing.V
As to Church aflFairs, our recent troubles have placed our
faith in a new and better position. Strange to say, it is re-
garded with more interest and earnestness in all parts of the
country. No one can fully realize the attitude of the Church
to the country during and since the war. It was a sectional
strife, owing in a great measure, if not principally, to a fanati-
cal and one sided religion. The reflecting class everywhere
feel this, and have become alienated from Protestantism and
feel drawn to Holy Church. The number of conversions dur-
ing the war on both sides, and since, and from the more in-
telligent classes, has been greater than ever before. The war
has worked wonders for the faith.
The Catholic World since its second year, April last, is
open to original articles. The "Problems of the Age" are
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46o Some Letters of Father Hecker [July,
by Hewit. Brownson wrote the criticism of Spencer in the
June number. The success of The Catholic World is noth-
ing to brag of, though it has the approval of the hierarchy.
Its subscribers number only 4,000 My brother backs me up
in funds. I should be delighted to get an article from your
pen, if you will not pitch into all creation and the rest of
nunkind. Do tell me what are you about ?
I have been seriously engaged for several months in start-
ing a Tract Society. Several [tracts] are out, and I shall send
them to you. " The Plea of Sincerity " is by I. T. H. Will
you write a tract of four or eight pages? Amn*t I a beggar?
Since Easter Sunday I have obtained, in this city, near $20,000
as a special fund to sustain the work. Memberships will sup-
ply the general fund. The organization will be extended over
all parts of the country. It is regarded as a big affair, and
promises to be so. We are only handling the acorn now.
The Community of St. Paul is alive yet. We have six of
the right kind of young men as students. You will hear a re-
port from our little giant some day — if you live long enough.
Do you ever dream of making a trip to this country ? I do for
you.
We are to have a Plenary Council in Baltimore in October
next; big doings are expected.*
What are people doing in old England ? Fossilizing as
they are wont ? Is everybody dead ? It did me good that
Dr. Newman was smoked out by old Pusey. His letter was
splendid, bold, hanest, I republished it in pamphlet fqrm, and
in The Catholic World. t
The Archbishop of St. Louis | wrote to me, that it was
the best that had ever been written on the Blessed Virgin.
His approval, in my estimation, is worth more than that of all
the rest of the hierarchy put together.
My kindest regards to Mrs. Simpson, and believe me as ever,
Yours faithfully,
I. T. Hecker.
* Father Hecker was invited to preach one of the sermons at this Council, and he took
for his theme: "The Future Triumph of the Church.'*
fThii was "A Letter to the Rev. E. B. Pusey, D.D., on his recent EireBicon.*' reprinted
in the April number of The Catholic World. Vol, III, Pp. 46-91.
t Archbishop Kenrick.
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i9o6.] Some Letters of Father Hecker 461
Corner qth Avenue and 59TH Street,
New York, April 24, 1867.
My dear Friend:
I have made two resolutions: never to complain of want
of time; or to expect ever to have more leisure than at the
present moment. I start at once in answer to your letter of
the 1 8th of September. The proposition to Dr. Brownson I
sent to him, and suppose he gave you an answer. I have not
seen him for several months; he is laid up with gout in his
foot, and can't get over here. He is a contributor to The
Catholic World, and nearly every month he furnishes an
article for its columns. The Catholic World is getting on
its legs. It has got to go; and it begins to move. An article
on Dr. Bacon in the April number, by Father Hewit, has at-
tracted a great deal of attention. Do you get The Catholic
World ? I have sent it. There is in the same number an
article on '' Ritualism," detailing its echo on this side of the
Atlantic. Your remarks on this subject, in yours of Septem-
ber, I partially incorporated in a sermon which I gave at the
Council in Baltimore. This sermon is published among others
delivered during the Council in a volume, and should you read
it, you would exclaim: ''That's Hecker all over!'' Its sub-
ject was: "The Triumph of the Church."
The pastoral of the Council warmly approves and recom-
mends to the faithful "The Catholic Publication Society." You
will iind the C. P. S.'s Circular among the advertising sheets of
the April number of The Catholic World. Read it, and
see what I am about. It's a big thing — an elephant! The
publication house will be opened the ist of May in a business
part of the city.
I have received the two first numbers of The Chronicle.
Will it exchange with THE CATHOLIC World ? If it will not,
please have it continued from No. 2, and I shall have to pay
the subscription price.
We have got through with our Civil War, and things here
are making for peace. Reconstruction in the South will slowly
come about. But where are you in Europe drifting to? Please
answer that. It is astonishing what an amount of taxation the
Americans willingly submit to. The idea is to get rid of our
debt as soon as possible. The country is young, productive
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462 Some Letters of Father Hecker [July,
beyond all calculations, and increasing in population beyocd
the reach of imagination — it can pay its debts — pay them ^—
and will.
The recent struggle has placed our religion in a more fa-
vorable aspect in all sections of the country — how strange! We
never had so many conversions in all parts of the country, acd
from all opinions, as at present. The crumbling of Protestant-
ism and the advancement of Catholicity keep step together.
Whether we Catholics will it, or will it not, the dominant influ-
ence in our Republic in fifteen or twenty years will be Catho-
lic. The numerical increase by immigration, and by births in
comparison with Protestants, in the United States, will bring
this about of themselves. What a fearful responsibility this
throws upon us here. The moulding of the destiny of our
promising great Republic is being placed by God's Providence
in our hands. Many far-seeing men begin to see this, and,
what is almost incredible, seek to prepare the way for it,
though they are not Catholics. There has come a favorable
change in the minds of the American people, as a people, in
their attitude towards the Catholic Church. Come over here
and have a good time with
Your old, sincere, and faithful friend,
I. T. Hecker.
My kindest regards to Mrs. Simpson. The Paulists are
"going ahead" — eight students preparing for orders.
New York, June 15, 1867.
My dear Friend:
Some weeks ago I sent a note to your address begging of
you to send me The Cosmopolitan^ I think that is the name of
your new organ. Two numbers I have received, and if you
will not exchange with The Catholic World, send on your
bill.
How about the Catholic Congress at Malines in September?
I have a notion of attending it, in view of posting myself up
in case we start one here. We need one here badly. Will you
be there? Is it worth the while for my purposes?
This Catholic Publication Society has got on my brain, and
I am working like a trooper in its interest. It does go.
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i9o6.] Some Letters of Father Hecker 465
The Catholic World stands much better than it did, and
promises still more. What you will think* of its meeting with
favor from the better class of non- Catholic journals I don't
know, but it does. It is read extensively among Protestants.
You wrote an article in The Rambler^ **Was Shakespeare a
Catholic?" Rio's book has provoked a great deal of criticism
in France, Germany, and England. Could you not write an-
other on the same subject, taking advantage of whatever new
material has been brought out, and bring the controversy down
to the day for The Catholic World?
Catholicity in this country never stood so prominently and
so favorably before the public mind as it does now. We are
gaining fast, and Protestantism is as fast losing. Since Christ-
mas we have received thirty or more converts.
Brownson has been laid up with gout — is on his feet again.
Kindest regards to Mrs. Simpson.
Write me about the Congress.
Faithfully yours,
I. T, Hecker.
P. S. — I send you a copy of The Conflicts of Christianity^
Ancient and Modern^ by a friend of mine. Notice it in some of
your papers.
New York, September 29, 1869.
My dear Friend:
In the latter part of the first week of November I expect
to be in London on my way to the Vatican Council, as pro-
curator for the Bishop of Columbus, Ohio. My intention is
to stop at Ford's Hotel.
Now there is no one in London that I would rather see
than you and your wife. Drop a line to Burns & Gates in
time, that on my arrival I may know whether you are at home,
or elsewhere.
I leave here by the Russia on the 20th of October. I shall
get off at Queenstown and stay a day or two in Dublin.
Since we met, my labors have accumulated considerably,
and thus far have been blessed with success. No one, I feel
assured, will be more gratified than you of this news.
Our Community, The Catholic World, and the Catholic
Publication Society are all in a fair way.
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464 Some Letters of Father Hecker [July,
Our Community numbers seven priests and thirteen students.
A good share of my time last winter was given to lectures
before Protestant audiences on Catholic topics. My trip to
Rome will hinder my acceptance of invitations for the same
work this winter. They get Catholicity, and pay me for giv-
ing it $100 a lecture. That's fun, isn't it? "But not Apos-
tolic?" Not too fast. Were I to offer to lecture without pay,
my services would not be accepted.
What a mess P. Hyacinth has made of it! The telegram
has not given us his letter in full, but enough to show that
he has put himself hors de combat. What a foolish thing!
I ordered TuE Catholic World to be sent to your ad-
dress, and I suppose you receive it.
Pay attention to the articles " On the Origin of Species," the
first will appear in the November number. It is an attempt
at a complete upset of Darwin's theory^ variety is due not to
evolution, but to reversion.
My kindest regards to your wife. God bless you both.
Affectionately yours,
I. T. Hecker.
Hallamay's Hotel, 47 and 48 Dover Street,
London, September 23, 1875.
My dear Friend:
We are not to meet then I Such seems now to be the
course of things. '* Grin and bear it," is the only remedy, I
suppose I
As to my pamphlet — fire away ! One half hour's talk would
be worth a sight to me. Perhaps you might see in it what
Liberatore, S.J., did An Universal Programme of Religion. He
wished to have it translated into Italian. Strange it has re-
ceived the hearty approval of the extremes of different parties
of the Church. For instance, " Unita Cattollica," and the Ho-
henloes — Cardinal and Ambassador. The latter desired to see
it done in German. Herder, of Freiburg, has published it
This is only a specimen.
But you will say no wonder, it is so general in its princi-
ples. Is it? Suppose you draw a single conclusion from them
and what then ? As the Church three centuries ago on her
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I906.] SOME LETTERS OF FATHER HECKER 465
practical side was, in view of the then existing dangers, organ-
ized for the greater restriction of personal action, so in view
of present dangers she should be recast for the greater expan-
sion of individual action. Not by the suppression of authority
or discipline, but in fortifying individual action, and greater
fidelity to the action of the Holy Spirit in the soul. Organize
the Church with the characteristics of the Saxon elements as
she has been with the Latin- Celtic — not in the spirit of an-
tagonism, as Dollinger, etc., but on a deeper penetration of
her truth.
But I am drifting out to sea — as there are 1,000 other
points, similar to these, susceptible of practical application, to
those who have eyes to see.
Can't you just put down, i, 2, 3, etc., your points of at-
tack on paper for me ? Do so, old fellow. They will get a
hearing.
My intention was and is to see Dr. Newman before my
return. I shall drop him a line and go on the 29th from
London.
This is too bad for you to clear out in this way — I can't
postpone my departure.
Au revolt J If my instincts don't deceive me, you will find
me stirring up folks this side of the water some day.
God bless you. Faithfully,
L T. Hecker.
(the end.)
VOL. LXXXIII.— 30
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LIONEL JOHNSON: POET AND CRITIC.
BY KATHERINE BR£GY.
T is scarcely four years since the news of Lionel
Johnson's early and tragic death saddened the
literary world. The feeling of personal loss was
very widespread at the time — the consciousness
that his place would be exceedingly difficult to
iill, and yet could not, save with serious detriment, be left
empty. He had stood for something definite and something
high. As poet, he had clothed conceptions of delicate and
poignant loveliness in the white robe of almost classic severity.
As critic, he had shown himself a master of sure judgment and
Catholic sympathies; he possessed, in his own words, ''prefer-
ences but no prejudices " — if we except that fundamental preju-
dice against the vulgar, the perverse, or the insincere in art. All
things pure and noble, and not a few forgotten or despised,
found shelter in Lionel Johnson's heart; and then that heart
ceased beating. Even now it is difficult to think dispassionate-
ly of the young poet, with his childlike face and his words of
such memorable wisdom or pathos. Still more difficult is it to
reach any satisfying analysis of that mingled defeat and victory
which made up his life's brief conflict. His aloofness, to the
very end, was majestic as well as melancholy. Strangely enough,
it is the vivid yet unconscious self-portraiture of his final poem
— the lines to Walter Pa.ter — that supply the truest comment
upon their author's life and work :
Gracious God rest him, he who toiled so well
Secrets of grace to tell
Graciously . . .
Half of a passionately pensive soul
He showed us, not the whole:
Who loved him best, they best, they only, knew
The deeps they might not view ;
That, which was private between God and him;
To others, justly dim.
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i9o6.] Lionel JOHNSON : Poet and Critic 467
At Broadstairs, Kent, in the March of 1867, Lionel John-
son was born into a family of Protestant faith and military pre-
dilection. Perhaps it was the old Gaelic and Cymric strain in
his blood which kept the boy so free from these environing
influences, and planted in his heart an early love of nature and
of the pasty a certain mystic kinship with the beautiful and
the unknown. And then it was his great good fortune to be
educated at the historic Winchester School, where he passed
six years of deep content and inspiration. The memory of
Arnold was still redolent there; further back, the memories of
Collins, of Otway, of Sir Thomas Browne; and dreams of "half
a thousand' years " of scholarship. There were natural beauties
too — ^Twyford Down, the nearby hills and woodlands, " walks
and streets of ancient days," or that ''fair fern- grown Chauntry
of the Lilies,'' white beneath the moonbeams.
Music is the thought of thee;
Fragrance all thy memory,
Johnson later wrote; and there is scarcely a detail of the old
place that he has not dwelt upon in loving veneration. At
Winchester, very largely, our poet's character was formed and
his future tastes determined ; there the bent toward scholarship,
toward solitude, and toward Catholicity became an inalienable
part of his life.
When Johnson passed to New College, Oxford, he had
already a reputation for "exceptional maturity of literary
achievement." * In fact, some of his published poems date as
far back as 1887, 1885, even 1883; but he was not inclined
to rest upon youthful laurels. His " Oxford Nights" furnishes
a charming commentary upon his early love of the classics —
"dear human books" to him, and nowise formidable. The
educational process seems to have been a kind of triumphal
march all along for Lionel Johnson ; and it is amusing to learn
that in spite of this, he very nearly missed his first degree be-
cause only one member of the entire examining board could
decipher his handwriting !
Shortly after attaining his majority, Johnson was received
into the Catholic Church. The step implied no sudden change
of faith, for he seems to have been Catholic almost from the
•Athenaeum, October, 1902;
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468 Lionel Johnson : Poet and Critic [July,
first, by some intuitive yearning. His instinct was all for legi-
timacy and orderly development, on the one side — on the other,
all for the mystical and unworldly, for the human fired with a
touch of the divine ; and it is this very inevitability that imparts
tfuch grace to the story of our poet's conversion. His was the re-
turn of a son into the arms of his mother ; and beyond a prayer
that his beloved England might so return to allegiance, John-
son appeared quite unconscious that the matter could be made
one of controversy. It is said, and it seems entirely credible,
that about this time he had thoughts of entering the priest-
hood. In his "Vigils" (written at Oxford in 1887), we recog-
nize a spiritual concentration like that of the young^ Crashaw,
lone watcher " beneath TertuUian's roof of angels " :
Song and silence ever be
All the grace life brings to me:
Song of Mary, Mighty Mother;
Song of whom she bore, my Brother :
Silence of an ecstacy
Where I find Him, and none other.
Lionel Johnson's vocation to what Faber has called ''the mys-
tical apostolate of the inward life " was, to the last, unwaver-
ing; but, with characteristic self criticism, he deemed himself
better suited to a literary than to a priestly career. Thenceforth
he served his art with almost cloistral consecration, finding in
this lo'kg and painful service a '' blessedness beyond the pride of
kings."
The first publication of Johnson's poems seems to have been
in 1892, when a selection of the earlier ones appeared in the
Book of the Rhymers' Club. The beautiful lines " By the Statue
of King Charles at Charing Cross" were included in the num-
ber, and attracted some attention from the poetically hopeful.
That same year he completed his searching and admirable
work on The Art of Thomas Hardy, The publication of this
was delayed until 1894, but its final appearance was the signal
for Lionel Johnson's immediate welcome among the Immortals.
The name of the youthful critic (he was then only twenty-
seven years old) was coupled with those of Matthew Arnold
and Walter Pater, and his words were thenceforth prized by
ths foremast literary journals of London.
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i9o6.] Lionel JOHNSON : Poet and Critic 469
The passing of another year added new laurels, for in 1895
his first complete volume of Poems was issued. The power
of verses like "The Dark Angel" was recognized on all sides;
but Johnson's intense subjectivity — his preoccupation with spir-
itual concerns — made the critics somewhat guarded in their
praise. Meanwhile, with serene indifference, our poet was pre-
paring a new volume, which appeared in 1897 under the title
If elands with Other Poems, It contained some of his mcst ex-
quisite work: religious lyrics that soared up straight as the
tapers upon an altar, songs of hapless Innisfail, and chastened
meditations upon life and love. And it proved, beyond all
doubt, that here was a poet of ethereal ideals, with no inten-
tion of conciliating the practical English public. With heart-
whole sincerity Johnson followed the gods of his affection —
and, for the most part, they were neglected divinities. Yet
his poet's insight had prophetic clearness: we are almost
amazed at the number of public movements which shared his
sympathy. There was, iirst of all, the Catholic reaction in
England — admittedly one of the great phenomena of nineteenth
century thought — and Lionel Johnson was its soulful adherent
in word and work. He was one of the iirst to give ardent
support to that Celtic Renaissance which has now proved itself
a reality. As an early member of the Irish Literary Society,
he mourned with Douglas Hyde over the decline of the Gaelic
tongue ; and with his friend, William Butler Yeats, he shared
hopes for the future of Irish drama. So, too, did Johnson
raise his protest against a certain decadent literaiy influence
from across the Channel, and against various " professors of
strange speech " and stranger graces, who " suffer under the
delusion that they are very French."
But throughout these years, when his critical activity
brightened the pages of the London Academy^ the Daily
Chronicle^ and other papers, Johnson's health was perceptibly
failing. His body, always frail, grew less and less able to sup-
port the continued mental strain. Even those long, wondrous
rambles through Wales and Cornwall, which brought our poet
so close to Nature's meanings, were powerless to win him phy-
sical health. Every normal stimulant seemed ineffective ; and
so it happened that the sad, ancient story was repeated — the
story of which our own Edgar Poe furnished so tragic an in-
stance. There is slight call to dwell upon the warfare of those
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470 LIONEL Johnson : Poet and Critic [July,
later years, or to remember the darkness which for a time
eclipsed the star. For a full twelvemonth before bis death,
Johnson appears to have published nothing; from his nearest
friends he became a recluse, and all letters and solicitations
were met by silence. But scarcely any one realized the full
pathos of his situation until, on September 22, 1902, the fol-
lowing note came to the editor of the Acadetny :
'' You last wrote to me, sometime, I think, in the last cen-
tury, and I hadn't the grace to answer. But I was in the
middle of a serious illness which lasted more than a year,
during the whole of which time I was not in the open for
even five minutes, and hopelessly crippled in hands and feet.
After that long spell of enforced idleness I feel greedy for
work "
Accompanying this were the lines before mentioned, to the
memory of his '' unforgettably most gracious friend,'' Walter
Pater. One week later — on the night of September 29— our
poet left his lodgings for a solitary walk. He did not return
to Clifford's Inn, nor did any human eye witness that last
tragic scene. Before morning a policeman walking on Fleet
Street found the slight body of a man lying beside the curb
—quite unconscious, the skull fractured. Lionel Johnson was
carried to St. Bartholomew's Hospital, where he slept for four
long days and nights. Then, early in the morning of Octo-
ber 4, 1902, he awakened in eternity.
Were it not for Johnson's poetry, it would be difficult to
connect this reticent, fragile struggler with life — always a pa-
thetic and lovable figure — with the sererely impersonal man of
letters known to London journalism. But his own hand has
bridged the abyss; and from this poetical woik we may trace
the author's spiritual pilgrimage with no great incompleteness.
It is not that the pages are frequently autobiographical; it is
simply that choice of both theme and treatment is essentially
characteristic. Some of the earliest of these poems show the
strong influence of classical literature: "Sertorius" is one in-
stance, and "Julian at Eleusis" — that plaintive elegy upon the
death of pagan worship. But " The Classics," with its brief
and wonderfully trenchant appreciation of the Greek and
Latin writers, is the most complete expression of a culture
which very largely moulded Johnson's own literary style.
Upon every page of his work lies this stamp ot scholarship:
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i9o6.] Lionel Johnson: Poet and Critic 471
we recognize it in the exquisite, unobtrusive chiselling of his
verse-effects, and still more fundamentally in bis graceful or-
dering of ideas, and his masterly coxttrot of passion and imagi-
nation. But considering his poetry as a whole, in context
rather than form, we may safely define the mainsprings of its
inspiration as Nature^ Celtic memories^ and Catholic faith, A
glorious trio it was, falling into sub- divisions of almost equal
majesty; exaltation of sky and sea and earth, musings upon
the immemorial tragedy of life and death, chivalrous loyalty
to Ireland, deep love and reverence for the past, for pagan
culture and mediaeval mysticism, and wistful visions of eter-
nity. Even in poems of personal or reminiscent origin, such as
** Winchester," or the series to "Malise," most of these ele-
ments are discoverable, blended into a harmony which is our
poet's very own — his characteristic message to the world.
Because of the universal potency of external beauty, it may
be that Johnson's widest appeal will be made through his na-
ture poems.^ "Sancta Silvarum/' written as early as 1886, ex-
presses in lines of powerful cadence the youth's passionate
sympathy with the nature world, his quick response to the
Music of the mystery, that embraces
All forest* depths, and footless, far-off places,
and his awed recognition of one mighty will that shapes the
course of star and blossom, of wind and sea. Almost always
it was the wilder and more desolate aspect that he loved to
contemplate — Nature upon rain -driven moors where "the wet
earth breathes ancient fair fragrance forth," rather than in
^' vineyard and orchard, flowers and mellow fruit."
Great good it is to see how beauty thrives
For desolate moorland and for moorland men;
To smell scents rarer than soft honey cells.
From bruised wild thyme, pine bark, or mouldering peat ;
To watch the crawling gray clouds drift, and meet
Midway the ragged cliffs. O mountain spells;
Calling us forth, by hill, and moor, and glen !
Such is the exulting burden of " Gwynedd."
The blending of abstract and concrete throughout these
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472 Lionel Johnson : Poet and Critic [July,
poems is peculiarly interesting; the ideal beauty is not always
wrapped in cloud or dazzling in the splendor of sunrise-^it is
both sought and found beneath some actual, earthly symbol.
Hence our poet was increasingly given to the painting of word
pictures, little vignettes of an almost Cowper-like nicety, which
crystallize some momentary aspect of Nature with the soulful
simplicity of Wordsworth himself. '' In England " abounds in
these sketches, as of
A deep wood, where the air
Hangs in a stilly trance;
or.
Wind on the open down,
Riding the wind, the moon.
A thousand intimate recollections of Johnson's own rambles
intensify the personal note, and very charmingly; he tells us
of the sea gulls wheeling off in "a snowstorm of white wings,*'
and of the shy rabbits who hopped away at his approach,
with the sunlight glowing " red through their startled ears.''
Our poet wrote once that, while he could never understand the
temptation to worship the sun, he found entirely comprehen-
sible that other temptation toward worship of the earth — " not
with a vague, pantheistic emotion, but with a personal love for
the sensible ground beneath his feet." It is impossible not to
feel this tenderness, this sense of omnipresent kinship, through-
out his Nature pictures; in his love of the "freshness of early
spray," and of sky and field and moor. The reality of it all
reaches final expression in those poignant lines of " Cadgwith":
Ah, how the City of our God is fair 1
If, without sea, and starless though it be.
For joy of the majestic beauty there.
Men shall not miss the stars, nor mourn the sea.
The general acceptation of Johnson as a poet of the Irish
Revival is both true and false. The heart has its own father-
land; and while as fundamentally English in many ways as
Newman himself, our poet did throw in his lot unhesitatingly
with the fortunes of the Celt. It was at first, no doubt, a
poetical and devotional attraction, the response of a keenly
imaginative nature to the half-revealed magic of Celtic lore —
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i9o6.] Lionel JOHNSON : Poet and Critic 473
that magic of fire and tears. And out of this grew his passion
for Ireland ; albeit the glamor of her romance and her mys-
tery, her thirst for freedom and her unnumbered woes, even-
tually won from Johnson the allegiance of a very son. That
fine and masterly poem which forms the title of his second
volume is probably the richest fruit of this dedication. From
the elemental pathos of ''Ireland's" opening stanzas, through
the bitter story of wrong and martyrdom, and the cold, terri-
ble arraignment of the land's oppressors, the music sweeps
with the majesty of death and yet of victory :
How long? Justice of Very God! How long?
The Isle of Sorrows from of old hath trod
The stony road of unremitting wrong.
The purple winepress of the wrath of God :
Is then the Isle of Destiny, indeed.
To grief predestinate ;
Ever foredoomed to agonize and bleed
Beneath the scourging of eternal fate?
Yet against hope shall we still hope, and still
Beseech the eternal Will:
Our lives to this one service dedicate.
And at last comes the plaintive tenderness of that call to
Mary:
Glory of Angels ! Pity, and turn thy face,
Praying thy Son, even as we pray thee now.
For thy dear sake to set thine Ireland free:
Pray thou thy little Child!
Ah ! who can help her, but in mercy He ?
Pray then, pray thou for Ireland, Mother mild.
There are numerous shorter poems in both volumes ' treat-
ing of the same subject: notably those powerful lines "To
Parnell," and the elegy commencing
God rest you, rest you, rest you, Ireland's dead !
But '' for a' that and a' that," Lionel Johnson was not a
Celtic poet. One critic has asserted that in him the Irish re-
vival lost '* its poet of firmest fibre and its most resonant voice—
the only voice in which there was the cordial of a great cour-
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474 LIONEL Johnson : Poet and Critic [July,
age." * But, after aU, it was a voice from without. Perhaps
the very best way to draw this distinction is to compare our
poet's treatment of a Celtic theme with, for instance, that of
Mr. Yeats. The latter's poem on the ''Death of Cuhoolin"
ends thus:
In three days' time, Cuhoolin with a moan
Stood up, and came to the long sands alone :
For four days warred he with the bitter tide ;
And the waves flowed above him, and he died.
This is by no means a superlative example of the Irish
poet's work, but it has caught something of the crude, epic
simplicity of a primitive saga. Now in *' Cybiraeth " Johnson
has embodied the story of Llewellyn of Llanarmon, and the
strange summons that came to him from the Ghostly Gate.
In lines of weird beauty he describes the *' dolour and the
dirge " which swept upon the land one cold midnight, and how
the ''bitterness of wounding fire" pierced the very heart of
its chieftain. Then,
While wailed the herald cry
Upright he sprang, and stood to die.
So, Lion of Llanarmon I
Lion soul and eagle face
Fought with death a splendid space;
Oh, proud be thou, Llanarmon !
Not man with man, but man with death
Wrestled; thine hoariest minstrel saith
No greater deed, Llanarmon!
The power of such poetry is undeniable ; but are we not
conscious of the long vista of time and art through which our
bard looks back upon his subject? The Celtic inspiration was
a precious and powerful factor in Lionel Johnson's poetry ; but
it was by no means an inevitable one.
On the other hand, any divorce between our poet and his
religious lyrics would be almost inconceivable. His early lines
to "Our Lady of the Snows'* are one of the most beautiful
expressions of the devotional ideal to be found in English
poetry ; and his " Visions " of hell, purgatory, and heaven arc
•U.S. Krans : William Butler Yeats and the Irish Literary Revival,
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I906.] LIONEL JOHNSON : POET AND CRITIC 475
notable alike for delicacy and power. But it was reserved for
the second volume to prove this scholarly young convert one
of the loveliest of our devotional poets. It is seldom possible
to wander far among the lily-beds of English sacred lyrics
without meeting traces of Crashaw, the ever fragrant, and in
Lionel Johnson the aiHnity is quite manifest. Indeed, many of
his Catholic poems are altogether worthy of a place beside the
master's. Such is that hymn of exquisite beauty, '' Our Lady
of the May " :
O Flower of flowers, our Lady of the May !
Thou gavest us the World's one Light of Light;
Under the stars, amid the snows. He lay;
While Angels, through the Galilean night.
Sang glory and sang peace ;
Nor doth their singing cease.
For thou their Queen and He their King sit crowned
Above the stars, above the bitter snows;
They chaunt to thee the Lily, Him the Rose,
With white Saints kneeling round.
Gone is cold night; thine now are spring and day;
O Flower of flowers, our Lady of the May!
And this is scarcely more beautiful than a dozen others which
follow or precede. ''Te Martyrum Candidatus" has been one
of the most frequently quoted ; and lines like :
These through the darkness of death, the dominion of night,
Swept, and they woke in white places at morning tide ;
They saw with their eyes, and sang for joy of the sight,
They saw with their eyes the Eyes of the Crucified,
illustrate how admirably its metre reproduces the triumphant
onward rush of those White Horsemen, the "fair chivalry of
Christ." It is merely a further instance of our poet's mastery
over technical form; this time in a department where — perhaps
more than in any other division of verse — purely artistic ex-
cellence is apt to be neglected. Yet every reader must be
aware that the religious sincerity of Johnson's poems did not
suffer by his formal precision. What could be more tender,
more straightforward, than " Sursum Corda," lines addressed to
that other Catholic poet, Francis Thompson :
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476 Lionel JOHNSON : Poet and Critic [July,
Lift up your hearts / We lift
Them up
To God, and to God's gift,
The Passion Cup.
Lift up your hearts I Ah, so
We will :
Through storm of fire or snow.
We lift them still. . . .
But as an expression of pure spiritual yearning,' I thick
Johnson has left us nothing more hauntingly beautiful than the
short poem, " De Prof undis " :
Would that with you I were imparadised.
White Angels around Christ!
That, by the borders of the eternal sea.
Singing, I, too, might be:
Where reigns the Victor Victim, and His Eyes
Control eternities !
Immortally your music flows in sweet
Stream round the Wounded Feet ;
And rises to the Wounded Hands; and then
Springs to the Home of Men,
The Wounded Heart; and there in flooding praise
Circles, and sings, and stays.
So far, we recognize the spiritual exaltation, the lyric love-
liness of Crashaw and the older Catholic hymnists. But listen :
My broken music wanders in the night.
Faints, and finds no delight;
White Angels ! take of it one piteous tone,
And mix it with your own I
Then, as He feels your chanting flow less clear,
He will but say : / hear
The sorrow of My child on earth.
There we listen to the voice of our own Lionel Johnson, the poet
of austere ideals and pathetic world-weariness, the poet of faith
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I906.] LIONEL JOHNSON : POET AND CRITIC 477
through an age incredulous. Bravely he faced the conflict, but
no longer joyously; the maladie du sieclc had touched him.
Numerous Latin poems scattered through both volumes should
be mentioned; also the songs having a Latin refrain, particu-
larly " Carols " and the last part of " Christmas."
In approaching his more personal poems, we shall have to
face the most serious charge ever brought against Johnson's
poetry — the charge that it lacks true emotional quality. We
are told that his lyrics spring from and express a thought,
rather than a feeling ; and to admit this absolutely is to imply
that Johnson should have confined himself to prose. But can
we admit it ? The strange, weird melody of ** Morfydd " goes
sighing through the mind:
A voice on the winds,
A voice by the waters.
Wanders and cries:
Oh ! what are the winds
And what are the waters t
Mine are your eyes /
We remsmber, too, the splendid climax of those later lines " To
Morfydd Dead":
Take from me the light,
God I of all thy suns;
Give me her, who on the winds
Wanders lone!
and they do not seem to speak of frigid formalism. Neither
do the odes to *' Winchester," or the wonderfully tender poems
on friendship to be found in both volumes. The truth of the
charge is probably this: all the world loves a lover (at least
theoretically !) and Lionel Johnson did not show the usual predi-
lection toward interpreting this master passion. His love poems
are few in number. But if any reader be tempted to doubt
our poet's capacity for the very white heat of emotion, we
would commend to his perusal "The Destroyer of a Soul," or
those passionately beautiful lines, " A Proselyte." We may
pierce deeper still, to the heart pleading of that early and tragic
poem "Darkness" — even to the vehement self- revelation of
"The Dark Angel," and its companion-piece, "To Passions":
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478 LIONEL JOHNSON : POET AND CRITIC JJuly,
That hate, and that, and that again
Easy and simple are to bear:
My hatred of myself is pain
Beyond my tolerable share.
Such lines are more convincing, to some of us, than the melo-
dramatic outpourings of Lord Byron's genius. ''The Dark
Angel " — perhaps the most famous of all Johnson's work — is
a poem of wonderful power, a flash-light upon that bitter and
eternal conflict which had its rise in Eden.
Dark Angel, with thine aching lust
To rid the world of penitence:
Malicious Angel, who still dost
My soul such subtile violence!
Because of thee, no thought, no thing
Abides for me undesecrate:
Dark Angel, ever on the wing.
Who never reachest me too late!
There is something wellnigh intolerable in the verisimilitude
of the poem, in the frightful arraignment of this '' venemous
spirit" who broods over the world of nature and art, torment-
ing the land of dreams, and blackening the face of spring and
youth and life itself. The poem would be sinister were it not
for the splendid courage of those flnal stanzas:
I flght thee in the Holy Name !
Yet, what thou dost is what God saith :
Tempter! should I escape thy flame.
Thou wilt have helped my soul from death :
Do what thou wilt, thou shalt not so.
Dark Angel ! triumph over me :
Lonely^ unto the Lone I go ;
Divine^ to the Divinity.
The man who wrote those lines felt^ indeed ; but upon bis
lips lay the seal of culture and of temperamental repression.
This was the veil of his heart's inner sanctuary — that " Pre-
cept of Silence " which one of his most characteristic poems
has immortalized :
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1906.] LIONEL JOHNSON : POET AND CRITIC 479
I know you: solitary griefs,
Desolate passions, aching hours!
I know you ! tremulous beliefs.
Agonized hopes, and ashen flowers!
Some players upon plaintive strings
Publish their wistfulness abroad:
I have not spoken of these things,
Save to one man, and unto God.
The " criticism of life " throughout this poetry is by no
means insignificant. Lionel Johnson was one of a little band
who, through all the turmoil of late nineteenth century thought
— through the storms of rationalism and materialism and real-
ism — kept their faces steadfastly toward the east. Truth
and beauty shone as twin stars before his quiet gaze; and
his supreme achievement was to create works of art which
"suffice the eye and save the soul beside." His message, all
along, was one of reconciliation. He contrived to be at once
the apostle of culture and of devotion, of art and of nature,
of modernity and of the ancient. His love for Catholicity and
for Ireland nowise lessened his joy in England; nor did his
exultation in the forest wilds dull his ears to the call of Lon-
don's thoroughfares. One marvels, seeing the gracious hat-
mony of his pages, where the imagined hostility could have
lain. Now, of course, one cause of this comprehensive view
was the aloofness of our poet's attitude. His sensitiveness
of temperament was very exquisite; his sympathy with hu-
man experience very keen; but he stood a little apart from
life. His was the attitude of philosopher and contempla-
tive; never that of the mere academician. Perhaps his own
interior struggle served to obviate a natural tendency toward
exclusiveness^ and to unite the poet with his great laboring and
suflFering brotherhood. It is never easy for a temperament
like Johnson's to overcome its intolerance for many aspects of
human nature; it is never easy to recognize that the spirit is
willing and the flesh weak, without despising the flesh. But
if there is one kind of development perceptible in our poet's
work, it is a growing tendency toward the human and con-
crete. It is a long, long cry from the "proud and lonely
scorn" of temptation that goes singing through his youthful
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48o Lionel JOHNSON : Poet and Critic [>uly,
*' Ideal," to the humbled yet resolute wrestling of his " Dark
Angel." For the rest, we shall have to admit that Lionel
Johnson's song was for the few rather than the many — that
the nun-like delicacy and austerity of his Muse made any
popular recognition quite improbable.
As critic, Johnson has met with somewhat more generous
appreciation. The Art of Thomas Hardy ^ upon which his repu-
tation mainly rests, is universally recognized as one of the
sanest and most scholarly pieces of work called forth by re-
cent fiction This first volume testifies very clearly to its
author's singular openness of mind : " I remember," he says,
^' but few of Mr. Hardy's general sentiments, about the mean-
ing of the unconscious universe, or of conscious mankind, with
which I do not disagree ... his tone oi thought neither
charms nor compels me to acquiesce; but it is because I am
thus averse from the attitude of a disciple, that I admire Mr.
Hardy's art so confidently." Here, indeed, is the true critical
temper — leading this artist, to whom spiritual laws were the
prime realities, to lay his tribute at the shrine of another
artist, and one whose philosophy impresses most readers as
distinctly materialistic. But in Hardy, Lionel Johnson recog-
nized the essential humanist, the legitimate descendant of a
noble line of English novelists, a master of constructive art,
and a truthful portrayer of Wessex life and thought.
" He dwells, in a dramatic meditation, upon the earth's an
tiquity, the thought of 'the world's gray fathers,' and in par-
ticular, upon certain tracts of land, with which he has an in-
timacy, . . . old names and old houses lingering in decay,
. . . pagan impulses, the spirit of material and natural re-
ligion, the wisdom and the simplicity, the blind and groping
thoughts, of a living peasantry still primitive. . . . He loves
to contemplate the entrance of new social ways and forms, into
a world of old social preference and tradition; to show how
there is waged, all the land over, a conflict between street and
field, factory and farm, or between the instincts of blood and
the capacities of brain ; to note how a little leaven of fresh
learning may work havoc among the weighty mass of ancient,
customary thought ... to build up, touch by touch, stroke
upon stroke, the tragedy of such collision, the comedy of such
contrast, the gentle humor or the heartless satire of it all,
watched and recorded by an observant genius."
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i9o6.] Lionel Johnson : Poet and Critic 481
Such passages — as sonorous as they are sympathetic — bring
us to the deeper understanding of Thomas Hardy's work. But
the book is even broader in scope, tracing the history of the
English novel from the time of Defoe, and characterizing with
rare insight its different developments.
" The modern novel," observes Johnson, '* differs from its
predecessors mainly in this: that it is concerned, not with the
storm and stress of great, clear passions and emotions, but with
the complication of them ; there is a sense of entanglement.
. . . Psychology, to use that ambitious term, supplies the
novelist with studies and materials ; not only the free and open
aspect of life itself."
It was characteristic of Lionel Johnson that his appeal
should have been ever to the past. " That inestimable debt of
reverence, of fidelity, of understanding " which modern scholar-
ship owes antiquity — less a debt, after all, than "a grace sought
and received " — was never far from his consciousness. Clas-
sicist he always was, from those days at old Winchester ; " pur-
ist and precisian " in his style, with slight interest in spelling
reform or other utilitarian devices. Inevitably, then, past great-
ness, the best that had been known and thought^ became for him,
as for Arnold, the touchstone by which to try all present
achievement. " About contemporary voices there is an ele-
ment of uncertainty not undelightful, but forbidding the per-
fection of faith." Johnson wrote in one of his sage little arti-
cles in the Academy : "We prophecy and wait." Yet, although
the personal equation inclined thus to the " serene classics,"
the critic's attitude toward a living genius was one of wistful
appreciation. His every sense was keen in the search for
beauty, and he welcomed it in whatever guise: Lucretius and
Fielding, Pope and Wordsworth, Renan and Hawthorne — all of
these shared his sympathies and comprehension. Critics of
Lionel Johnson's type are a gladness to the earth.
The discerning had great hopes of Johnson, with his Cel-
tic dreams, his scholarly methods, and his unwavering faith in
spiritual realities. And they were never fully realized. The
saddest phenomena of literary history are these fragmentary
geniuses — these voices which cry out in the wilderness so en-
chantingly, and then sink into silence. It is part of the world's
tragedy that
VOL LXXXIII. — 31
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482 LIONEL JOHNSON: POET AND CRITIC [July*
So many pitchers of rough clay
Should prosper and the porcelain break in two,
as Mr. Yeats has put it. But is there not a danger of carry-
ing this regret too far — of urging an artist's possibilities at the
expense of his actual achievement? The work Johnson has
left us is superlatively excellent; it needs neither apology <ior
explanation ; it simply needs to be read. That, indeed, is the
prime difficulty, for the world is very busy ; and Lionel John-
son spoke with such a gentle sweetness, such a modest seren-
ity ! In prose and verse alike, he was stranger to the jeal-
ousies and impatiences of mere ambition. Securus judicat orbis
terrarum^ he was fond of quoting — " sure and sound is the
whole world's judgment"; and so to time, that judge so de-
liberate and so infallible, he committed all. It is pleasant and
reassuring to remember Lowell's words concerning the two
kinds of literary genius. "The first and highest," he tells us,
'' may be said to speak out of the eternal to the present, and
must compel its age to understand /// the second understands
its age, and tells it what it wishes to be told." Quite mani-
festly, Lionel Johnson was not of this latter type; but we
believe that his place is with higher company.
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NARCISSUS.
BY JEANIE DRAKE.
•• Author of In Old St, Stephen's, The Metropolitans, etc., etc.
Chapter VI.
||OWN in the field near the olive grove the air
was warm and fragrant with the scent of clover
blooms. Poppies and corn-flowers tossed their
pretty heads in an adjacent wheat field, and pushed
them through the crevices in the low fence, as
if quite distracted to join the party in the clover-patch;
bees went humming backward and forward, busily carrying
stores of honey to their hives and buzzing sometimes peri-
lously near to Marjorie's face, where she leaned on a small
mountain of cushions. A long, long pause, broken by Philip's
voice from his comfortable lounging place:
" I shall be asleep in about three minutes," he asserted.
"This is the veritable Lotus Eaters* Land, 'in which it seemed
always afternoon.'"
" Yes," assented Will—
"'Propt on beds of amaranth and moly
How sweet, while warm airs lull us, blowing lowly,
With half-dropt eye-lids still
Beneath a heaven, dark and holy,
To watch—'
" — Marjorie, pretending to read, and really 'steeping her
brow in slumber's holy balm.' By the way, what is ' moly ' ?
Does any one know ? "
"I am sure /don't," Marjorie answered drowsily.
"Something soft,'' suggested Philip. "Moly sounds soft,
don't you think so?"
" Like a feather bed," murmured Jack.
Another long pause, during which there was much hopping
and twittering on the part of various small sparrows come down
on an excursion from the branches of neighboring trees. They
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484 Narcissus [July,
evidently regarded the party, from their motionless attitudes,
as a group of statuary quite harmless and designed for their
pleasure.
"Fearless little creatures, those," observed Will. "I al-
ways intended throwing sticks and stones at them when I was
a boy, but was ashamed to, they were so very confiding. The
conflict in my youthful soul was something tremendous at times."
" I had no scruples whatever on the subject," said Philip.
"How could you be so cruel?" said Marjorie. " And they*
such dear little things. See that one now, he has found a
worm and he will not eat it selfishly all alone. He carries it
to his mate on the tree there; and just look how graciously she
receives it. They would be quite a pattern to some married
couples."
" They fight each other sometimes, just the same," put in
Jack the scoffer ; " also, they kill song birds ; also, they eat
fruit which they have not planted and which we want; besides
which, I am told that worms have a very low opinion of them."
Silence number three, disturbed this time by Marjorie, who
raised herself on her elbow to look at Jack. " What is the
matter with you^ boy ? " she suddenly demanded, throwing a
small twig which struck him on the nose and made him start.
«' You have scarcely spoken a word all day ; and you are look-
ing so red and pompous and mysterious, as if you had some
awful secret to guard. Tell me this moment what it is."
"Speak, youth!" commanded his brother sternly. "Your
secret, or your life!"
" There is nothing the matter with me," declared Jack guiltily.
"There is," contradicted Marjorie promptly, "and I mean
to know it. Tell me. Jack " — coaxingly — " have / anything to
do with it?"
" Well, yes " ; — reluctantly — " you have something to do
with one of the things. It is a treat you are to have; but you
are not to ask me anything about it, for it would be mean to
tell, and you will know pretty soon, anyhow."
" Well, I won't ask you, then. But you said one of the
things ; what is the other ? "
" Good heavens, Marjorie, how you do badger a fellow !
Well, then " — sitting up, with an air of desperation and a very
red face — " I have been making a — a pome ! Now, crown me
with laurels," sinking back.
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i9o6.] Narcissus 485
" A pome," repeated Philip, '? what is that ? "
"A poem?" cried Marjorie; "oh, you delightful boy, you
shall be decked with laurels from head to foot. But where is
it? Let me see it."
" Find it," tersely.
Then ensued a deft and rapid diving of Marjorie's fingers
into various of his pockets, without success. " Oh, come now,
Jack" — sweetly — "where is it?"
"Bring it forth," said Will sadly, "if the hitherto stainless
name of Fleming must be disgraced, it is best to know the
depth of your iniquity."
Some further coaxing and bullying at last caused a crumpled
paper to be drawn from one of those mysterious pockets dis-
coverable only by the tailor and the wearer, and not always by
the latter.
"You see," explained Jack with much stammering, "I
stopped in at old Madame Moreau's yesterday, and there she
was busy chattering and telling Monsieur Patanne from Tou-
louse what a fine match she had in mind for her daughter ; and
he, not to be outdone, was saying how he was a poor man
himself, but he expected his nephew, whom he had brought
with him to Martres, to contract marriage with a rich cooper's
widow here. And when I was going out, there, by all the
gods and little fishes, were the nephew and the daughter spoon-
ing away under the trees ; and it made me chuckle to think how
angry the old people would have been to see them."
"What is 'spooning,* Jack?" asked Marjorie.
" If the verses are as exciting as the prelude," observed
Philip, shutting his eyes, " my agitation will be overpowering."
" Well," proceeded Jack ' recklessly, " the idea amused me.
So, this morning I made some rhymes out of it. We are used
to making jingles once a week at college, you know. And
now, nobody must interrupt until I finish the first verse."
" We promise," said the chorus.
" Ahem ! " said Jack, clearing his throat :
IN THE SALON.
An ancient dame sits talking to an antique beau.
And the window panes gleam redly as the sun sinks low.
And she flutters and she bridles, and she plays with her fan.
While he compliments and flatters, as becomes a gallant man.
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486 Narcissus [July,
Upon the wall the portraits grim look down at airs and graces,
While the pair speak on of other things with more shrugs and
grimaces,
And he tells of nephew Arthur, who'll call for him bye-and-
bye.
And fears, poor boy, he'll never make a fortune, though he
try;
But hints there is an heiress, neither young nor pretty, true,
Still, possessing that without which one would matrimony rue.
She, glancing sidewise in the glass, mentions her little Ruth,
Whose charming head is full of romance wild and dreams, for-
sooth !
But, she whispers, as to confidential friend she may.
Old Croesus has been with her wooing e'en that very day.
So the talk buzzes on in the room.
''And why should it not?" asked Will, of the elements
apparently.
'* ' Forsooth ' always sounds well in verse, don't you think
so. Will ? " said Philip. '' I don't suppose you thought of
scanning those lines. Jack. And you are quite right, my boy.
What does a loot or two more or less matter ? It is an origi-
nal, brilliant, and masterly style of handling a subject that
counts; and that you show in perfection."
''If I had known that 'to compliment and flatter ' 'became
a gallant man,' Marjorie," said Will, " I would have amazed
and delighted you long before this."
"Don't mind them. Jack," said Marjorie, "go on with the
next verse, I want to hear it."
Jack looked doubtful, but finally proceeded:
IN THE GARDEN.
Overhead the birds are singing and the south wind blows.
All around the garden border^ bloom the lily and the rose;
Daffodils and violets blue are clustering at her feet,
As along the shaded pathway loiters maiden fair and sweet.
While she stands in leafy covert, one white hand shades her
eyes,
And the other plays with fragrant branch of myrtle, idlewise,
There's a footfall and a rustle — and now Arthur's at her side.
And she's the very happiest maid in all the world so wide.
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i9o6.] Narcissus 487
" Ohy sweet, my love ! " she hears him say amid the sunset
glow,
And as his arm encircles her, scarce knows the sun is low.
Anear them hover butterflies, around them hum the bees.
And high above the branches green are waving in the breeze.
Now, while the flow'rets peep at them, he bends and whispers
low;
Being so close, their lips do meet, and so the rose* buds know.
And the birds sing on in the trees.
" Overhead the birds are singing,'" mused Philip. " Were
they ever known to sing underground ? "
" ' Lilies and roses — dafTodils and violets,' " murmured Will,
'' His acquaintance with the floral kingdom is remarkable."
"'Leafy covert' is good, though," said Philip. ''We must
admit that."
'' I'll wager she would have forgotten her Arthur in a mo-
ment if a bee had hummed as close to her as that fellow is
to Marjorie. He is going to alight, I fancy, on her chin."
This danger safely passed, " I think y6ur poem is very pret-
ty, indeed, Jack!" cries Marjorie indignantly, "and they are
very rude and ungrateful. It is nothing but envy. The next
one you shall read to me by myself."
And Jack's rapidly rising ire was appeased, and he stretched
himself comfortably on the grass.
" I beg Jack's pardon," said Philip more gravely. " His
verse is well enough. I only object to amateur verse-making
in general and on principle. I have been guilty of it myself
in moments of abject weakness, but when I returned to rea-
son I was my own unsparing critic. An ordinary writer will
treat of an ordinary subject in an ordinary manner, and it will
produce about the same effect on you as a street song shouted
by gamins until you are weary of the sound. One of the mas-
ters comes, and he takes up the same trite matter — and your
whole soul responds."
" As if Beethoven should come along," suggested Will, " and
take the hurdy-gurdy from some wandering player and amaze
the man with the lovely melodies he would produce."
" I know what you mean, Mr. Carhart," said Marjorie, in
a low voice. " It is like a minor key in music. That always
affects any one sensitive to it, even where the motif is other-
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488 NARCISSUS [July,
wise commonplace. One hears a comic song in a key that
thrills. I almost fancy that our hearts must beat in a minor,
for when I have listened to certain minor chords, I always feel
a deep desire to say to some one — I know not whom — who
seems appealing : .
"*Be comforted, oh, my dearest!'"
Will was usually self-restrained, but there was a tone in
the girl's soft voice as she said these last words that quite
overcame him. He moved a little closer to her and, under
pretence of taking some leaves from her skirt, said so low that
only she heard: "Oh, Marjorie, if only /could speak to you
in a minor key, so that some day you would say to me: 'Be
comforted, my dearest.'" And surely she could not say now,
as she often did, that blue eyes never looked passionate or
pathetic.
But one is selfish at twenty years; and she was not think-
ing of him just then ; she only turned away her head with a
somewhat pettish : '* Don't tease. Will ! " And the young man
kept quite still for many minutes after this, lying with his hat
over his eyes; so th&t the sparrows, more than ever convinced
that he was a statue, showered down sticks and straw lavishly
upon him as they built their nests.
"Marjorie," called Jack, as they strolled toward the cha-
teau, "do I not look Oriental with these rugs wound around
me? Like the Shah of Persia — only more so?"
" You look like the brother of the moon and the grand-
uncle of all the stars," she declared. "Tell me. Jack; tell me,
like a good boy, what is that ' treat ' you were talking about ? "
"Wait until to-night" — oracularly — *'and you will see and
hear."
True enough, soon after she had sunk into her first sweet
sleep that night, she became vaguely conscious of sounds that
were not all a dream, and presently she was standing at her
window peeping out and listening delightedly as guitars and
mandolins tinkled, and Etienne's voice sang in the garden :
Amis, la nuit est belle ^
La lune va briller,
A sa clarte\
En libertiy
Amis^ allons rever^ etc., etc.
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i9o6.] Narcissus 489
This was Etienne's device to show gratitude to *' la belle
demoiselle*^ for her good offices with Nicolette and himself;
and what could he find better than treating her to a little good
music such as he and his friends in Martres knew well how to
produce. Therefore he sang: **Amis, la tiuit est belle.**
'* Why, it is beautiful, like a scene in an opera/' said Mar-
jorie to herself; and so it was, with the mountains and river
and valley in the moonlight, and in the clear foreground the
serenaders' figures moving among the trees. Now there arose
a chorus, rich, mellow, and harmonious, but somewhat unintel-
ligible as to words:
Las fillos de Sen Gaondens non tCan d* argents ,
Las qui non n*an, qu*en bouliren ;
FatidoundainOy qu*en bouliren.
Aon pays bach, anem, an em /
Coille d* argent I
En segat blat, et dailla hen,
Faridoundaino^ n*en gagneren.
Which, as afterwards explained to Marjorie, was to the effect
that the girls of St. Gaudens were without money, and those
without money desired it. " Down to the valleys let us go.
Money to seek by reaping grain and raking hay. Tum-te-tum,
we shall gain some."
A little whispered consultation, and again Etienne stepped
forward, and thinking of Nicolette, no doubt, sang the sweet-
est of Southern love songs, in one of those minor keys that
Marjorie liked so well. •* Oh, lady of my heart, my love, my
life ! " was the refrain which the chorus took up, and repeated
in softened echo quite indescribable. The girl leaned from her
casement, and the scene looked at once unreal; there was
witchery in the warm night air; a light shone in the opposite
turret window, which was the guest room ; against the curtain
she saw a profile too classically correct for Will's. " I am half
sick of shadows ! " she quoted to herself suddenly ; and then
drew back into her recess, flushing deeply at such admission,
made even in solitude and to herself alone. It was a welcome
distraction when the singers burst into a merry little vintage
song, and she saw Jack join them in the garden to offer them
cigars or wine or something.
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490 Narcissus [July,
" Marjorie/* said her aunt, looking in at the door with a
smile, " have you no flowers for your admirers ? " She remem-
bered a great bunch of poppies which Will had given her that
afternoon, and which she had forgotten and left on Jeanneton's
kitchen table. Gathering her wrapper more closely around her,
she sped through the hall and down the staircase, and graped
her way back into the kitchen, where a few rays of moonlight,
coming through chinks in the shutters, served to make dark-
ness visible.
'' Jeanneton I Jeanneton I " she called ; but Jeanneton's snores
from an upper apartment were the only answer; for Jean-
neton was one of those on whom serenades are wasted, unless
they are preceded by a salvo of artillery.
The table was at last reached, the bouquet felt for and
found, and, her room regained, it was thrown from her win-
dow to the singers. Etienne picked it up, glanced upward to
the casement, placed the flowers near his heart, and bowed
with native grace. Then the serenaders began to sing " Bonm
nuit, Madame^*' from the " Grande Duchesse," and gradually
descending the slope, their voices died away little by little in
the distance.
Chapter VII.
"Don't you think. Will," asked Jack the next morning,
"that it was very kind and sweet in our small cousin to give
those young fellows that pretty bunch of flowers last night?"
"I do," said Will, wondering what was coming.
" So do they. They are to wait upon her in committee to
express their thanks, and the bouquet is to be kept in a glass
case."
"What do you mean?" cried Marjorie.
" Only, my child, that it is a unique and very neat compli-
ment to throw a party of serenaders a bunch of turnip-tops."
"Turnip-tops?"
" Turnip-tops."
" I never did ! "
"You certainly did."
" I did not ! " with vehemence.
"You did I" with equal politeness.
" Children, children I " called Mrs. Fleming reprovingly.
" Monsieur Jacques must be right," declared Jeanneton, who
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1 906. ] Narcissus 49 1
was bustling about the room ; ** I missed my bunch of turnip-
tops from the kitchen table, and boxed Pierre's ears because I
thought he had thrown them away."
" And where are my flowers, Jeanneton ? "
''Oh, the coquelicots are there. Mademoiselle, all wilted."
" After all, Marjorie, what does it matter ? It is a joke,"
said Will, coming to the rescue ; for though he was amused he
did not wish to have Marjorie vexed.
" Those fellows must have been amazed when they examined
their prize," observed Philip, who wished to prolong the scene
for the pleasure of watching Marjorie's little show of temper.
But that young woman presently broke into a laugh, as seeing
the absurdity of the thing.
'' Well," she said gaily, " I must explain to Etienne, I sup-
pose. But, Jack, how did you know?"
'* Oh " — blandly — " I thought I remarked something peculiar
about the foliage of the bouquet — so to speak — when Etienne
clutched it to his heart last night when he was skirmishing up
at your window; and I strolled down before breakfast to in-
vestigate. Sure enough, there were the 'tops' in a vase of
water, and Etienne's mother regarding them with respectful
mystification."
Here the laughter, restrained before on account of Marjorie,
became general, she joining in merrily.
" Come on, somebody," she said, getting her hat, " I am
going there now."
Each of the young men evidently cherished a conviction
that he was *' somebody," for they both joined her walking down
to the potteries.
'* Don't let us go into the house," she said as they drew
near. "Etienne will be at the furnaces, and I don't — I don't
want to see those abominable 'tops.'"
Etienne was at Jthe furnaces, and came from among his men
taking off his cap.
" Good morning, Etienne. What delightful music I have to
thank you for ! And what a voice you have ! " He colored a
deep red with pleased embarrassment. " And how careless and
rude you must have thought me, instead of giving you pretty
flowers, to throw you that horrid green stuff I "
There was not the ghost of a smile on Etienne's lips as he
answered very politely: *' Mats, Mademoiselle, I thought they
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492 NARCISSUS [July,
might be some strange American plants, exotic, perhaps, which
only looked like our vegetables/'
"Very good," murmured Philip.
"Oh, Etienne, what a whopper!" Marjorie would have
liked to say ; but reflecting that this would not do, she merely
observed: "Well, Etienne, I should think you would know
turnip tops when you sec them, even if you are not a gardener."
"Turnip-tops, Mademoiselle I " in well-affected amazement
While Will and Philip laughed, Marjorie explained the mistake,
and promised to send him a real and handsome bouquet, this
time, for Nicolette, and he thanked her in advance.
Coming up the street, Jack met them whistling, his hands
in his pockets. " Whither away now ? " he called.
"To see Mfere V^ronique," said Marjorie, looking at Will
appealingly.
He groaned. "And are we expected to go, too?" he in-
quired.'
" As you like," with dignity.
" Needs must when an angel leads," resignedly. " But,
Philip, you should know what an enchanting visit you are go-
ing to make. That the lady mentioned should be aged and
rather cross is a mere trifle, and rather her misfortune than
her fault. That she should be deafer than any post is an ac-
cident, though trying. But that she should keep a horrible
parrot which bites you when you incautiously go near it; that
she should ask you all manner of indiscreet questions in a per-
fect whoop — these things are unpleasant, and would seem avoid-
able."
"She is very old and sickly and poor, and last year lost
her husband, who was very kind to her; which are all, I
think, good reasons for visiting her," said Marjorie.
"But could not one send her assistance?" asked Philip,
with an evident intention to desert the party.
"That would not be the same thing," answered Marjorie.
" It is the sympathy which counts for even more, when one is
in trouble."
" I am afraid, Marjorie," objected Will, " that she is not in
the least grateful for either sympathy or assistance."
"She may not show it," maintained Marjorie stoutly, "bat
I know she feels grateful."
" I will not abandon you, Marjorie," declared Jack valor-
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I906.] NARCISSUS 493
ously, taking her by the arm, ''even if the old lady did say
that I was a good-for-nothing and would demoralize every
boy in Martres, if \ only stayed long enough."
Mere Veronique's was one of the grimiest of all the grimy
houses in the town, and to enter its dark and narrow door-
way both Will and Philip had to lower their heads considera-
bly. On going in, a very remarkably ugly woman peered at
them a moment over her spectacles from under her cap-flaps;
then called in a shout which, in spite of previous warning,
made Philip start:
"Well, don't stand there staring! Who are you? What
do you want ? "
Jack was evidently preparing an answering bellow, but Mar-
jorie prevented him, stepping quickly to the old woman's side,
and saying in her clear tones:
" It is I, Mere V^ronique, come to see how you arc to-
day ; and I have brought these messieurs with me, and they
would like to see your tiles, and — and Pierrot."
" It is a wonder you could spare time," grumbled Mere
V^ronique loudly, "from your fetes and junketing to come and
see a poor old woman like me. Baptiste tells me you hire his
horses almost every day to go somewhere. Ah ! " — with a
prodigious sigh — "when my poor Georges was young we used
to keep Jours de fete^ too. But it was for the sake of being
together. That is what counts in youth, eh I " glancing sharp-
ly at Will and Philip, to their great dismay. " It was my
tiles you wished to see. Mademoiselle," she continued, moving
slowly to a cupboard close to the curious, carved, and smoked
chimney place, and producing some tiles very inferior to Eti-
enne's. "They are relics of my Georges. Hilas ! he will
make no more. But they are superb, eh ? "
"Beautiful!" they said; and, "Bully!" muttered Jack.
" What did you say ? " turning to him with absolute ferocity.
"That — that — " he stammered, getting very red in his
alarm, "that I thought some dou //i v^ould be good for Pierrot,"
pointing to the vicious looking parrot, which was swinging
in its perch and screaming at them: " Prenez garde! Prenez
garde ! "
"We were talking of the tiles — not of Pierrot," she said
suspiciously, "but all boys are rude now. They had some
manners in my time, grace a Dieu^^ putting away the tiles.
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494 NARCISSUS [July,
'' Pierrot is there to speak for himself/' waving her hand at
the bird, and still unappeased.
" He is looking very well to-day, M^re V^ronique," said
Marjorie, willing to conciliate, but not venturing too near the
parrot.
"He is," admitted the old woman approachirg him. **Hc
was the love, the darling of my Georges ; and now he is all
that is left to me, desolate. Eh, Pierrot, art thou not my only
friend, my angel, my little dove?"
To which the little dove replied by a dig with his beak
which must have taken a piece out of her finger.
*' Aht la vilaine bete / // m'a tue ! " she screamed, and turned
round to surprise Jack executing a wild dance of delight, and
to glare at him with such unspeakable wrath as induced that
youth to depart as unobtrusively as possible through an open
door. When she was somewhat calmed, Marjorie remarked, as
a safe subject, that the weather was lovely.
" Oh, no doubt you others enjoy it, with nothing to do
but go out all the day, and never the one by himself, I would
swear. But which is the favored one of you " — lowering her
voice a semi-tone — "that is the question? Oh, you need not
look confused — those gaillards, they cannot hear," which they
certainly could, unless they had been much deafer than the
pro/erbial door-nail, or even than herself. " Well," she sud-
denly shouted at Philip, " what are you doing here, and how
long are you going to stay ? "
But that young man had no notion of making a spectacle
of himself roaring at the dreadful old person ; so he only looked
appealingly at Will, who answered for him in her ear that the
gentleman did not purpose a long stay in Martres.
" It is quite of no importance," she declared in a confi-
dential whoop. "He may be a little better- looking than you,
but I do not like his face. He is a conceited fellow, who is
only fond of himself."
"This grows embarrassing," muttered Will; and Marjorie
thought so too, for she managed their exit a moment later.
" Well, I hope you enjoyed it, Marjorie I " said Will when
they were once more in the outer air.
"No"; she admitted with reluctance, "I think I must go
alone after this. But you. Jack " — reproachfully, as that youth
came up — " you behaved very badly."
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I906.J NARCISSUS 495
" I know it/' he said with manly candor, '' I confess it, so
there is no more to be said."
While Philip paced up and down the garden path alone
with his cigar that night, some internal conflict seemed absorbing
him. Whether a man, himself quite cool and unmoved, given
up, in fact, to other aims and dreams, was quite justified in
trying to enchain the interest of a young and sensitive girl;
whether he should spend every available moment in her society ;
whether he should gently press a soft hand quickly withdrawn,
or throw a passionate warmth into dark, expressive eyes when
other eyes were shyly raised to his ; whether, in short, it would
not be wiser and more honorable to leave Martres at once.
Then he seemed to see Marjorie's sweet face looking at him,
and to hear her fresh young voice. '' Bah," he ended, finish-
ing his thoughts aloud : '' ' Gather we roses while we may.' "
"Hard on the roses, isn't it?" said Will carelessly, com-
ing up behind him ; " give me a light, will you ? "
" I can't tell you," replied the other with equal carelessness,
"unless I knew the exact mission of the roses."
'' I suppose you will be over head and ears in work this
coming winter, Philip," said Will presently as they walked.
" My dear fellow, I shall scarcely have time to breathe. I
am snatching a respite now, perforce. Mr. Adams, the senior
partner in our law firm, writes me that several important cases
come on in October. If we carry them through, as I hope,
they will add immensely to our gain and credit. But that is
not all, as I tell you in confidence, that I hope to accomplish
this year. Deloraine, whom you know, has been kind enough
to take a fancy to me, for some mysterious reason " — shrug-
ging his shoulders. '* He promises to use his influence, which
is very great in Maryland, to get me a vacant judgeship. Now
to be judge before I am thirty," his eye kindling as it could
only kindle when he talked of himself, " will be gratifying, I
confess."
"I wish you success," said Will heartily; and after a few
moments he asked, with seeming irrelevance : '' Hugh Delo-
raine has a daughter, has he not ? "
"Yes"; said Philip indifferently. **A rather nice-looking
girl, but very delicate. Something of a belle, I understand,
for she inherits her dead mother's fortune already, and his
very large one in prospect."
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496 NARCISSUS [July,
" I don't believe, Philip/* turning to look at him, *' that
you could go wild about any woman."
*' My dear boy," smiling carelessly, '' I should hope not.
I am not of that romantic temperament. I want a successful
career — position, renown, power — and if a wife can be of as-
sistance to me in those matters, well and good; if not, she
would be a mere encumbrance. An excess of affection when
I should be at home to think and plan my work would be a
fearful bore."
"I really can't believe you, Philip," staring hard at him.
'' It is unnatural, impossible, at your age, to be so — so calcu-
lating — so cold-blooded."
" Impossible or not" — lightly — "it is a fact."
"Then," with some vehemence, "all I have to say is that
your turn will come some day, and it will be worse than any
one else's, you will see."
" Well " — laughingly — **you have done your duty in my
case. Lochiel is warned. But I fancy I have quite another
'weird to dree.' Suppose we go in now, cigars being finished
and the hour late. You look, Will," he continued, as they
passed into the house, " as if you thought your ' weird ' might
be a particularly awful and tragic one."
Will smiled abstractedly, for he was wishing just then that
he could *dree' not only his own 'weird,' but some one else's
— some one much more delicate and easily hurt than he.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
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RENOUNCEMENTS.
BY THOMAS B. REILLY.
[he work progresses, Signorino. It charms, re-
veals, compels to introspection.
But, I am not skilled in the calling. What
should an old parish priest know of values,
treatment, quality ? No, no ; his suggestion
would be worth nothing. It would be the voice of only senti-
ment or memory.
. He wishes it? Well, if the maestro will permit — a lower
light just on the crest — there. Softer — softer — so. It is more
effective, is it not, her brow ? more spiritual ?
I am no critic. I may only say how this pleases, or this
does not. To teU the cause, to analyze, is that, after all,
worth while? The Signorino doubts? So — o? He can spare
a moment from his task ? It is only a step or two. Now, if
he stoops and looks in against the cool gray wall. Is it not
beautiful ? What cloistered grace ; what charm ; what humil-
ity I Yes ; the first of the season. But, the Signorino should
see our roses at high flood.
This? I've been watching. this one many days. Yesterday
it peeped blushing from its loosened sheaths. Last night, when
I heard the falling of the cool, sweet rain upon the roof, I
knew it would bloom this very morning. And the lustrous
rain was thick on its crimsoned burst.
Certainly, Eccellenza— one moment. I will hold aside the
branches — but its fragrance and color and light I Is it not
wiser, is it not enough, to enjoy in thankful silence?
Let us return by this path through the garden. Ah, the
Signorino is a poet; therefore, he should have been born an
Italian. He has simplicity, he would make life agreeable, and
he is an artist. The Signorino smiles. But it is true.
Will the Signorino be candid? What was it, then, that
exacted thought as the portrait grew beneath his touch ? Was
it a mere desire to emulate the lines of that faded sketch ; or
VOL. LXXXIII. — 32
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498 RENOUNCEMENTS [July,
was it the woman? Exactly! and he said to himself: ''This
one could know suffering and survive; could be constant and
firm to the end." And he believed. Else, why this lowered
light, that altered line; so that — where the original shows but
the flash of a dream, this is luminous with peace through pain
and remembrance. Thus he has interpreted a life, an experi-
ence, a soul.
Maestro will overlook an old man's curiosity ; but there, in
that far corner, has he not inscribed some title ? Pardon, but
it reads? Renouncement I Then the Signorino is a poet.
And perhaps he remembers the verse — it was with me a mo-
ment ago; but now — I can think of only one line:
I must stand short of thee the whole day long.
Yes, yes; he has it. Beautiful. There, the closing lines —
I have long thought inimitable. No; I read very little these
days, nothing beyond my office. But I have my people's faces ;
they are all the poetry I need, all the romance, all the tragedy.
The Signorino holds me to my promise ? Let us go down
by the terrace, since I would point out the spot where the
romance began. If, at the close, he wishes, I will show how
it is ending — and where.
This way, if the Signorino does not mind. Now, let him
look down and across the valley, just at the edge of that dark
purple shadow, Twenty-four, five — one can almost tell the
number ot houses in a glimpse. Yes; very small, the small-
est of our hamlets. It will be chill over there, at this hour.
That ? That would be the wind among the pines. Yes ; it is
sad, and it is all we have in the long nights, except the si-
lence of the stars overhead.
But the cross, the Signorino can see the cross ? Now, a
little up and to the left among the trees is the presbytery.
The Signorino will go there with me to-morrow? Then I can
show him the garden, the bench of Father Philip, the arbor
walk leading to the fountain. I can point out the very rock
where the woman — whose soul is caught in the portrait — stood
transfixed, gazing down the valley, when there was nothing to
see but the settling dust of vanished wheels. I can take him
to the pale image of our Lady, at whose feet the woman
swooned away.
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i9o6.] Renouncements 499
I ma very happy over there for eight or nine years. But
when rhtlnffr Philip died — the Signorino understands that he
was very old-^I vm made parish priest here. Well, no; it is
not large; but thertt^,w43 a time when my flock was scarce
contained within the walls of the church. Now — a handful,
merely a handful. Gone? A few have died; but the most
are somewhere in that magical country of yours — that prom-
ised land. Only a remnant and the tourist are left to me.
Yes; the tourist he comes and increases! The Signorino saw
for himself how it was — five this morning. By the week's erd
a score, perhaps, will have trailed the world- echo through this
silence.
In those days we had few visitors. At long intervals one,
working his way up country, would stumble on our hamlet,
drink his glass of wine, rest awhile, and then away to one of
the larger towns. Yes ; on this side, but lower down and just
beyond the bend.
The Signorino can understand how, for a young man, new
in orders and with the apostolic fire hot within him, the same
round of faces, the apparent limitation, the narrowness, were
a bit disappointing. I was very eager for the multitude; but
I was also very young. So they wisely sent me to be a help
to Father Philip there on a mountain side. Did I rebel ? No ;
never that. Eccellenza is not of our faith, but he can under-
stand that without obedience there is no virtue, no strength,
no power. One has not truly lived that has not tasted the
joy of full surrender; the sweetness of resignation, the after-
math of renouncement.
Well, our life over there was uneventful. Our household
breathed simplicity and sanctity. To llltve seen Father Philip
and heard the wonderful music of his '* Figlio.** Then there
was Rosalia, with her grace, her spiritual impressiveness, and
the glory of her voice. She was very beautiful. Ob, yes ;
God has dealt kindly with our women. But what would you ?
the spiritual life is there, the goodness, the simplicity, the virtue !
7*he Signorino marvels that God should have hidden away
in that mountain nest such bloom, such grace, such woman-
hood ? Mystery ! But there is no mystery — except sin.
She had no thought of her beauty. God made her as she
was ; and he had regard for her soul. Suitors ? Many, many !
And as Father Philip grew weaker his solicitude increased.
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5O0 Renouncements [July,
He would see her married and settled in life. But whenever
that affair was broached to Rosalia, her response was always
the same: "I should love him well, should I not?"
And to a sharp " Certainly ! " was always returned : " Then,
not yet, Uncle."
"Not yet? "would be asked solicitously; "and why not?"
" He has not come \ but when he does — "
" And when he does ? "
Then, keeping silence, she would look down the valley. I
could see something shining in her ^y^s — an acceptance, a re-
jection, an uncertainty. Was it a sort of clear seeing of the
soul, Eccellenza — one of those mysterious suspicions of Hfe, a
premonition ?
The Signorino, I hear, is housed at the Vittoria. A mod-
em luxury, the Vittoria. Forty years ago we could not have
offered such comforts to the traveler. Father Philip's parish
still clings to the old terms, the simple, intimate welcome. To-
day, at the luxurious Vittoria, one is removed from us by a
parade of conventions. In my time, a traveler would have
lived our life and dreamed our dreams.
It was so when he came, when David came.
Years ago, such a day as this, but in the morning, I stood
in the shade of the mulberries and watched David breasting
the stiff ascent that led to our hamlet. And I could hear him
singing, singing for sheer excess of youth and health and hope,
Eccellenza understands that his coming was something in
the nature of a novelty ; but when he asked for lodgings-
well, that was a sensation. If the Signorino will count the
houses north from the presbytery — two, three, four — it is the
fifth. Giovanni, the schoolmaster, lives there now. In those
days it was the home of Bettina, the widow Briganti. A dear
old soul, Bettina, of fifty- five years, and she took to David
from the first. She had children of her own. Three dead;
a married daughter who lived far down the valley; one son
in Genoa; and another a wanderer like David himself. Was
it so very strange that she loved David as a son?.
It is easy to see how such a nature as David's, spontaneous
and adaptable, could lay great hold upon us. He amused,
aroused, and took us by storm. It was a pleasure to hear his
voice at daybreak among the olives. And yet — in all that he
said or sang, even in the lightest passage, there was a some-
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I906.J RENOUNCEMENTS SOI
thing not fully voiced, a strain wandering within a strain, an
elusive accompaniment.
.Enjoying life after his own design? Well, until — but you
shall hear. He was something of an artist, as is plain from
that unfinished sketch. But his taste in music was exquisite
and sure. And he knew his Horace.
Later on David would spend his afternoons in our garden ;
and he would spend two or three evenings every week with
Father Philip. David had turned up a large surface of life in
his day. His points of view were constantly shift irg. He
drew us out in spite of ourselves. It was an experience not
soon forgotten to have seen and listened as he gathered and
arranged the contributions of our talk ; a chip here, a chip
there — and, lo J the gem flashing clear and perfect. But it was
his own country that stirred him most and set free his deeper
emotions. The Signorino should have seen Rosalia then. She
would lean forward, silent yet disturbed. It was not long
till her eyes confessed a clear interest. They were expressive,
indeed, in the passage of an argument — now praising openly,
now condemning in sorrow; here urging, there repressing 7
one moment quick with admiration, and the next with disa-
greement. She was all fire, enthusiasm, spirit.
It is clear, is it not, Eccellenza, that where tides set one
way we should look for a flood ? I could not say just how
or when or where it came to pass. But one day, when Fa-
ther Philip had been called down the valley, and we three sat
by the fountain, I felt that a change had come. David had
engaged Rosalia's thought. He had won her soul and was
playing upon it with marvelous skill. One by one be showed
me its hidden beauties. He swept its heights and depths.
And I, who had thought to understand, was startled at its
glory and its power. It was a bit of charlantry — that unex*
pected strain ; I felt my own heart leap at the revelation^
And then I saw their eyes meet and part. His were proud
and satisfied; but hers —
Ah, mc I Eccellenza, what a wonderful experience is that
first moment. Rosalia was a woman from that instant. From
that day, that hour, there were abrupt silences and altered
rhythms of speech. And her eyes, her laughter ! But the
Signorino should have heard the exquisite ascension of her
soul in song. The flood had come. I knew what that meant
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S02 RENOUNCEMENTS [July,
— the ecstasy, the fears, the clamors, and the silences. That
was the dream. But the reality !
For many days I could find no peace. David was not of
our faith, and Holy Mother Church has an eye beyond this
temporal passage. Difficult? Well, and what in life is not
difficult; is there any course without its renouncements?
Never by word or sign, never by any slightest signal, did
David give hint that he saw, or knew, or guessed. Natures
like his could not be insensible to such responding grace, such
spiritual beauty. The signs disturbed me. For what might be
a passing hour for him, was the beginning of eternity for her.
One day he would call his farewell; and the Signorino divines
what it would contain for her. We are a simple folk, there-
fore love with us is an enduring spirit. It is either heaven or
the abyss.
One evening, on my return fronl a two days* absence, Father
Philip called me to his room. His eyes were sparkling; a
strange smile came and went on his sweet old face, as he
signed me to a chair, with a brisk : '' I have news for you,
Matteo. God has been good to us here in the wilderness. He
has heard our prayer. He has chosen us from the whole world
to be the instruments of his will."
There was a slight tremor in his voice when he added very
softly: "David receives baptism to-morrow!"
The Signorino can understand how it was that I sat upright
in my chair — startled, incredulous, dumb. I heard the faintest
snuffle and, looking, saw the back of Father Philip's hand brush
the corner of one eye. In the fullness of that moment I under-
stood many things; and not least how that a brave soul, ven-
turing between* the passages of a life, had surprised a spark in
the shadowis, and fanned it into fire. Think of it ; I have found
myself solicitous for that single rose, lest the night- frost or an
unkind wind strike at its heart with death.
What, then, had been Father Philip's fear, his toil, and his
vigil ! Believe me, Signorino, there is no greater joy in the
whole world than was contained in that single tear of Father
Philip. It was his reward? And why not! He had renounced
much to gain it. There was a great contentment in his eyes
when he turned to me with : " You like David ? "
" Very much indeed," I answered.
I could see that he was pleased. His eyes declared it, and
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I906.] RBlfaUNCEMENTS S03
his voice, also, when he said with a touch oi seriousness : " I
am under orders- to warn you from the garden to-morrow/'
"The-garekfr?''
"Then you have not heard, and they have kept the secret?"
" The secret ; they ? "
" So, Matteo does not understand ? Look in that far corner !
Those are the lanterns for the evening. We shall dine well to-
morrow. They have prepared a fesia for David — a surprise.
Not a word, not a hint, and no trespass.''
The Signorino should have seen that garden : the rich glow
of lanterns in the darkness, their colored fires spilling down,
down through the crisp waters of the fountain. He should
have seen our feast-table, and the faces beside it! Father
Philip was a boy at holiday ; Bettina was all smiles and talk ;
and Rosalia was all expressive of rapture and longing — the sur-
render 1 When I looked at Father Philip, his eyes were radiant.
And there was David's response through the violin — a
mysterious restraint, an aspiring plea. The whole theme was
a spiritual reaching out.
Parting with me for the night. Father Philip said: "It is
very clear and very beautiful, is it not, Matteo ? "
I gave him my full thought: "She loves him.''
" But David, what of David I " he asked. His voice quivered
with eagerness, and I could not bear the solicitude of his eyes
as I answered :
"What may I say, without knowledge of his past? Per-
haps in his own land there is something — a some one — "
"No, no"; he interrupted sharply, "there is nothing, no
one."
" In that case," I answered, " it is well. But since he has
seen much of life and the world, he will be less quickly moved
and will exact more. A week, a month — who knows — and
then — " He caught me up :
" Then I Ah, Matteo ! I have prayed for it ; I have dreamed
of it. I am getting on in years. I would see the little one
happy. And I have come to love David ; to look to him, to
hope that—"
His voice faltered and was silent. He pressed my hand
softly, and, bidding a good night, left me alone in the garden.
A whole week passed, and yet David did not come to our
house. We called at David's lodgings, but Bettina could give us
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504 Renouncements [July,
little assurance. She could not understand. Was David well?
Was ever a young man well who rose before daylight, tasted
but a bit, and then set off alone towards the hills, returning at
nightfall to bury himself in his room ? Letters ? No ; he had
received no letters ; but he wrote, wrote — it must be half the
night through. He had never been the same since the night
of his own blessed festa^ whose recollection was still a burning
fire in Bettina's soul.
Speak to him — ^indeed ! What was one to learn from a
man who, when asked to try wine from the Castello di Broiio,
would sit staring past one at something, as if there were noth-
ing in the whole world but himself and that ! Now, what was
that? Was it homesickness? Or might it not be (we should
forgive her, she was a foolish old creature, but she had not
reached her age without a knowledge of the signs), she wondered
if it might not be — love ?
I glanced at Father Philip. He drew back in an attitude of
derision. But I knew that his soft — *^ Mache f '* was from a
heart that was one with her thought. The next day I heard
from Bettina that David had told her : ** It is nothing. I
must fight it out alone, then, as others do. The renouncement
was mine. The rest is in God's hands."
And Rosalia ? The Signorino has seen in some abandoned
garden one flower of rare light and promise pining away for
lack of care; its heart thirsting for waters tha^ never fall; a
wan, soliciting shape that should have been the glory of a
hundred blooms? That was Rosalia. And though the truth
was known to each of us, no one broke the silence. We were
waiting, and waiting is a cruel trial.
The storms here, abruptly, swiftly, with but brief warning,
pitch themselves upon the hills and valleys; and over the flood
of sunshine suddenly darts a spirit af change, a profound, op-
pressing silence. Just so did thait other crisis come and break
and pass. But its lightning — sometimes in the forest stands a
tree of life and death, this side scored and blasted, the other
still flourishing its green tops among its fellows. And how
often is there a similar fate in human life?
It was Saturday evening. The last confession had been
heard I went into the garden for a breath of sweet air, and
watched the coming moon slipping up the dark shoulders of
the hill, when I heard my name called from the end of the
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I9o6.] . RENOUNCEMENTS 505
garden, There in the gray light I found Father Philip and
David. And there I learned from David's lips that he stood
penniless before the world; that he had voluntarily disinherited
himself by his conversion. Tell me, Eccellenza, what is it that
moves men's hearts to work such terms against their offspring ?
He was a hard man was David's father, stubborn and firm.
How could it be otherwise than that David himself should
show strength where his convictions were at stake? David
had written the truth to his people, and there was little hope
of parental forgiveness — The Signorino suffers from his eyes ?
He should have a great care. Yes; his work is a strain, but
— moderation 1 — David was to leave us on the morrow. It was
very sudden. It n>eant — it meant much to one of us. And
that one had yet to hear.
On our way back to the house Father Philip leaned heavi-
ly on my arm. He said nothing till we had come to the door
of his room. He bade me step in for a moment. It seemed
an interminable space till he said: "He has not told us all."
"David?" said L
He shook his head and was silent. I could think of noth-
ing to say. Then he turned to me with: "He loves her."
"Then he has spoken?"
" Not of that ; but of his return."
I looked at him in amazement
"A year and he will be with us again. A year, Matteol
I may not last that long. Perhaps this, too, must be re-
nounced. But you will see to it, my child, yon will give me
your word, that Rosalia shall know that I loved David like a
son ; that I desired and prayed for this union ? And David —
you will tell him how it was that I could not confess that the
little one's life was twining itself about his own — that she
loved him ? I could not tell him that. But, when he has come
again, and you see the truth shining in their eyes, let them
know that it is exceeding pleasant for me. You promise,
Matteo?"
And I promised.
The day slipped around. The hour of parting came. Some-
how it seemed as if David were going down the valley lor a
week or two. I did not realize the truth. Father Philip was
very calm ; and his voice was steady ; not even his eyes un-
covered the old grief, the doubt, the longing.
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5o6 RENOUNCEMENTS [July,
And Rosalia laughed and sang and scattered joy like a
spendthrift. In her eyes was an animation that stirred me
strangely. I could see that David, also, wondered. I watched
closely when their eyes met, but there was nothing like a be-
trothal in the glance. And I said to myself: '* He admires,
is pleased, satisfied '' ; but — ah, me, Tve been wondering (or
years if he really Cared.
Almost in the shadow of our Lady's statue David took bis
farewell — a thousand pardons, Eccellenza, but I can never think
of that, hour without seeing him standing there with Rosalia,
hand in hand, his face strangely calm, his eyes filled with a
faint, fluttering light, bespeaking both resolution and fear and
the blurred utterance of a feeling held in check.
Well, they had come for David with a oarriage from the
post- town in the valley. Only once did he tarn back to wave
us a parting signal. Father Philip hung by the gate for a
few mon^ents, then turned and went into the house.
Thinking of Rosalia, I sought the garden. She was not there.
I walked across to the mulberries, and away down the valley
could distinguish a moving speck that left a trailing puff of
dust behind it. But the carriage was soon shut from sight by
the hill. And then I heard a low moan. There on a ledge of
rocks below me I saw Rosalia kneeling, both hands pressed to
her head. I stole away softly and sought my room. Some
hours later, when the early stars had assembled in the dark
tides overhead, something urged me to quit the room. I passed
Father Philip's door; it was closed. Through the split panel
a streak of light shone, and I knew that he was not to be dis*
turbed. I went into the garden, cool and quiet, and sat in the
shadow of the roses. I thought of many things ; of David, his
country, his future, his return; I thought of Father Philip and
his great desire. I thought of love — its power and passion, the
height and depth of its course toward an infinity of woe or
happiness. And then, just as my thought was opening upon
her, there in the pathway, drifting down upon me, white, noise-
less — with eyes upturned to the stars, and hands upon her
breast — came Rosalia. The apparition startled me. I could
but sit and watch.
She paused for a moment at the fountain ; then went straight
to where the image of our Lady rose pale and slender in the
cool fragrance and the moonlight. She dropped to her knees.
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I906.] RENOUNCEMENTS 507
I knew her lips were seeking the spot where David had last
stood — his hand on hers, her eyes upon him. I could feel the
chill of the night creeping through my body; but still she knelt.
Suddenly the heart gave way under its burden. I tried not to
hear ; but the words touched me like fire. I saw her arms stretch
themselves out in mute supplication to the Blessed Mother, and
heard the cry : '' I loved him ! David ! David ! "
She lay motionless among the crushed flowers when I reached
her.
Many years have gone since that night. Few changes have
occurred in the valley. The olive leaves whiten under the
west wind; the pines stir in the darkness with their ancient
tones; the roses, the birds, the starlight, the springtime — these
come and go ; human hearts move on the great dream- path
with much the same dawns and dusks. But David — David has
never returned.
Pardon, Eccellenza? Collins, that was the name, David
Collins.
Eccellenza is going ? Then I will move on a bit with him.
Only as far as that house at the brow of the hill. No; why
it is only a step. And, besides, I would show the Signorino
how she sits on the bench, just outside the door, her blind
eyes — blind these ten years — open against the light of the set-
ting sun. He will mark how it is toward the West they are
turned. Somewhere in the track of that wonder* veil of gold
is David. I think that if death were to touch her there at
twilight, it would please her greatly, since her soul would have
a radiant pathway back to youth — to him. David would be an
old man now, almost as old as myself. What! The Signorino
has heard of him ! Dead ! David — dead ! killed at Petersburg 1
And they found this on him ? Did the Signorino say next his
heart — her miniature ?
But, how is it — this picture — and you here, in the very
valley in sight of the woman ? It seems incredible ; it — Your
uncle ! You are David's nephew ? The eyes ; quick, let me
see. Now, blessed be God ! But, come, we shall be in time
to see her before the light fades and they have led her into
the house. It is only a step now — ^just around that bend. We
shall tell her — listen, my child, listen ! You hear voices? And
that cry — that cry ! Faster ! We are too late, too late !
Yes ; the night is here, but the dawn ; oh, the blessed dawn !
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JAPANESE SKETCHES.
BY A. LLOYD. M.A.
JAPAN is at the present moment an interesting
country for everybody. It has arisen from in-
significance to a dignified place among the pow-
ers in a little more than the average years of a
generation of the sons of men ; and we are all
asking- with the deepest interest whether the advance is going
to be maintained or not, whether the rise of Japan is to be a
blessing or a curse, and whether the new civilization — with its
outspoken materialism which has come into bloom in the Far
East — is a step forwards or a step to the rear. Catholics, more
than all others, ought to take an interest in the Land of the
Rising Sun. For them Japan has a past as well as a present,
and more than a present, a future. Nigh four hundred years
ago, just about the year that witnessed the revolt of England
from the Holy See, the first Christians from Europe landed on
the shores of Japan. For a hundred years, with varying al-
ternations of success and failure, the faith of Christ was
preached and thousands of converts gathered in through the
labors of St. Francis Xavier and his holy band of devoted
missionaries. It is no derogation from the Faith to say that
the treasure of the Gospel was at times contained in "earthen
vessels,". that mistakes were made both in conduct and tactics,
that opportunities were lost and advantages misused. When
the storm of persecution and hostility burst upon the infant
Church of Japan, the fidelity of the martyrs, and the steadfast
constancy of the confessors, showed that the seed sown bad
been the good seed of the Word, and that it had been sown
by no unworthy hands. No country can point to nobler mar-
tyrs than those who sealed their faith with their blood in the
seventeenth century in Japan, and I doubt whether the annals
of any country can record more striking instances of constancy
than that afforded by the Catholic fishermen and peasants of
South Japan who, deprived of all means of grace, without
priests, books, ceremonies, sacraments, always in peril of iro-
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i9o6.] Japanese Sketches 509
prisonment and death, persevered for over two centuries in the
practice of the Faith, and were at last discovered, in 1854,
after two hundred years of subterranean existence, quietly keep-
ing their forty days of Lenten sorrow.
The Catholic heritage of Japan has been a magnificent one.
Its present is noble, if not exactly magnificent ; for the Catho-
lics of Japan, still a somewhat despised folk, are putting up
a brave battle against sin in the midst of discouragement and
poverty, and it is only a man whose soul is dead who can dare
to smile at the mean and humble surroundings of many a
Catholic missionary. Our Lord was content to be a poor man,
and they who can follow him in his poverty are worthy of envy.
And as for the future ? With such a past and such a pres-
ent, the Catholic Church deserves a future in Japan. It is one
of my objects in these papers to show that she is likely to
have it, because she alone has a message to deliver which
appeals to the felt needs of the Japanese people.
Japan is distinctly a religious country, though the forms
in which its religious sentiments are expressed are somewhat
different from our own. The Japanese has many religions, and
the faith ot the military Bushi of the ruling class is very dif-
ferent from that of the merchant, just as again that of the
merchant differs from that of the farmer or peasant. But all
the religions of Japan overrun their ecclesiastical boundaries
and get fused with one another, so that though we talk of
Shinto, Buddhist, Confucianist, the average individual Japanese
would find it hard to tell you which he is. He is sometimes
one thing and sometimes another, according to circumstancesv
In the highest classes I have found a very deep religious
feeling. It was my privilege to be present at a memorial ser-
vice conducted by Admiral Togo last November, in honor of
the naval officers and men who died before Port Arthur and
in the Japan Sea, and naught but a deeply religious feeling
could possibly have inspired that ceremony.
I once met on the lonely top of Mount Tsukuba, the soli-
tary two- peaked mountain that rises out of the great plain to
the northeast of Tokyo, a widow and her son, whom I acci-
dentally disturbed at their devotions. The mother had taken
her boy to a lonely shrine in fulfilment of a vow. It was a
Buddhist shrine before which they were praying — and the statue
was that of a mother holding in her arms a babe !
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Sio Japanese Sketches [July,
In the lower middle and lower classes we get a faith not
so high as that which animated the gray- haired warriors of the
navy or the lonely widow with her son. If Togo's ritual
seemed to point to the Communion of Saints, and the Widow's
prayer to the Catholic Doctrine of the Incarnation, the cult
which I am now going to describe will, I think, show also that
the Catholic Faith has a proper answer to give to many aspi-
rations of the Japanese heart.
The Japanese has a proverb which says todai moto kurashi^
''just under the candlestick is the darkest place in the room,"
and if you could see a Japanese room with a tall wooden can-
dlestick, holding a dimly burning candle enclosed by a shade
of semi transparent paper, you would see how true to life the
proverb is. It is true also in another way. Tokyo is the can-
dlestick of Japan — the light-giving centre of Japanese illumina-
tion. A few miles out of Tokyo you come upon dark spots
which seem to be absolutely untouched by Western civiliza-
tion and light. They are at the foot of the candlestick, and
the bright rays of Western light have passed them over on
their way to ettHgihteji other places.
Such a place, is Haneda. It is eight miles from Tokyo, at
the nK>uth of the river which you cross at Kawasaki by train
on your way from Yokohama to the capital. In old days you
went by train to Kawasaki, and then on foot to the mouth of
the Kawasaki River ; now an electric car takes you in an hour
from Tokyo as far as Anamori. When you alight from the
car at Anamori you go over a bridge under the stone torii or
gateway, and so up the street towards the temple, or shrine.
The torii is a meaningless gate which is found at the en-
trance to every Shinto temple, and very often in Buddhist tem-
ples as well; for Buddhism and Shinto were in the past "^^xy
neighborly creeds, and borrowed a great deal from each other.
Not unfrequently one temple served for both cults, so that it
is very difficult to say sometimes to which religion the temple
belongs. Some people say that the word torii comes from
tori^ "a fowl," and that these gateways were used for tying
the sacrificial fowls to, a theory which I can well understand
if the Japan fowls in olden days were at all like the fowls
which are now found in the province of Tosa, creatures with
tail feathers sixteen feet long. A man must walk behind them,
to carry their train, whenever they go for an airing I
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i9o6.] Japanese Sketches S"
At any rate the torii is of no earthly use now, save as an
ornament ; but it is a common thing to present a torii to the
temple as a thank offering for a prayer that has been heard,
and to judge by the avenue of little wooden torii leading to
this temple, it would seem that the god of Haneda must be a
powerful god ; for the torii stand there by the thousands, some
made of costly white stone, the offerings of wealthy worship-
pers, and others of the simple wood that the poorest can af-
ford to give.
The number of these votive torii would lead you to infer
that the worshippers that visit this shrine are very numerous,
and so they are. The Electric Railway Company would not
have run a line down to this out of the- way hamlet on a lone-
ly mud- flat if the pilgrims to the shrines had not been suffi-
ciently numerous to justify their doing so. For the accommo-
dation of the numerous worshippers there are many tea- houses.
When a Japanese tea-house or inn enters upon the pilgrim
business, it has its trade mark and name printed in white on
pieces of dark blue cotton, which it sends round to all the
other houses in the same line throughout the country. These
strips of cloth are hung out in front . of the inn, but not for
mere ornament. The pilgrim who is making an extended tour
finds in them a convenient Hotel Directory, and when he has
by their means '' spotted " the right place for his next night's
sojourn, he goes to the landlord and gets from him a let-
ter of commendation to take with him. In this way the pil-
grim innkeepers are in continual touch with one another.
Very often, too, the parting guest receives as a present a lit-
tle white cotton tenugui^ or napkin, with the name of the hotel
printed in blue upon its surface. The tenugui is in constant
use during the pilgrimage, serving as towel, handkerchief,
duster, and headgear; and when the pilgrim b#8 done with
it, it is sometimes hung out on a pole, where it serves to ad-
vertise the merits of the hotel, by showing to all the world
how many guests from distant localities have deigned to ]6dge
there.
We will suppose, then, that fatigued with our journey, we
have reached the hostelry — its name, the Komeya or Rice-
hotel. We are not in a hurry to go on, so we sit down and
wait, have a cigarette, and a cup of tea with a biscuit. Hav-
ing done this, and when we are rested, we go through the
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512 Japanese Sketches [July,
little village street towards the temple, which is now quite
near. Perhaps we have .brought our children- with us, or per-
haps we have left them behind us, with a promise to bring
them home some present, or perhaps there is a neighbor's
child who must be propitiated with a gift. Our eye is caught
hy a, very unpretentious little place of business^ and we turn
aside to make a trifling purchase. If we have brought the
children they will perhaps be satisfied with some oranges and
a paper bag of peanuts ; though I doubt it. Certainly the
children at home will need to be pacified with one of the
straw images which form the staple curio of the place The
mud-flats of the delta of the Rokugo River produce one thing
only, and that is. grain, and where there is corn and rice there
is straw. Straw- plaiting is the staple industry of the district,
and a good industry, too, when one considers how large a
market there is for the Japanese straw hat which travels to
many lands. In their leisure moments the Haneda people
make little figures of straw — lions, dogs, men — which they paint
with gaudy colors and suspend from thin bamboo rods. If
you have a parent's heart you will not pass that shop with-
out laying out a few sen on a straw dog, unless haply yoo
should prefer a dried fish, or one of the card- board dice which
are also offered for sale. You will have to carry this about
with you for the rest of the day, and every one will know
that you have been to Haneda.
Sitting by the roadside you may find a poor miserable
.leper who will excite your compassion. But if you do so at
Haneda it will be a mere accident. A Japanese often makes
the following distinction between the two great religions of his
country. Anything joyful is Shinto, anything mournful is
Buddhist. I am not speaking here of the great military rul-
ing class who' despise Buddhism altogether, but of the great
bulk of the people who worship they know not what in their
ignorance. A leper is a mournful subject, and the Inari shrine
at Haneda is of Shinto origin. A leper, therefore, would be
out of place at a temple where men pray for happiiiess and
prosperity ; but still, misery knows no rules, and the leper is
a poor miserable wretch turned out from his family to die.
"Why should he not beg by the roadside, here as elsewhere?
It is the glory of Catholicism to have been the first in
Japan to care for the leper. There is a Buddhist temple at
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i9o6.] Japanese Sketches 513
KumamotOy built, I believe, in memory of Kate Miyamasa,
where lepers congregate, but at this temple no effort is made
to alleviate the sufferings of these wretches. The first Leper
Asylum in Japan was the Catholic asylum at Gotemba, the
second was the Catholic asylum near Kumamoto. The ex-
ample set by Catholics has been followed by Protestants. The
Presbyterians have asylums at Gotemba, and at Meguro, near
Tokyo ; and Miss Riddell's (Anglican) Leper Hospital, at Ku-
mamoto, has done much to call the attention of Japan to its
numerous lepers. What a pity it is that Frenchmen are such
poor beggars ! The world in Japan and out of it hears but
little of the heroic work of the Gotemba and Kumamoto Fa-
thers, who in singleness of heart have done so much and are
doing it for the alleviation of suffering. Perhaps what I have
written may meet the eye of some wealthy Catholic who may
be touched by the sufferings of the lepers. If it does not —
well, there is One who sees in secret, and who will reward openly.
Having thrown our penny to the leper, we pass on to the
shrine, a typical heathen building, where the eye is confused
by the multitude of mysterious and apparently meaningless
symbols. There are many stone lanterns, the gifts of pious
worshippers whose prayers have been answered. There are
brass gongs hanging up before the inmost shrine to call the
attention of the deity within, who may be "asleep, or on a
journey," like Baal in the Book of Kings. Characteristic of
the temple are two stone images of foxes, sitting up and " beg-
ging," with frills around their necks. This is a shrine of
Inari, the Rice- Goddess, the friend or the foe, according to
circumstances, of the men with whom she comes in contact, the
goddess who knows the future and can give good counsel to
the perplexed.
The foxes are the attendants of Inari, and it is through
them that the future can be known. For the fox has the
power to assume at will the form of a man and to mix in
human society. He, therefore, learns a great deal, and if
you can only get on the right side of him he can give you
very much useful information. Hitherto we have only been
visiting the shrine for our pleasure. But suppose we have come
on business — to consult the Fox- God — what then? Well, we
should wend our way back to the tea*house, and let the land-
lady know that we wished to consult the kannushi or head
VOL. Lxxxiii.— 33
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514 Japanese Sketches [July,
priest of the temple. And the landlady, being a woman, would
ask us whether we wished to inquire about a marriage or about
our business speculations; for those are the two things as to
which men all over the world are most interested to know the
future. We should have to satisfy her curiosity somehow or
other, and then she would go to the priest and make arrange-
ments for us to spend the night alone in the shrine.
When the devotee is thus alone in the sanctuary he listens
to the voices of those who come to the shrine during the night
to worship. Possibly these are the unhappy ones among men
who come to pray, in their hour of sorrow and shame, when
none save the Unseen can see them. But that is not quite
the popular belief about them. To the superstitious these
mysterious worshippers are foxes in human form, who have
come to serve in the temple of their mistress Inari, the
goddess of rice, and the words that they utter on such occa-
sions are not the sighings of a contrite heart, but vaticinations
of the future, to which the devotee must listen with rapt at-
tention, as containing something that it is of importance for
him to know. On the morrow he will go to the kanttushi, tell
him what he has heard, and receive the interpretation thereof.
This interpretation is called by the Japanese tsujiura : the same
name is given to pieces of white paper on which sentences
have been written in invisible ink. You buy a sheet for a
very small coin, expose it for a few minutes to the heat of the
hibachi fire, and there is your fortune in black and white. But
that is not a genuine tsujiura : the genuine article is connected
with the mystic voices heard in the Fox Temple.
A friend of mine once told me of an experience which be'
had. It was not at Haneda, but at another Inari temple near
Osaka ; but the tsujiura ceremony is the same everywhere. He
was a rice broker, and had had so many unlucky speculations
on the Rice Exchange that he thought of giving up the busi-
ness entirely. . But before doing so, he thought he would con-
sult the oracle. So he made an arrangement with the kannushi^
and in due* time was locked up in the dark, uncanny, idol
temple. Had it been in the summer he would probably have
had many nocturnal visitors, but it was winter and he had to
wait a long time; for even foxes will not readily leave their
snug little lairs when the thermometer is down below zero.
However, at last some one came, and the sound of the wooden
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I906.] JAPANESE SKETCHES S^S
geta on the stones showed that it was a party of two. My
friend listened with breathless attention. The foxes in human
form approached the shrine, sounded the gong, clapped their
hands, breathed a silent prayer with bowed head, and then at
last one of them broke the silence.
"How far is it to Takaeda?" said he.
'•Not very far."
"Then let's go there and spend the night."
And with that they walked oflF, and for the rest of the
night there was silence.
The next morning he went to the kannushi and told him
what he had heard.
"Ah I " said the reverend gentleman, who received him in full
canonicals, *'the one asked how far it was to Takaeda, did he?"
"Yes."
"And the reply was that it was not far?"
"Yes."
" Hm ! — And did you notice the direction in which they
went ? "
" Yes ; they turned to the left."
"That's good," said the priest. "The left is the fortunate
direction' — it is a good omen. And they asked the distance to
Takaeda. Taka-eda means 'high branch'; it shows that your
fortunes are going to rise. And they said it was not far — which
shows that your fortune is going to rise soon. It is quite clear
that you had better go back to Osaka, and go on with your
speculations."
My friend was overjoyed, and hastened back to his haunts
on the Osaka Rice Exchange, where he plunged manfully into
speculation as the Fox- God had told him. But Takaeda proved
a broken branch, and let him down badly. He lost and lost,
and at last was forced to give up the business of a rice broker.
And these people, you will say, are the countrymen of
Oyama and Togo, of Ito, Okuma, and the other makers of New
Japan — the men renovated and inspired by the Bushido that
men vaunt as the best thing that the world has yet seen !
We might have found some of the same contrasts in the
days of Christ and his Apostles, had we visited Imperial Rome.
On the one hand, a newly established empire, built up on the
foundation of an Imperial House, which claimed divine descent,
by the labors of men of great culture, refinement, and of the
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Sl6 JAPANESE SKETCHES [July,
loftiest spirit, of Horace and Maecenas, of Caesar, Augustus,
Germanicus; on the other, in the slums across the Tiber the
crassest of superstition and the most degraded of religions.
Substitute Japanese names for the names of the great ones at
Rome, and you have, save for the one fact that the Japanese
is more aesthetic than the Roman, an exact replica of Imperial
Rome in the Japan of to day.
It was the Catholic Faith, in its pristine fervor and purity,
it is true, that saved Imperial Rome, when philosophy failed
it, when the Roman Bushido failed it, when the luxury of Im-
perialism sapped the strength of the primitive Roman simplic*
ity. It is the Catholic Faith, restored to its pristine fervor by
the necessities of the twentieth century, that will be the pre-
server of Japan, when, in the inevitable course of events, the
old order changes, entirely giving place to new, when the the-
ory of a divine monarchy is found to be untenable, when mod-
ern materialism, so congenial to the spirit of the middle classes,
has swept down the lofty but badly- grounded idealism of the
samurai^ and when the ancient religions oi the land cease to
have any message for the Japanese people.
A prominent missionary of the English Church, the Rev.
L. B. Cholmondeley, of Tokyo, in a recent Annual Report of
the Guild of St. Paul, well describes the attitude of Chris-
tianity in Japan as one of waiting. There has been a great
deal of evangelistic seed-sowing of all sorts — and the wide
toleration of the Japanese government has given a free course
to every form of Christian preaching. All Japan knows about
Christ — and the labors of Protestant preachers on the fields of
battle^ among soldiers and sailors, may be said to have brought
the news of Christ to every village in the land. And yet, al-
most simultaneously with this great wave of Christian knowl-
edge, there has come a pause which every Christian body has
felt — ^Japan is waiting for the next development, waiting for
the leader or leaders, whether Japanese or foreign it matters
not, so long as they have the signs oi Apostleship, who shall
be able in God's name to gather into the net of the One Holy
Catholic and Apostolic Church the multitudes oi Japan that
have been persuaded, or half persuaded, or that are looking
for help and guidance under the new conditions of the fresh
century which has made the past impossible.
That leader can come from Rome, and from nowhere else,
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I906.] JAPANESE SKETCHES 51/
from Rome which has been shorn of all political importance.
If the Catholic Church can now rise to the opportunities which
God is placing before her, she can have triumphs in Japan for
Christ such as she has not had for many a long year. Amongst
her most potent allies in winning Japan for Christ, she will
find some of the best minds among the Buddhists themselves.
I will illustrate what I say by some quotations from a Japa-
nese magazine, the Katei Shnho^ or Home Weekly. It is a
paper managed entirely by Japanese; it is not a Christian but
a Buddhist organ, and is intended to reach the great mass
of middle class' families which form the bulk and the backbone
of the nation.
The activity of Buddhism deserves a passing mention be-
fore I go on with my subject. The Amida-worshipping Bud-
dhists are quite active in the propagation of their faith. You
will find Buddhist missionaries in China, Korea, Siam, India,
engaged in a mission of reform, and striving to arouse their
drowsy Oriental neighbors to the same zeal in the common
Buddhism which animates them. You will find them in Hawaii
and Manila, in the cities of the Pacific slope of America, nay,
as far East as Chicago, striving to keep their own countrymen
faithful to the creed of Sakya-Muni.* They also understand
how to face hardships in the bleak, inhospitable regions of
Saghalien and the Far North. And, quiet though their meth-
ods are, when compared with the pushing restlessness of Euro-
pean and American, they have no intention of allowing them-
selves to be driven out of their home fields without at least a
struggle in self- defence. And yet the contents of this Bud-
dhist magazine, as I put them before my readers, ought to
show that there is a distinct readiness to accept and welcome
all that fund of good teaching which a healthy and manly
Catholicism has to offer.
Both the numbers which lie before me as I write are for
the current year. And in each of them there is an article on
the "Year of the Fiery Steed." A full description of what is
meant by the " year of the fiery steed ** is beyond my power.
Suffice it to say that in the Japanese astrological calendar there
are twelve signs of the zodiac, each sign bearing the name of
some animal. In old clocks these twelve signs were applied
to the hours of the day, and old people used to talk of some-
thing happening at the hour of the rat, and something else at
the hour of the ox. This custom has now gone : we reckon
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5i8 Japanese Sketches [July,
time from one o'clock till twelve, and the. day ^ill soon come
when the hours will run from one to twenty- (our; but in rec-
koning years the old astrological calculations still hold good,
the years run in cycles, according to the signs of the zodiac,
and the year of the horse comes once in twelve years.
But in addition to the twelve zodiacal animals in the Japa-
nese calendar, there are also five elements which also run in
cycles through the years, and which are applied in turn to
their animal designations. Thus the year of the cock may be
combined with any one of the elements of wood, fire, earth,
metal, and water, making the wooden cock, the fiery cock, or
the earthen cock, as the case may be. The same holds good
with the years of the horse. There is a year of the horse
every twelve years, and a year of the fiery horse once in every
sixty. And the thirty-ninth year of Meiji (1906) is a year of
the fiery steed. I hope my readers have been able to follow
my explanation. It is like finding out from tables at the be-
ginning of the missal or prayer book when Stptuagesima Sun-
day will fall some twenty- five years hence. A similar train of
reasoning will tell you what animal will preside over the des-
tinies of any given year, and what its particular nature is go-
ing to be^ It has been said that, the horse being a spirited
animal, the year of the horse is nearly always a year of com-
motion and distress, and when it is not only the year of the
horse, but of the fiery horse, then the calamities become great
and serious — fires, floods, famines, and commotions abound
throughout its course. This year the fiery steed has already
begun to show his turbulent nature ; there have been several
fires in Tokyo and elsewhere, there is a (amine raging in the
north, and we have had premonitory earthquakes. And so the
women folk are full of anxious fears, and Dr. Mayeda, a welU
known Buddhist priest, writes to tell thtm that the year of the
fiery steed means a year of great heat, that we shall have a
broiling summer and an excellent rice harvest. The warning
does not seem quite unnecessary ; in the columns of the Japan
Times there has during the last few days been a long article,
translated from the Japanese, by our great seismologist. Pro-
fessor Omori, demonstrating that catastrophical earthquakes do
not recur according to zodiacal cycles, and that there is no
special reason for anticipating a big earthquake in this year
any more than in others. Even with this warning, a panic of a
coming earthquake the other day sufficed to break up a concert
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I906.] JAPANESE SKETCHES 5 19
which was being given in honor of Prince Arthur of Con-
naught, and to send every one home in terror to await a catas-
trophe which never came.
It is a natural transition from talking of superstitions about
the '* year of the fiery steed *' to discoursing about the follies
of astrology and soothsaying. In common with all the great
heathen nations of antiquity, Egypt, Greece, Rome, Chaldaea —
in common with all the great heathen nations of to-day, India,
Siam, China — in common, I had almost said, with «ome at
least among the Christian nations where people ought to know
better — Japan has a great belief, in her inmost soul, in the
utilities of soothsaying. The necessities of my life, combined
with the innate politeness of my nature, force me to be a strap-
hanger in the Tokyo street cars, and my natural curiosity im-
pels me while strap-hanging, to study the advertisements which
adorn those vehicles. In most cases I find that out of ten ad-
vertisements, four are those of fortune tellers, who puff them-
selves as the friends of suflFering humanity. They offer their
services, not only in the selection of auspicious days for mar-
riage ceremonies or removals, not only for the recovery of lost
or stolen articles — all of which services they may claim to have
rendered to mankind (at least by profession) during these many
centuries — but in more modern and up to date ways, as sure
and infallible guides in the intricate operations of the Rice
Exchange and the Stock Market, and confidently assure wealth
and prosperity to those who are wise enough to become their
patrons. One advertisement in particular claims to do business
according to the " Takashima '' methods. Takashima is the
name of a very wealthy and prosperous gentleman, much given
to occult practices. He has done well for himself, and he is
said to do well by his friends. It is rumored that there have
been times when even Cabinet Ministers and men high in the
Councils of the State have come to him for counsel and di-
rection. I have myself knowri of a man, a shrewd business
man, (one of Japan's best), who pulled down a costly residence,
and rebuilt it in another part of the city, with a different as-
pect, at the cost of thousands of yen, and of great personal
discomfort to himself and family, simply because a soothsayer
had told his mother that if he did not do so some disaster
would befall the family. It is a healthy sign for the future to
find a Buddhist priest of prominence, like Dr. Maycda, writing
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520 Japanese Sketches [Julyt
to warn his readers that there is a much surer way of pros-
perity than committing one's fortunes to a soothsayer. It is
''to lay your plans well in the morning, and make up your ac-
counts accurately at night." Where these two principles are
observed there is no need of the soothsayer.
The Japanese are, indeed, a strange mixture of conflicting
habits of mind and temper — ^just like ourselves. There are the
Bushidoists, who have no god but the State, embodied in the
person of the Emperor; there are the Intellectuals, who claim
to have no god at all, and despise Christian and Buddhist
alike. But when you peep into their houses you see the strong
belief in the reality of the unseen world clearly marked in the
power of the soothsayer. And sometimes you find a compromise
— a peculiarly Japanese one — known as the cult of the Shichi^
fuku'jin^ or "Seven Gods of Happiness" — a collection of mis-
cellaneous deities, some of Indian and some of Chinese origin,
who are supposed to have a direct influence on the happiness
of man, and especially of Japanese man. Of the seven deities
some are more popular than others,* but there are three whose
traces confront one at every turn : EbisUy the God of Trade \
Daikoku, the God of Wealth; and Benzaiten^ or Benten, the
Japanese Venus. Whatever other deities may claim the wor-
ship oi the ruling classes, there is no doubt that these three
popular representatives of the '* Gods of Happiness " are, like
Inari, the real deities of middle and lower class Japan. It is
the worship of the Almighty Dollar in a poeticized form.
Buddhism in the past has not been unmixed with soothsaying
and astrology, neither is it now. It has also, in its constant
policy of agreeing with human tendencies rather than running
counter to them, readily adopted the Seven Gods of Happiness
amongst the objects of its worship. It is an encouraging sign»
therefore, to find a Buddhist priest directing his readers to bet-
ter things than the worship of Benten^ Ebisu^ and Daikoku. The
magazines before me contain several articles on Domestic Life
— one of them with a title which looks strangely unfamiliar
when written in Japanese Katta letters, *' Home, Sweet Home";
and the burden of all these articles is the need of elevating the
Japanese home by purging it of its materialistc elements. Where
the family is given to the cult of the gods of material happi-
ness, where it suffers itself to be guided by soothsayers rather
•The seven deities are Ebisu, Daikoku. Bishamon, Benzaiten, Hotei, Jurojin, Fukuro-
kujin.
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i9o6.] Japanese Sketches 521
than by principles of right and duty, and to be alarmed by
vague rumors oi earthquakes and other impending calamities,
there can be no healthy family life, and, as a necessary sequel,
no healthy national life. Dr. Mayeda is, therefore, very strong
in his insistence on the necessity of having a healthy religion
as a basis of home and national life, and vigorously advocates
the introduction of religious teaching into Japanese schools of
every side. Dr. Mayeda is a prominent priest of the Amida
sect of Buddhists, and it has always seemed to me that some
day it will be discovered that the belief in Amida, the Buddha
of Eternal Life and Light, whose mercy is over all creatures,
will help towards a belief in him whom we worship as the
Eternal Son of God, and that whilst, whether in Japan or in
England, there is nothing so loathsome as a family from which
the light of faith has utterly died out, there is also a striking
resemblance between the best family life of the West and the
best ideals of Japan. For it is not all men in Japan that are
worshippers of Ebisu, Daikoku, Benten, and the Fox-God. There
are men and women here also, as amongst ourselves, with high
ideals' of duty, life, and conduct; nay, with that true, though
dim, realization of the Unseen and of man's relations to it,
which invariably tends to the active manifestation of the high-
est ideals of human life.
And this, then, is the work of those who sit in the Bark of
St. Peter and cast their Gospel net into the waters of Japan —
to strengthen all that is good in this motley people, and to
point them to the God " that heareth prayer," whose worship-
pers have no need of divination or soothsaying, and no fear of
fiery steeds or wandering foxes.
I could write more, but it is better to stop. I have tried to
point out how much Japan is in need of the elevating influences
of the Christian Faith. It will probably never be my fortune
to see in realization the whole of my ** heavenly vision " of a
united Church of Japan, purified and gathered in, around the
"Vicar of Christ," the man whose especial duty it is to **hold
the fort " until Christ himself comes to take the command of
his forces. My writing will not, however, be in vain if it in-
duces one soul to devote itself to the work of the Catholic
missions in Japan, or causes one prayer to ascend to the Great
and Holy Father of us all that " his kingdom may come on
earth as it has come in heaven."
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IRELAND UNDER CHARLES H.
HIS POLICY TOWARDS CATHOLICS.
BY WILLIAM F. DENNEHY.
HERE has lately been issued by the English Rolls
Commission a collection of documents relating
to the affairs of Ireland in the period immedi-
ately following the Restoration of Charles II.*
Many of the papers set out or epitomized in
the volufie, which has been admirably and impartially edited
by Mr. Robert Pentland Mahaffy, B.A., are of much historic
interest. Regarded as a whole, they make it perfectly clear
that the Stuart king was honestly desirous of doing justice to
his Catholic subjects, who had manfully, albeit disastrously for
themselves, proved their loyalty to his unfortunate and un-
trustworthy father. His Majesty was, however, sadly ham-
pered in the execution of his creditable designs by the fact
that their full accomplishment would necessarily involve hard-
ship to the English Protestant settlers, whom Puritan policy
had placed in possession of the lands and houses of Irish
Papists. The Cromwellian planters could always appeal to
their co-religionists and fellow-countrymen in England, and
Charles could not afford to undertake any risk which might
imperil the permanency of his newly acquired sovereignty.
That the dissolute monarch was always a Catholic by convic-
tion is as certain as anything can be, but he lacked courage
to sacrifice temporal place and power to the demands of con-
science. That he judged aright as to what would have occurred,
had he pursued a less temporizing course, the history of what
took place when his less politic brother, James II., ascended
the throne, amply attests. The more one examines his career,
the more marvelous appears the adroitness with which he
managed an aggressively and intolerantly Protestant people,
and even cajoled them into offering enthusiastic welcome to
the fervently Catholic princess whom he made Queen of Eng-
• Calendar of the State Papers relating to Ireland preserved in the Public Record Office,
1660-1662. London : His Majesty's Stationary Office. 1905.
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i9o6.] Ireland Under Charles IL 523
land.* Despite his faults, the ability and shrewdness of the man
almost extort adniration, however impossible it is to approve
his conduct, viewed from a conscientious or moral standpoint.
Not only had Charles to deal with the claims for restora-
tion to their older possessions or territories of the Irish gentry
and peasantry who had been ruthlessly transported by Crom-
well from the more fertile portions of the country to the least
hospitable districts of Connaught, he had also to satisfy as
best he could the demands of the many gallant cavaliers and
soldiers who had followed his fortunes while in exile, or lent
their swords to every foreign prince who had warred against
the hated Commonwealth. That the king's position was one
of grave embarrassment goes without the saying, and that the
records now published prove that he and his representatives
in Ireland often resorted to evasive and shifty measures is
scarcely to be wondered at To satisfy all parties was abso-
lutely impossible, in face of the danger, which always threat-
ened, of a new revolt in England * Amongst the papers re-
ferred to one may well be quoted as illustrating the difficulties
which had to be faced. As epitomized in the Calendar ^ it reads
as follows :
Petition to the Lords Commissiontrs for the Government
and Management of his Majesty's Affairs in Ireland of
Captain John Campbell, of Lord Killownie*s Regiment of
Horse, showing that :
Five years ago t petitioner had ceitain lands set out to him
in the counties of Meath and Kilkenny, for his arrears as due
for his service against the rebels in Ireland, and for other
arrears purchased.* These lands he quietly enjoyed ever
since.
• Catherine, second daughter of [ohn, Duke of Braganza, who recovered the Crown of
Portugal from Spanish usurpation. She was born at Viciosa, on the 25th of November, 1638.
Charles, who had positively declared that he would marry none but a Catholic princess,
sought her hand. The alliance was a notable gain for Portugal, then sorely pressed by the
intrigues of Spain. When she arrived in England, on the I4ih of May, 1662, tremendous
efforts were made to induce her to go through the marriage ceremony, but although she con-
sented to stand before the Arciibishop of Canterbury along with her intended husband, she
refused to respond to the usual questions. The Duke of York, afterwards James II., has
testified to the fact that Charles and Catherine were privately married "according to the
Romish ritual," by Lord Aubigny. The queen refused to be crowned in a Protestant church.
and was merely a spectator of her husband's coronation. The licentious conduct of the king
imposed sore trials on Catherine, but eventually, to her own discredit, she ceased to protest.
She died at Lisbon, on the 31st of December, 1705.
t This petition was lodged early in November, 1660.
t Many of the more opulent of the Parliamentary soldiers purchased the claims of their
more needy comrades to the satisfaction of their arrears of pay out of the land of Ireland to
which they were entitled.
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524 Ireland Under Charles IL I July.
By a gracious declaration given under the Sign Manual
and Privy Signet at Breda on the 4th-i4th of April, 1660,
and sent to the Duke of Albemarle for communication to the
army, the king declared that all grants and purchases ot any
estate made to and by any officers, soldiers, or others who
were then possessed of the same, and that all things relating
thereunto should be determined by Parliament. This prom-
ise was confirmed by a further letter of confirmation, dated
the 26th of May, promising special care to the soldiers under
his Grace's command who had served in the king's interest.
Afterwards the king, noticing the interruptions given to
several of the officers and soldiers by the Irish proprietors
and others employed under them, put forth a proclamation
quieting the possession of the soldiers and adventurers in
Ireland till Parliament should take care therein, as by the
said ** Declaration letters " appears.
Nevertheless, Thomas Luttrell, of Luttrelstown, Esq.,* not-
withstanding that petitioner has been in possession for five
years of Mooretown and Rowlestown, County Meath — which
is a good title until petitioner is evicted by course of law — and
notwithstanding he (I^uttrell) has accepted lands in Connaught
in lieu of those lands which he now enjoys, and notwithstand-
ing that all who promoted the rebellion in Ireland are excepted
out of the Act of Indemnity, dated the 5th of April, 1660, and
that Luttrell is not excepted from the operation of that Act —
has entered into possession of these lands under pretence of an
order which, upon misinformation, he secured from the king,
and detains them from the petitioner.
Lord Mountgarret also threatens to dispossess petitioner of
the rest of his estate which formerly belonged to him (Mount-
garret).
He prays for restoration and for freedom from disturbance
by Luttrell, either till Parliament declares itself, or till he be
evicted by due course of law. To this he is entitled, even if
he had no other title than bare possession, t
This is a lengthy extract, but it illustrates the nature of
the petitions which were being constantly addressed to the king
by Cromwellian planters, sore pre.ssed by the older proprietors
of the lands they had so greedily grabbed.
•Catholic ancestor of the infamous Luttrell, Lord Carhampton, whose cruelties mainly
brought about the Rebellion of 1798. The first of the Lutirells to attain rank was Sir Thoiras
Luttrell, who, on the i6th of November, 1553, was appointed Lord Chief Justice of the Com-
mon Pleas in Ireland. Few families in any country ever exhibited a mofe marked tendency
towards evil than did the Luttrells through successive generations. The last of them, Lord
Carhampton, was a monster of cruelty and vice.
I Calendar of State Papers, Ireland, 1660-1662, P. 8a.
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1906.] IRELAND UNDER CHARLES IL 525
As a matter of fact, Luttrell had resumed possession of his
property under an order signed by Charles on the 6th of
October, 1660, which declared invalid any grant to his detri-
ment " made in the name of the late usurper, or of any other
usurped power." Later on, another order was issued restoring
to Luttrell certain property of his within the city of Dublin
which had been conferred on one Hewson, probably a relative
of Colonel Hewson, who bad been its governor under Cicm-
well. Luttrell appears, however, to have been a grasping knave^
and although he had received restitution of his original pos-
sessions, he sought still to retain the lands in Connaught which
the Protector had assigned him at the time of the great Trans-
plantation. Accordingly, on the 21st of October, 1661, the
king by an order issued at Whitehall, London, commanded that
he should forthwith restore the latter to Sir John Bourke,* of
Derrymaclaughna, County Galway, ''who has specially merited
our favors." Similar orders had to be issued against Luttrell
in favor of the Earl of Clanricarde,t the Countess ot Mountrath,
and others whose properties in Connaught Luttrell was base
enough to seek to hold, despite the fact that he had received
full compensation by restoration to his own. The difficulties
which the king had to face were almost interminable, and there
is really some ground for assuming that he earned his cogno-
men of the Merry Monarch through a perfectly natural seeking
of respite from the worries by which he must have been con-
stantly beset. On the whole, however, Charles appears to have
been inclined to pursue a broad and statesmanlike policy with
regard to Ireland. Adopting the tactics which he followed
until he was lying on his death bed, he persisted in masquer-
ading as a resolute Protestant for the satisfaction of his British
subjects, who would have driven him back to exile if they had
known that he was at heart a Catholic. A remarkable instance
of his capacity for double-dealing is afforded by two docu-
ments in the collection edited by Mr. Mahaffy. One of these
sets forth the replies of the king to a number of queries sub-
• Sir John Burke, or Bourke, was married to a daughter of Richard, sixth Earl of Clanri-
carde, by his union with Elizabeth, sister of James, Earl of Ormonde.
t William, seventh Earl of Clanricarde, [married first, Lettice, daughter of Sir Henry
Shirley, by whom he had three sons, and second, Ellen, daughter of Donough, Earl of Clan-
earthy, by whom he had one son, Ulick, who fell at Aughrim fighting for James II., and two
daughters, Margaret, who married Bryan Magennis, Viscount Iveagh, and Honor, who was
the wife of the distinguished soldier, Patrick Sarsfield, Earl of Lucan, and who married, sec-
ondly, James Fitzjames, Duke of Berwick, illegitimate son of James II.
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526 IRELAND UNDER CHARLES IL [July,
mitted to him as to the manner in which he desired his Catho-
lic subjects in Ireland treated. His Majesty was emphatic in
his commands that those whom he styled " moderate Papists,"
I. ^., those who were willing to recognize his sovereignty, as
practically all the Catholics of the country were, should be ad-
mitted to the commission of the peace, to practice at the Bar,
and generally to public ofEce and employment, on taking the
oath of allegiance and without being compelled to take the
abominable oath of supremacy, which denied the authority of
the Pope in matters spiritual as well as temporal.
These replies of the king were given on the 22d of De-
cember, 1660. Their author had probably already decided to
restore to Iieland her separate Parliament, of which she had
been deprived by Cromwell. Definite action in this direction
was taken two months later, in February, 1661. Meantime,
however, it was necessary to dissemble lest English suscepti-
bilities should be aroused. Accordingly, on the 22d of Janu-
ary, 166 [, a proclamation, summarized as follows by Mr. Ma-
haffy, was issued from the Council Chamber, Dublin Castle :
We are given to understand that sundry unlawiul assem-
blies have of late been held by Papists, Presbyterians, In-
dependents, Anabaptists, Quakers, and other fanatical per-
sons meeting in great numbers, who meet in hundreds or
thousands under the pretended authority of some foreign
jurisdiction or of some local presbytery. In these assem-
blies some have taken upon them on their own heads to
appoint public fasts and days of humiliation or thanksgiv-
ing for his Majesty's subjects, and to give holy orders and
induct into ecclesiastical benefices, and to deprive ministers
— who have good titles by the laws of this realm — at their
pleasures by their arbitrary orders, by the force of such of
their parishioners as join with them and ge along with
them. At these meetings they speak evil of dignities, cast
dirt in the face of the lawful magistrates, and usurp the
essential rights of sovereignty itself. All these assemblies,
whether of Papists, Presbyterians, Independents, Anabap-
tists, Quakers, and other fanatical persons, are unlawful
and mischievous. We forbid the king's subjects to convoke
them, either under the name of days of humiliation, days of
thanksgiving, or consistorial days, or under any other pre-
tence whatsoever, or to be present at them or to execute
their decrees.
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I906.] IRELAND UNDER CHARLES II. 527
On the previous day, the 21st of January, 1661, the Lords
Justices and Council had issued another proclamation to the
adherents of the State Church, in which they canonized the
** Royal Martyr/' declaring : " We cannot doubt of the happy
condition of our late dread Sovereign of ever blessed memory,
Charles the First, being assured by the voice of truth itself
that whosoever loseth his life for Christ's sake shall find it,
in which respect martyrdom — wherewith he was undoubtedly
crowned — hath been justly styled the baptism of blood, and
the anniversary days of the death of the Martyrs have been
ever observed by the Church of God as the birthdays of their
glory, so that it might seem half a crime to shed a tear for
him whose soul the Lord hath delivered from death, his eyes
from tears, and his feet from falling; whom his bloody ene-
mies did advantage more by their malice and cruelty than they
could have done by the pretension of Allegiance and Loyalty,
snatching him from the sweet society of his dearest consort,
and most hopeful and Royal issue, and from the Government
of all his Kingdoms and people to place him in the bosom of
the blessed Angels and Saints triumphant." This being the
assured conviction of the authorities of Dublin Castle, it was
ordered that "on the thirtieth day of the present month" all
the king's lieges should assemble *'at their several parish
churches and join with their respective ministers in public
prayer that God will be graciously pleased to avert his judg-
ments from this nation due unto so horrid and bloody a crime,
and to discover more and more those who have been the prin-
cipal contrivers and actors in that unparalleled murder, and to
establish and radicate his Majesty in the just possession of his
hereditary crowns and kingdoms." In addition, those to whom
the proclamation was addressed were enjoined to " shut their
shops for the day." Why it should have been supposed by
any one that the divine justice threatened vengeance upon
Ireland because of the execution of Charles I. by English Puri-
tans baffles comprehension. It is, however, by no means un-
likely that the proclamation was really issued as a device for
testing the loyalty of the Cromwellian planters. It is easy to
imagine the sour faces with which many a Puritan draper or
grocer "closed his shop" on the 30th of January, 1661, and
went slowly and solemnly to Christ Church or St. Patrick's to
listen to panegyrics on the dead king from Episcopalian di-
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528 IRELAND UNDER CHARLES II. [July,
vines, when they would have much preferred to hearken to
some drum-thumping minister of the Praise- God- Barebones type.
It is doubtful, indeed, if the feelings of mutual hostility
between the rival Protestant sects were not fully as intense as
those which they collectively cherished towards Catholics.
Under the Act of Settlement,* the interests of the Established
Church, of which Charles was the Supreme Head, had been
as well protected as Parliament could protect them. By virtue
of its provisions the Episcopalian clergy were entitled to re-
cover possession of all the endowments which bad been stolen
from the ancient Catholic Church of the country at the time
of the Reformation, minus, of course, those which had been
conferred at the same period on greedy courtiers and other
persons in authority. During the existence of the Common-
wealth, however, there had been a great influx of Noncon-
formists into Ireland, and these folk were by no means will-
ing to recognize the supremacy of the Establishment. Mostly
of English birth or descent, they were fervent in their hatred
of the native Catholic and Celtic population, but they were
equally fervent in their detestation of the domination of Epis-
copalian Protestantism. The Calendar of State Papers casts in-
teresting light upon their attitude. On the 4th of October,
1660, the Earl of Mountrath,t Lord Justice, and Major William
Bury, one of the Royal Commissioners for the Government of
Ireland, wrote from Dublin Castle to London to Sir Edward
Nicholas, Secretary of State, as follows:
We consider it our duty to address you concerning a mat-
ter which affects the public peace here. There have been
lately two sermons preached here by Mr. Samuel Madder —
who, we now find, writes himself Mather — and who preached
here by an appointment from the late usurper (1. ^., Cromwell).
Upon his apparent readiness to accept his Majesty's govern-
ment he was allowed by us to continue preaching.
•Act 14, Car. II., cap. ii. Irish Sututcs. Vol. II. P. 315.
t Charles Coote, first Earl of Mountrath, son of Sir Charles Coote, who made himself
famous, or infamous, by the murderings and plunderings which, during the reigns of Eliza-
beth and James I., he carried on, with much profit to himself, against the Irish Catholics.
The Earl of Mountrath had supported Cromwell and held high positions in the Parliamentairy
army. Cromwell appointed him Governor or President of Connaught, and this office he held
at the time when the Restoration became inevitable. Recognizing how the tide was flowing,
be promptly offered his services to Charles, and was rewarded by the title named as well as
by plenary recognition of his right to hold the vast estates which he or his father had won from
Papists at the point of the sword. He died the i8th of December, 1661, of smallpox, and was
interred in St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin, in the following February.
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I906.] IRELAND UNDER CHARLES 11. 529
The sermons gave offence here, as tending to sedition and
tumult, and we thought well to take evidence on oath of cer-
tain persons who heard these sermons.
One, Mr. Egerton, deposed before us as to the character of
the sermons, and this evidence Mr. Madder denied not, but
labored to gratify. He declared himself opposed to Episco-
pacy and the Book of Common Prayer, yet denies utterly
that he preached anything against the civil government.
He says that he is ready to obey any civil government which
God places over ^im, and declares that what he spoke was
spoken in the matter of ecclesiastical government. In proof
of this he appeals to his sermons themselves, which, he says,
he was asked by persons well-affected to the king to have
printed.
Mountrath and Bury had no belief in Madder's assertions as
to the character of his sermons, and asked him to hand over
the notes of his discourses. With this request he declined to
comply, on the ground that in them '' there might be things
more criminous than anything which be said, for that be did
not preach directly from his notes." The Lord Justice and
Commissioner declared that they were puzzled as to what course
to adopt touching the redoubtable Madder. Shortly afterwards,
on the 3d of December, 1660, Jeremy Taylor, bishop-elect of
Down and Connor, handed Mountrath and Bury a letter
sent him by some person whom he had employed to watch
the proceedings of the Nonconformists in his future diocese.
It would appear that before Dr. Taylor delivered the letter he
tore off the signature. At any rate, it is now mutilated in this
way. In part it ran as follows :
In your last you gave me a charge to have an eye to the
actings of the Presbyterians. In my last to you I could say
but little, but now I wish I could not say so much.
They had a meeting last Monday week, in which it was
concluded that articles should be drawn against you, and
the charge of drawing them was put on Gregory, Drydall,
Ramsay, and Hutcheson, who met on Tuesday last with their
brethren at Newtown. Your charge by them was read unto
the rest containing stuff to this purpose : that you were So-
cinian, that you denied original sin, and that you were an
Arminian, and so a heretic in grain.
On the 1 2th of December Mountrath and Bury sent on the
letter to Nicholas, telling him that Taylor had informed them
VOL. LXXXIII.— 34
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S30 Ireland Under Charles II. [July,
it was written by one Robert Maxwell wbo feared that, if it
became known he was the author, he " might contract hatred
thereby from some ministers of the Presbytery in the County
Down.'' The earl and the major had, however, something
more to report concerning other enemies of the Established
Church. They went on to inform the Secretary of State:
We lately received letters from Captain Webster, a captain
in the army, and a paper found on a Popish priest for making
collections of moneys, for what end we know not ; and the
like is done, as we are informed, in several parts oi the coun-
try. We enclose the paper.
The Popish priests appear here boldly and in large num-
bers, and, though this is more penal in England than in Ire-
land, yet as these men have always been incendiaries here we
think it wise to secure them and prevent them from saying the
Mass and preaching. Priests who, when out on bail, think
themselves entitled to continue preaching, we have ordered to
be committed, as they reflect scandal on the king's govern-
ment.
The letter concluded with an almost plaintive expression of
the writer's sense of the difficulties by which they were sur-
rounded . and of hope that Charles and his immediate advisers
would recognize '' how we, his Majesty's servants here, are be-
set on all sides by parties of seeming different persuasions and
on several and differing interests, and in several parts of the
kingdom ; and how opposite soever they seem to be one to
another, yet from them all we find a concurrence of desires to
interrupt and disturb his Majesty's Government." It is im-
possible to assert that matters in this respect in Ireland to-day
differ very much from the aspect which they presented well-
nigh two centuries and a half ago. In view of all the circum-
stances, Mountrath and Bury suggested that care should be
taken to prevent the importation of munitions of war, saying:
'* We are jealous in the matter of powder, because we are in-
formed that the Irish Papists are anxious to provide them-
selves with it as far as they can, and because of their insolency."
That the Catholics everywhere throughout the country were
behaving with the strictest prudence would be absurd to assert,
but that their '' insolency " was far surpassed by the conduct
of the Nonconformists is unquestionable.
That there were occasions, however, in which the poor
Papists were quite justified in manifesting the "insolency" of
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I906.] IRELAND UNDER CHARLES II. 531
which they were accused is quite certain. An instance of thi5
kind is recorded in a despatch, dated the 19th of October, 1660^
sent by two Cromwellian officers serving in the army which
was now the king's. These worthies were Captain Livesey
Sharpies and Cornet John Jibbes. They wrote the Earl of
Mountrath as follows:
Hearing of a convening of the Irish in the parish of Kille-
wan, about seven miles from here, and not positively knowing
the place of the convention, the party which we sent out be-
ing divided, five of them happened on the place where they
were all met at Mass and, seeing the priest in vestments,
seized upon him. As they wanted force, by reason of the
rest not coming in, the priest was rescued by the multitude,
their arms taken from the soldiers, and they ill-treated and
beaten with stones and clubs. Upon the return of the party
we sent out another, which brought in some men who confess
that they were present when the soldiers were ill-treated, but
will confess no more, nor can the soldiers positively swear to
them. They can, however, swear that the priest was one who
was formerly taken by some of Major Moore's troop, and let
out by Captain Foster, Qigh Sheriff of Monaghan, upon bond
not to ofl&ciate again as priest. The prisoners we keep here
till we know your pleasure — but we may say that they threat-
ened the men with hanging and other torture.
In or about the 20th of October, 1660— the precise date
cannot be ascertained — a petition was presented to the king,
from Arthur, Lord Viscount Magennis of Iveagh, showing that
the petitoner: "being under years when the distractions in
Ireland broke out in the time of King Charles I., put himself
into the service of the said king, and was the last of the
Colonels to submit — as appears by his articles made by Com-
missary-General Reynolds. The enemy prevailing, petitioner
left the kingdom, and has ever since been in his Majesty's ser-
vice in foreign parts, and is now a captain in the foot company
of his Highness the Duke of Gloucester. Yet his lands are
seized on, and he has not wherewithal to find food and lai-
ment." The petition was forwarded to Lord Chancellor Eus-
tace * for examination, and that functionary reported in favor
of the granting of its prayer. On the 23d of February, 1661,
the king issued an order to the Lords Justices, commanding the
♦ Sir Maurice Eustace, Lord Chancellor of Ireland. His father was William Fitz-John
Eustace, of Castlemartin. County Kildare.
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532 Ireland Under Charles II. [July,
restoration of Lord Iveagh * to his ancient possessions. Later
his son, the next Viscount, stood by James IL against Wil-
liam of Orange, and with Sarsfield, Lord Clare, and the rest
of the " Wild Geese," followed the Stuart monarch into exile
anew. As a necessary consequence, he was attainted and his
territories confiscated anew. The Viscountcy of Iveagh is now
held by Cecil Guinness, head of the famous Dublin firm of
brewers, who is descended from the Magennises, and in whose
favor the title was revived by her late Majesty, Queen Victoria.
It is needless to say that the dignity of this ancient Irish peer-
age is in no danger of being impaired through its present pos-
sessor being unable to provide himself with " food and rai-
ment." Although the Lord Iveagh of to- day is not a Catho-
lic, there is no Irish nobleman more generally respected by
the majority of his fellow-countrymen for his undiscriminating
exercise of benevolence and his princely display of fitting state.
Meantime, the working out of the reversal of the distribu-
tion of property enacted by Cromwell and the Puritan Par-
liament was being carried on with infinite difficulty and con-
stant contention. Mr. Mahaffy epitomizes the situation v^ry
accurately, when he says that innocent Protestants and in-
nocent Papists (i. ^., those who had not borne arms against
Charles I., either on behalf of the Cromwellians or the Irish),
who had not accepted lands in Connaught, should be the first
restored to their original properties. After these were to come
innocent Protestants and Papists who had accepted such com-
pensation. Persons who were deprived of estates in Connaught
or Clare were protected by the provision that they should be
given equivalent grants in those divisions of the country. Next
to these, in order of restitution, came such Papists as had
constantly followed the ensigns of the king in Connaught. A
certain proportion of lands was set apart for the satisfac-
tion of the claims of those who contracted debts for the sup-
port of the Royal army previous to 1649. In the case of all
the lands referred to, certain rents were reserved to the Crown,
which are still payable, except in the case of tenants who have
purchased under the beneficent provisions of the legislation
which will remain forever to the credit of Lord Ashbouine,
Lord Chancellor of Ireland, and Mr. George Wyndham, lately
• This was Arthur, third Viscount Magennis of Iveagh, whose mother was a daughter of
Sir John Bellew, of Bellewstown, a fervent Catholic. Lord Iveagh died in Dublin, on the 1st
of May, 1683, and was buried in St. Catherine's Church, Thomas Street.
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I906.] IRELAND UNDER CHARLES IL 533
Chief Secretary. The Lord Lieutenant was directed to review
the judgments of the CromwelHan Courts, granting land in
Connaught and Clare, and to rectify any injustice which they
might have inflicted ; and the king willingly accepted the
ofFer of six months' rent made by some adventurers and the
whole year's rent offered by others in return for this generous
settlement. Commissioners were to be appointed to settle
Protestant plantations and to see to the erection of Protestant
churches. Certain exceptions from redress were, however, care*
fully made. All those who had joined in the famous plot of
1 64 1, for the surprising of Dublin Castle, as well as any of
those who had participated in the trial of Charles L, ''or who
were of the guard of halberdiers assisting to put the bloody
sentence of death in execution," were so excepted. Elaborate
arrangements were made for carrying the new settlement into
effect. The Commissioners appointed were the Earl of Cork,
Lord Conway and Killulta, Lord Valentia, and some thirty
other soldiers or lawyers. From the outset of their proceed-
ings, the Commissioners found themselves involved in serious
complexities and difficulties, by reason of the fact that many
of the CromwelHan adventurers and planters bad indulged in
numerous forgeries and frauds, thus getting possession of a far
larger amount of land than they were entitled to, either by
reason of their original personal grants or those which they
purchased from other speculators. As has been already shown,
however, the king frequently cut short the labors of the Com-
mission in somewhat peremptory fashion, by ordering the im-
mediate restoration of prominent Catholic loyalists to their
estates,and residences, with a supreme disregard for the regu-
lar working of its functions. That Charles really desired the
pacification of Ireland, and the rendering of justice to his
Catholic subjects in that country, is as certain as anything
can be. To this fact, as much as any other, is ascribable the
loyalty with which the majority of the people clung to the
cause of his unfortunate brother, James H.
That the king had a settled policy in regard to Ireland is
made quite manifest by several of the documents calendared
by Mr. MahafTy. We have, for example, the fact that his
Majesty summoned his Irish Parliament to assemble on the
same day — the 8th of May, 1661 — for which he convoked that
of England By this exercise of the Royal authority he re-
conferred on Ireland her original legislative independence.
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534 IRELAND UNDER CHARLES IL [July,
Desperate efTorts were made by the representatives of the
Cromwellian faction to secure the exclusion of Catholics from
the House of Commons.
The Earl of Orrery, Lord Justice, wrote to Nicholas on the
20th of February, saying: "We are waiting for the return of
Bills transmitted to England in order to the calling of a Par-
liament, but that Bill on which the Protestants are most in-
tent is the Bill for administering the Oath of Supremacy to the
House of Commons here, it being in effect our foundation
stone." On the nth of March the king issued an order to
the Lords Justices directing the appointment of Sir William
Dumvile, or Domvile, * Attorney General, as Speaker of the
House of Commons, but on the 20th of April Mountrath wrote
to Nicholas, telling him that he and Orrery had written the
English Lord Chancellor invoking his influence with Charles
to secure that freedom of choice of a Speaker should be left
to the Commons " in accordance with the established prac-
tice." Mountrath continued that he and his colleague were
agreed that such a concession would have satisfactory results.
This, he explained, would be because " such have been the
endeavors of my Lord Orrery and myself in the elections
that we are confident we shall be able to give his Majesty
a good account of their proceedings in order to his Majesty's
service, which, I may with confidence say, is our great am-
bition." On the 1 8th of May, Mountrath was able to report
that Sir Audley Mervin had been elected Speaker, adding:
" I am glad to say the members of Parliament do as well here
as yours do in England, and hope this will prove a happy
Parliament for the church {%, e., the Protestant) and the king-
dom." The truth was, of course, that the House of Com-
mons had been unscrupulously packed by means of the vari-
ous so called Boroughs, created by James L, the representa-
tives of which were mainly the mere nominees of members of
the overwhelmingly Protestant House of Lords, t
•
• Sir William Domvile, Attorney General for Ireland. Member of Parliament in the Irish
House of Commons for the County Dublin, a member of the Privy Council of Ireland. He
married a Miss Lake, daughter of Sir Thomas Lake, of Cannons. Middlesex, England, who
had held the position of Secretary of State to James I. Sir William played a prominent part
in securing the restoration of the Royal authority in Ireland following the death of Cromwell.
t In the House of Lords, the English Protestant Primate of All Ireland, John Bramhall.
seated on the woolsack, read the king's commission constituting him Speaker of that assembly.
The House of Commons was composed almost exclusively of Protestant EngHsh settlers, with
the exceptions of one Catholic and one Anabaptist, both returned for Tuam. The Speaker,
Sir Audley Mervin, in his official address to the Lords Justices, observed: "I may warrant-
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I906.] IRELAND UNDER CHARLES 11. 535
In Dublin, and throughout the other portions of Ireland,
there were enthusiastic rejoicings at the annouiicement of the
intended marriage of the king with the Infa&ta of Catholic
Portugal. The majority of the people naturally welcomed the
intelligence, the significance of which they fully appreciated,
indicating as it did his Majesty's leaning towards the ancient
faith. On the 22 d of May 1661, the Houses of Lords and
Commons adopted a joint address to the king in which they
declared :
Our joys have lately been so full that nothing was left to
increase them but the confident expectation of seeing our
happiness entailed upon posterity, and that it was not in our
eye how this could be better effected than by your Majesty's
timely marriage to such a person as might bear some propor-
tion with your high birth and royal virtues, as well as with
your princely inclinations.
The Lords Justices have declared to us the most welcome
news of his Majesty's intentions to match with the Infanta of
Portugal, a princess whose beauties and excellencies are far
renowned, like the powers and arms of that ancient crown,
made famous by her triumphs in the remotest places of the
habitable world.
We profess our infinite joy and satisfaction, first adoring
and magnifying the Divine Majesty for the guidance of your
royal heart unto so happy a choice.
We shall loyally support your Majesty in your royal inten-
tion, which promises blessings, not only upon your loyal
subjects, but likewise upon such other parts of Christendom
as enjoy not the prosperity of his Majesty's royal crown and
dignity.
Mountrath testified that '' bells, * bonefires,' and ordnance
are attesting the public joy about the news of the king's in-
tended marriage." The Catholics of Dublin, at any rate,
had not misjudged the king's gracious intent in their regard.
On the 4th of June, 1661, Charles issued from Whitehall a
mandate to the Irish Lords Justices "concerning the Papist
inhabitants of Dublin." This was to the following effect:
ably say, since Ireland was happy under an English Government, there was never so choice a
collection of Protestant fruit that ever grew within the walls of the Commons* House. Your
Lordships have piped in your siunmons to this Parliament, and the Irish have danced. How
many have voted for and signed to the returns of Protestant elections ? So that we may hope
for, as we pray, that Japhet may be persuaded to dwell in the tent of Shem." This Parlia-
ment, with various prorogations, continued to exist until the 8th of August, 1666, when it was
dissolved.
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536 Ireland Under Charles II. [July.
** The Roman Catholic inhabitants of Dublin have asked to be
restored to their possessions and privileges, and we now have
received full information in the matter from the Duke of Or-
monde testifying to their loyalty. Those who remained loyal
till the withdrawal of King Charles I.'s authority, in 1647, ^^^
heirs, etc., of such of them as are dead, shall be restored ac-
accordingly. You shall require the Commissioners appointed
for settling the security for arrears before the 5th of June, 1649,
and all persons deriving from them or possessing the petition-
ers' said estates, to forbear disposing of them, and to deliver
to the said petitioners the possession and profits thereof."
That the king was thoroughly sincere in his desire to place
the Catholics of the country on terms of complete equality with
their Protestant fellow- subjects is convincingly shown by two
other orders, also addressed to the Lords Justices, and both
dated at Whitehall, the 22d of May, 1661. One of these is thus
epitomized in the Calendar of State Papers :
Divers of our subjects who formerly lived in Limerick, Gal-
way, and our other towns were expelled therefrom and are
still, by reason only of their race and religion, prevented from
returning there. This is bad for our trade, as it drives many
of our traders abroad, where they engage in trade to the en-
richment of foreign princes. Those who had formerly the
right to trade in these parts shall continue to have that right,
and without making any national distinction between our sub-
jects of that our kingdom or giving atiy interruption upon pre-
tence of difference of judgment or opinion in matters of reli-
gion, but that all shall act and deal together as becometh our
loyal and dutiful subjects. Mayors, sheriffs, and other offi-
cers of our cities, towns, and corporations, shall take notice of
this order, and it shall be published in the different cities, etc.
On the same day the king issued another proclamation or-
dering that Popish lawyers should have as full freedom to prac-
tice in the Irish law courts as they enjoyed under Charles I.,
on merely taking the oath of . allegiance and, therefere, with-
out being required to swear the obnoxious oath of supremacy.
Impartial perusal of the collection of state papers now pub-
lished will convince every reader that the Merry Monarch,
who, according to Rochester, ''never said a foolish thing and
never did a wise one," consistently endeavored to render jus-
tice to his Irish Catholic subjects.
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Current JSvents.
The proceedings of the Duma have
Russia. been watched with mingled feelings
of hope and fear ever since, with
great pomp and circumstance, the elected House was opened
by the Tsar on the loth of May, almost on the very anniver-
sary of the assembling of the States General in France in 1789.
On one side of the hall in which the Tsar delivered his speech
were assembled the officials of the empire, admirals and generals,
members of the State Council, governors of cities and of prov-
inces, decked out with all the magnificence which clothes can
gfive^, on the other side appeared the representatives of the
people, to a great extent roughly clad in high, unpolished jack-
boots, wearing every shade of rusty black clothes, some with
faces burned to mahogany color, others with dead pale« intel-
ligent features and tangled hair and beards. The contrast be-
tween the right and left sides of the hall is declared by an
eye-witness to have been dramatically striking. "One could
imagine the aristocratic phalanx regarding this strange intru-
sion with the frozen stare of doomed combatants watching the
entry of destroying beasts into the arena " In the ranks of
the elected representatives there is a Catholic bishop from Po-
land, and there are besides 29 Catholics, some of whom are
priests. The greater part, of course, belong to the Orthodox
Church ; Mohammedans, however, have 1 1 representatives and
the Jews 10. Three Tartar priests contribute to the variety.
As at present constituted, there are 503 members in all, of
whom at the opening of the assembly 20 belonged to the
Right, 33 to the Centre, and 327 to the Left or Opposition.
Of the latter group 202 avowed themselves members of the
Constitutional Democratic party, and 125, nearly all peasants,
called themselves Independents. A strange feature of the as-
sembly is that the government is not supported by any one of
the parties, even the Right and the Centre being parts ci the
opposition. The twenty members of the Right, more autocratic
than the Tsar himself, blame him for having issued the Mani-
festo of October 30, by which autocracy was abandoned. The
Centre accepts that document, but differs from the Constitu-
tional Democrats as to the way of carrying out its provisions.
The state of things in Russia at the opening of the Duma
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538 Current Events [July,
may be briefly summarized as follows: The head of the State
is believed to be sincerely desirous of giving a fair trial to
what may be called a constitutional rigime. He is surrounded,
however, by bitter, self-interested opponents of any limitation
of the absolute power under the protection of which they hav^
grown rich and powerful. These forces of reaction are elated
by the success which has attended M. Durnovo's repressive
measures in the last few months, and they hold all power in
their hands. The foreign loan had filled the treasury. The
army had proved itself willing to be the instrument of absolute
power. The strongest desire of the largest element in the Duma
is for more land, and if this were gratified the refotms desired
by the intellectuals might fail to obtain their support. In tbe
background, as the sanction which gives efficacy to law, is tbe
revolutionary party, ready to wreak vengeance in case of fail-
ure and to plunge the country into anarchy.
Whether such a catastrophe will be averted depends upon
the wisdom and the moderation of the strongest party in the
Duma — the Constitutional Democrats. The extremists on either
side are anxious and ready to take advantage of any mistake
which may be made. Up to the present time nothing is more
surprising than the moderation which has characterized their
proceedings. The demands, however, which they have been
making have been extreme. They have thought to obtain, by
asking, more reforms and a greater measure of self-government
than have been secured in other countries by centuries of po-
litical conflict. But when the government treated these de-
mands with what looked like studied contempt, the Duma ac-
cepted the situation calmly and proceeded to elaborate its
plans and to work methodically for their realization in other
ways.
The first demand of the Duma^ while it showed a generous
spirit, seems lacking in political intelligence, especially after
the brutal attempt since made upon the lives of the King and
Queen of Spain. This was for an amnesty for the ten thou-
sand persons in prison for political offences, including even
those who were guilty of assassination. It was made in the
Address to the Throne in reply to the Tsar's speech, and
with it were included universal suffrage for women as well as
men, the responsibility of ministers to the Duma, as well as
the abolition, in its present form, of the Council of the Empire.
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i9o6.] Current Events 539
Other demands were that every sphere of legislation should be
subject to revision by Parliament; that the death penalty
should, in all cases, be abolished; that the lands of the great
landlords should be compulsorily expropriated for the benefit
of the peasants, at a fair price — not therefore confiscated; that
the lands of the Crown, of the monasteries, and of the Church,
should be granted to them ; and that the claims of the many
and various nationalities should be conceded. All these things
the Crown was asked to do by a stroke of the pen. To ask
the Crown of its own act to make such vital departure from
the established order, looks like an abdication, on the part of
the Duma^ of the work which it itself is called upon to accom-
plish in the course of years. Th6 Tsar refused to receive di-
rectly the Address. He insisted upon its being transmitted to
him through a Court official. No reply was given in his name.
He left it to the government to refuse the demands of the
Duma. Whether this was done to avoid personal responsibility
is uncertain.
The Duma bore the affront involved in the Tsar's refusal to
receive its President in a way which disappointed its enemies.
The House treated it as a matter of small moment, and even
when it learned that not one of its demands was granted, it
satisfied itself with passing unanimously an order of the day,
drafted by peasants and moved by a peasant deputy, in which
a Ministry animated by such disregard of the wishes of the
nation was declared to be unfit for office, and requiring it to
give place to one enjoying the confidence of the people's re-
presentatives. No attention has so far been paid to this reso-
lution. In Germany and in this country, as well as in Russia,
ministers look upon themselves as primarily responsible to the
Kaiser and President. To be responsible to the Duma^ the
Ministry declared, would involve a radical alteration in the
fundamental laws recently promulgated; even the discussion of
it was said to be beyond the province of the house. No less
direct was the denial given to the other demands. The distri-
bution of public and Church lands among the peasants, and
the expropriation of private lands, were declared to be absolute-
ly inadmissible, and no alternative proposal was made in the
reply. All right of the deputies to interfere in matters of ad-
ministration and police was flatly repudiated. The government
shortly afterwards proceeded to show its independence by
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executing eight persons convicted of rebellion, for whose pardon
the Duma had made an earnest appeal.
The attitude of uncompromising opposition taken up by
the government might have led the Duma to take an equally
foolish course on the other side, a thing which would have
been gratifying to the officials on the one hand, and to the Social-
ists and Revolutionaries on the other. Instead of that, it set
to work at elaborating its agrarian proposals in a more united
and business-like way than before. While it is true that the
blank denial of all agrarian reform has led some eighty peasant
deputies to join an organization of a somewhat revolutionary
character, called the Group of Toil, which would set aside the
Duma altogether, the main body are determined to effect their
objects by parliamentary means and to work patiently to secure
them little by little. The proposals of this group were almost
unanimously rejected. The hope for future progress lies in a
solution being found for this agrarian question, in some moder-
ate and reasonable reform which will prevent the peasants be*
ing thrown back on the Revolutionaries.
In order to bring about the solution of the agrarian prob-
lem, a problem which all parties recognize as imperatively re-
quiring settlement, the government, subscquentl> to the reply
made to the address, abandoned its non possumus attitude and
offered certain concessions. These are, however, considered to
be wholly inadequate. For the needs of the peasants, in order
that they may live, some i8o millions of acres are required.
The amount the government proposes to provide by its scheme
is barely lo millions. The Socialists, at the other extreme,
would abolish property altogether, including even fisheries,
water-mills, and mines, and would give no compensation at all
to the present owners. They then propose to divide the whole
of Russia into ten-acre lots. The programme of the Constitu-
tional Democrats, which has been accepted by the peasants, is
to expropriate only so much as would provide the popula-
tion enough for its sustenance, not so much as each family
could farm ; and to pay a reasonable price for all land taken
from private owners. The cost of this is variously estimated
at from fifteen hundred to two thousand millions of dollars,
which the friends of the peasants say they would be able to
pay, being less than the present dues and rents. The plan
would involve the destruction of all estates of over 2,cxx> acres.
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The news received within the last few days of the fearful
massacre of Jews which has taken place at Bjelostok in the
province of Grodno, in Western Russia, dashes to the ground
the hopes that were being entertained that the reign of lawless-
ness in power had come to an end. It is asserted that the
government connived at atrocities which included the murder
of 600 persons in open daylight. As the butchery went on
for eight hours, without interference from either the soldiers or
the police, there is every reason to believe the truth of this
assertion. At all events, the government has come to be gen-
erally looked upon as incapable and blind. So many disturb-
ances are breaking out through the length and breadth of the
Empire that a general uprising is feared. The one safeguard
of the public weal is the fact that the government has spent
all its money, having already exhausted the recent loan; while
the financiers are willing to negotiate only on the condition
that the demands of the Duma are granted.
After having sent the telegram to
Germany. Count Goluchowski which excited
so much comment, the German
Emperor determined to pay a visit in person to the Emperor-
King. What was said in private by the two monarchs has not
been revealed. By sending a joint telegram, however, to the
King of Italy they have let the public know that the Triple
Alliance is in as full force and vigor as ever — a statement
which will, oi course, be accepted as a complete refutation of
the opinion widely entertained that it had lost all real power.
One of the German generals has recently declared that the
German people are a race of rulers, and that it was their busi-
ness to conquer the world. Whether this is really to happen
in the future or not, the measures taken to strengthen the mili-
tary and naval forces necessitate ever-increasing burdens in the
present. The taxation recently sanctioned by the Reichstag
imposes upon every traveler by rail, whose fare amounts to
seven dollars and a half, an addition of more than one sixth of
this amount, while a journey for which the ticket costs 16 cents
will contribute an additional cent towards the expenditure of
the State. Opponents of cigarette smoking will not be sorry
that what is considered an oppressive duty has been imposed
upon these pernicious articles, and that the collection of this
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542 Current EVENTS [July,
impost involves minute and vexatious inspection. Death duties
also have been imposed, reaching in some cases to as much as
25 per cent of the whole inheritance. Very nearly 60 mil-
lions of additional taxation has been sanctioned by the Reich-
stag. It is not, therefore, to be wondered at that when more
than two millions more were asked for the South-West African
Colonies, the Reichstag could only be persuaded to vote a
twentieth part of that sum, and the grant of this sum was ac-
companied with a demand for the withdrawal of the troops
stationed in the southern districts of the colony. This demand
enraged the officer. Colonel von Deimler, who is on the point
of departing to take command of these troops. What right be
had to make a speech in the Reichstag our ignorance of
German parliamentary methods makes us unable to explain.
The enraged soldier declared in the face of the assembly that
he would pay no attention to their wishes: ''So long as I
have the honor to hold the command, the southern districts
will not be abandoned, unless my Emperor issues a command
to that effect, and it is he alone who has to decide and no
one else." This declaration brought down upon him the most
severe of rebukes. The leader of the Radical Left asked how
a representative of the government could have the audacity to
declare before the House: "You may decide what you like,
the South will not be abandoned." " If a Sovereign speaks in
that tone we may take it quietly. But if, here in this House,
an officer dares to employ such expressions — why we have left
the region of Parliamentarism; we are dealing with the S9lda-
teska.*' The Catholic Centre supported the Radicals in this
condemnation, and when the proposal was made, shortly after-
wards, to establish a Colonial Secretaryship, they joined with
the Social Democrats in defeating it.
However devoted the members of the Reichstag may be
to the maintenance of their powers and privileges, their devo-
tion to duty is not great enough to make them attend re-
gularly the meetings of the Parliament. To secure a bet-
ter attendance, the government has found it desirable to in-
troduce a Bill for the payment of its members. The amount
of pay is not exorbitant, amounting to about $750 a year.
The Bill provided also for free traveling on the railroads un-
der certain conditions and at certain times. It passed its third
reading by 210 votes against 52.
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i9o6.] Current Events 543
The new Foreign Secretary, Baron von Tschirscbky und
Bogendorf, in his first important speech before the Reichstag
declared that the period of estrangement with England was
past. The visit of the burgomasters of the principal German
cities to England, and the warm manner in which they had
been welcomed, together with the utterances of the members of
the English Cabinet on this occasion, would meet, the Baron said,
with the most cordial reception on the part of the Imperial Gov-
ernment. The peace of Europe, its own interests, and friendly
relations with all foreign powers were the objects which his
government sought. The Baron defined as follows the attitude
of his government towards the rest of the world: "The Im-
perial Government will trust to itself; it will stand on its o\vn
feet; and it will pursue its way and not allow itself to be di-
verted from its path by Press manoeuvres, be they never so
skillful, or by any other kind of political aspersions.^' The
declarations of the Foreign Secret aiy with regard to the un-
impaired strength of the Triple Alliance gave great satisfac-
tion in Italy and, by fully recognizing the loyal attitude of
their country, he went far to remove the bad impression caused
by the Kaiser's telegram to Count Goluchowski.
The Navy League represents ''the most momentous po-
litical idea of the last two decades of German history." Such
is the declaration of the First Burgomaster of Hamburg on
the occasion of the annual meeting of the League in that city.
The League embodies the desire of the Germans to become a
world-power; and that this desire, while it originated with
the Emperor, is widely shared in by his people is shown by
the fact that the number of members has increased during the
past year by about a quarter of a million, and now reaches the
remarkable figure of close upon a million. Other countries have
their naval leagues, but the largest of these, after the German,
numbers no more than 20,000. The promoters of the League are
by no means satisfied with the results already attained. Their
navy is, they declare, by no means strong. Its ships are in-
ferior. The necessity for a stronger navy arises from its being
impossible for Germany to become a world-power unless it
dons* strong armor on the sea and displays its power abroad.
They declare that Germany has as much right as England to
build a fleet, to have colonies, and to conduct an extensive
foreign trade. To the meeting at Hamburg Prince Henry of
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544 Current Events [July,
Prussia was sent by the Emperor as protector of the associa-
tion. A detachment of torpedo boats, and other vessels of
the Navy, was sent in honor of the event. To the Emperor
a telegram was sent, in which it was declared to be the grow-
ing conviction of the people that a strong navy, together with
the army, constituted the best pledge of peace. It does not
seem probable that the project for disarmament, which the
British Prime Minister has so much at heart, will be adopted
by either the German Emperor or his people.
Prince Hohenlohe held the office
Austria-Hungary. of Prime Minister of Austria for
three weeks only. At the end of
this brief period — brief even on the continent — he resigned,
and by doing so became, it is said, the most popular man in
Austria as the unflinching defender of its rights. The cause of
his resignation was a conflict with the P^me Minister of Hun-
gary, Dr. Wekerle. The legal relations between Austria and
Hungary are very complicated, so complicated indeed as to be,
perhaps, beyond the comprehension of foreigners. What seems
clear is that, while legally united, the two countries mutually
hate each other. It is equally clear that the Hungarians are
anxious to make the bond of union as weak as possible. In
pursuance of this idea Dr. Wekerle insisted upon his demand
that the tariff should be voted in Hungary as a Hungarian
tariff alone, and not as an Austro- Hungarian tariff as hitherto,
and that the future economic relationship between Austria and
Hungary should be regulated not by a Customs and Trade
Alliance, or economic compact, but by a special commercial
Treaty. This demand emphasizes the separate entity of Hun-
gary, and compliance with it was regarded by the Prince as
detrimental to Austrian interests. The Emperor acceded to
the Hungarian Premier's proposals, accepted his Austrian Pre-
mier's resignation, and by doing so is considered to have in-
fringed upon the rights of the Austrian Reichsrath. The peo-
ple of Austria are, consequently, exasperated not only with
the Hungarians, but with their own Emperor.
The Reichsrath took the unprecedented course of meet-
ing, although there was no responsible Ministry in existence,
and with practical unanimity — itself also almost unprecedented
in recent Austrian Parliamentary annals — voted a protest against
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i9o6.] Current Events 545
the modification of the juridical status without its consent.
The leader of the Catholic Centre declared that it was in-
tolerable that decisions affecting Austria should be taken
over the head of the Parliament and without its consent, and
that it was the duty of the House to rise like one man to de-
fend its rights against attack " from whatever quarter attack
might come"> another member made the allusion clear by
saying: "even against the King of Hungary." The celebrated
Burgomaster of Vienna, Dr. Lueger, declared that Austria was
on the brink of an abyss, and burst out into the following
apostrophe : '' O Emperor, wilt thou become answerable to
history for allowing this ancient Austria, rich in honor and in
victory, to perish in such miserable fashion ? " The feeling in
Vienna is that, as things are at present, the Magyars enjoy 70
per cent of the power and pay 30 per cent of the cost.
Baron von Beck, long the confidential adviser of the Heir-
Apparent, the Archduke Franz Ferdinand, has accepted the
Premiership as successor of Prince Hohenlohe. He has formed
a cabinet, most of the members of which have seats in Parlia-
ment, and are not, as is usually the case, mere officials. This
gives it a greater degree of strength. What adds to this
strength is the fact that the leading nationalities, the conflicts
between which have often made the Austrian Reichsrath so
much like a bear-garden, have representatives among its mem-
bers. The leader of the German People's party, a member of
the German Progressive party, the leader of the Polish party,
as well as another Pole, the young Czech leader, and a young
Czech, together with a few officials, make up the list of its
members. Baron von Beck, in his first statement to the Reichs-
rath declared, amid the applause of the Chamber, that he was
opposed to the claim of fiscal independence made by Hungary,
unless and until a complete arrangement is made of the eco-
nomic arrangements between the two halves of the monarchy.
As the Emperor is believed to have privately conceded the
Hungarian demands, his difficulties have been increased, and
the outlook is quite uncertain.
The election of the Hungarian Parliament resulted in an
overwhelming victory for the Independence party, of which
. M. Kossuth is the leader. The Liberal party, so long in power,
has been formally disbanded. The former opposition is now
VOL. Lxxxiii. — 35
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546 Current Events [July,
supreme. M. Kossuth has a following of some 250; the Min-
ister of the Interior, Count Julius Andrassy, leads only 75 ;
while the Premier, Dr. Wekcrle, is, strange to say, merely an
ordinary member of the Andrassy party. After an absence of
thirteen months, due to the conflict with the Coalition, the
King went to Budapest to open the Parliament. While he was
received with the cheers and jubilation which the occasion de-
manded, yet there was an undertone of sadness, due, perhaps,
to uncertainty as to the future. For many questions are still
unsettled, the military demands of Hungary are only post-
poned. In his speech from the throne on the following day
great enthusiasm was excited by the announcement of guaran-
tees against the recurrence of an unconstitutional regime — the
King will no more resist the nation's wishes. Preparations
are being made for the universal suffrage which it is the main
object of this Parliament to bring into force. Whether the
coaflict with Austria on their economic relations, which has
supervened, will dash the roseate hopes of future peace is still
undetermined.
The result of the General Election
France. is seen in the following list of
Deputies. Radicals and Socialist
Radicals number 246 ; Republicans of the Left, 77 ; Dissident
Radicals, 7; Independent Socialists* 22; Unified Socialists, 53;
Progressives, 64; Royalists, Bonapartists, and members of the
Action Lib^ralc and Nationalists, 117. The old Bloc gains 56
members, for the most part Radicals and Socialist Radicals
The government majority will enable it to dispense with the
support of the Unified Socialists. It might be interesting but
would be difficult to explain the various political ideas of which
these numerous parties are the indication. / But one thing is
clear, and that is that the French electors acquiesce at least
in the separation of Church and State made by the recently
dissolved Assembly. For the first time for many long years
the Bishops of France have mfet together to take the situation
into consideration, and especially to discuss the question
whether the public worship associations can be accepted in
any shape or form. Their proceedings were in secret, but it
is rumored that the majority were in favor of acceptance as
the less of two evils.
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i9o6.] Current Events 547
The first work of the present ministry will be to deal with
the deficit in the Budget, amounting to some one hundred and
eighty millions of francs. That there should be such a deficit
shows how acute was the crisis last year, and how near France
was to war with Germany ; for the greater part of the money
was spent in strengthening the fortifications and making ready
for the expected conflict. Old age pensions, and the imposition
of an income tax, are among the proposals of the government.
The establishment of the equilibrium of the Budget constitutes
the main anxiety.
Yet another Cabinet has vanished
Italy. and its successor has appeared up-
on the scene. It is bard to find
reasons for the change, except in the desire which animates so
many members of the Italian Parliament to figure before the
public. Their tenure of office is so precarious that they can
hardly be said to wield any power. The late ministry was de-
feated upon a mere question of order. It considered it a
matter of importance that the proceedings of a Committee ap-
pointed to consider the purchase of certain railway lines should
be accelerated. This proposal the Chamber refused to accept,
and the government was defeated by 179 to 152. It at once
resigned, and after a short interval a new ministry has been
formed by Signor Giolitti, who is Prime Minister for the third
time. The railway question and the relief of the distress in
the South of Italy are the matters which urgently demand
attention. The Sonnino Government had prepared measures
for the settlement of these questions, and so satisfactory were
their proposals that they have been adopted by the new gov-
ernment. Dexterity in the manipulation of parliamentary groups
is the distinguishing note of the new Premier, and his cabinet
contains representatives of the various fractions which make
up the majority. He represents the triumph of opportunism
over principle ; the former Cabinet tried, it is said, to act in
just the opposite way, and could not live. The return of Sig-
nor Tittoni to the Foreign Office is, perhaps, the most satis-
factory result of the change.
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548 Current Events [July»
The attempt made upon the lives'
Spain. of the King and Queen of Spain
haSy of course, excited the horror
of the whole world, and raises the question what can be done
to extirpate such a brood of vipers as the anarchists have
proved themselves to be? It is easy enough to punish those
who are guilty of outrages; but what can be done to prevent
the existence of men holding such opinions, and ready to act
upon them with such recklessness ? The solution of this
problem involves, no doubt, an amelioration of the conditions
of human life. How this is to be brought about is a question
demanding the most earnest attention of the student as well
as of the practical man.
Whether the marriage of a member of the English Royal
House with the King of Spain will in any way affect the
position of Spain, or increase her influence among the Powers
of the world, is a question difficult to answer. There are some
who think that there are several signs of a revival of some
degree of that influence which long years ago the country
possessed throughout the world, that Spain is not one of the
decaying powers of which Lord Salisbury spoke. Of this hope-
fulness for the future the popularity of the King is the prin-
cipal cause, a popularity which has been increased by the re-
cent attempt upon his life and by the brave manner in which
he passed through the unlooked-for ordeal. The deep-rooted
dejection which has long kept Spain in the background is giv-
ing place among Spaniards to the prospects of better things.
The King's contagious activity, his genuine Liberalism, the
proofs he has given of an alert intelligence, his readiness to
cooperate with the Mediterranean powers, have served to lift
the load of a depression. Spain is said to be breathing freely
at last and to be looking forward to a future of progress.
Elections have taken place in
General. Belgium where, since 1884, the
Catholic party has been in power.
Liberals and Socialists joined their forces in the hope of de-
feating and driving them from office ; but without success. The
strength of the Catholic position is somewhat weakened ; but
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i9o6.] Current Events 549
the party still possesses a working- majority. Another of the
great engineering achievements which are the chief glory of
our age has been inaugurated by the President of the Swiss
Republic and the King of Italy. The Simplon Tunnel forms
another link to bind together the nations of Europe, and
is itself an indication of marvelous scientific skill and com-
mercial enterprise. In Servia the long- delayed step of dis-
missing the officers who were guilty of the atrocious murder
of King Alexander and Queen Draga has at last been taken.
It will be remembered that most of the powers withdrew their
representatives from Belgrade to indicate their condemnation
of the deed. All, however, have been content at this demon-
stration, and have renewed their relation with the Servian
government, with one exception, that of Great Britain. The
dismissal of the guilty officers will, it is hoped, overcome her
reluctance. ^The movement for the extension of the suffrage
has extended to Sweden and has caused a conflict between
the Upper and the Lower House of the Riksdag. The King
refused to dissolve the Second Cham^ber. The ministry con-
sequently resigned, and a Conservative government has been
formed. Denmark also has had a general election. There
seems to be almost as many parties in this small country as
fall to the lot of the larger nations. The government party is
placed in a minority by the election, but by receiving the sup-
port of parties the Moderates will retain power.
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flew Booh8«
This able volume,* by a writer
KEY TO THE WORLD'S whose name is not unknown to
PROGRESS. political economists, offers a theory
By Devas. q( modern progress and civilization
which interprets them by the his-
tory of the Catholic Church : *' The world record made intelligi-
ble by the Church record ; this is the indispensable and flexible
instrument of research, bringing deductive reasoning into agree-
ment with inductive, theory with fact, hypothesis with verifica-
tion ; this alone puts the relation of the natural and the super-
natural in a light that all can endure." To treat su6h a tre-
mendous subject exhaustively would demand a genius of the
first rank, and would absorb an industrious lifetime. Mr. Devas
modestly aims at a suggestive sketch in which some crucial
points and salient questions of the grand scheme are emphasized.
He takes Newman for his guide ; and draws upon such disciples
of the great Oratorian as Ward and Tyrrell. His familiarity
with a wide circle of English and Continental writers enables
him to treat his problem in the light of present-day thought
and modern experience. Unlike so many of our apologists, be
does not pretend to make all the dark places clear, nor to
straighten out all the crooked paths. He does not claim that
all the good has been on one side and all the evil on the
other. But he does strenuously insist that, as far as our dim
vision may penetrate, we can see that the progress of the
world depends on the permeation of life by the ideals and
doctrines of the Gospel. The chief part of the book — the sub-
ject in which the author is at his best — is devoted to a con-
sideration and explanation of what he calls the ten most strik-
ing Christian antinomies. These are: i. The Church appears in
opposition to intellectual civilization and yet to foster it; 2.
The Church appears in opposition to material civilization and
yet to foster it: 3: The Church represents a religion of sorrow
and yet of gladness, teaches a morality which is austere and
yet joyful; 4. The Church appears the opponent and yet the
support of the State, its rival and yet its ally; 5. The Church
• AT/y U the World's Progress : Being an Essay on Historical Logic, By Charles E. Devas,
New York : Longmans, Green & Co.
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 551
upholds the equality of men and yet the inequality of property
and power; 6. The Church is full of scandals and yet all holy;
7. The Church upholds and yet opposes religious freedom ard
liberty of conscience; 8. The Church is one and yet Christen-
dom has ever been divided; 9. The Church is ever the same
and yet is ever changing; 10. The Church is ever being defeated
and yet ever victorious. Here we have an examination of some
of the most popular commonplace arguments against the Church.
Mr. Devas treats them temperately, fairly, and, on the whole,
effectively, though the scope of his work obliges him, in some
instances, to content himself with suggesting the principles of
the solution, instead of giving a full answer. The copious ex-
tracts from Newman and others of his school, and the numer-
ous references to a wide range of notable authors, with which
Mr. Devas' pages abound, render the book a valuable key to
a wide course of useful historical study. He deserves thanks
for a book which will contribute to fortifying the Christian
apologist.
The celebration of which this vol-
THE JEWS IN AMERICA, ume* is a record took place, it
will be remembered, last year in
various centres throughout the country. The event commem-
orated was the grant made, in 1665, in response to the peti-
tion of some Portuguese Jews, by the Dutch West India Com-
pany* giving permission for the settlement of Jews in New
Netherland. This event might well be celebrated with fervent
gratitude by the children of Israel; for it was the first step in
their passage out of their third house of bondage towards their
modern land of promise, in which they enjoy, not merely milk
and honey, but the inestimably more precious blessings of reli-
gious freedom and complete political equality. Under the
strain of adversity and persecution the Jews have displayed a
superb vitality, and unflinching loyalty to their national ideals.
They are now to be subjected to the far more crucial trial of
liberty and prosperity — and it is of ancient record that when
Israel waxed fat he was prone to turn towards strange gods.
The various addresses delivered in New York, Boston, and
elsewhere, and collected in this volume, from eminent non-
Jewish Americans, testify handsomely to the value of the con-
• The Two Hundred and Fiftieth Anniversary of Jewish Settlement in America, Published
by the Executive Committee. New York : The New York Co-operative Societyj
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552 New Books ' [July,
tribution which the Jew has made to American progress. If
we do not find any representative Catholic nanies in the list
of speakers, their absence is sufficiently accounted for by the
fact that the exercises had a quasi-religious character. No sec-
tion of their fellow-citizens surpass Catholics in admiration for
the good qualities of citizenship exhibited by the Jews of
America, and in their satisfaction at the disappearance of those
disabilities under which the ancient race so long labored. The
greeting of American Catholics to them could not be more
happily and truthfully expressed than by borrowing the words
with which Mr. Grover Cleveland concluded his address to the
meeting in Carnegie Hall, New York: "In the spirit of true
Americanism, let us all rejoice in the good which the settlement
we commemorate has brought to the nation in which we all
find safety and protection; and, uninterrupted by differences in
religious faith, let us, under the guidance of the genius of
toleration and equality, consecrate ourselves more fully than
ever to united and devoted labor in the field of our common
nation's advancement and exaltation."
The purpose of this excellent es-
FORTIFYING THE LAYMAN, say • is to point out and suggest
By Fr. Hull. some antidote for the dangerous
influences which confront the Cath-
olic laymen who come in contact with the agnostic, sceptical
spirit of the day through magazines, the daily newspaper, gene-
ral literature, and through the society into which their avo-
cations throw them. Father Hull, whose wide experience of
men and cities qualifies him to handle his subject in sound,
practical fashion, addresses himself to the problem as it poses
itself in England and some English colonies. But, as far
as the question under consideration is concerned, conditions
throughout the English-speaking world are, in the main, uni-
form. His analysis of the situation holds good for this coun-
try ; and the means which he recommends to counteract the
evil are as appropriate here as elsewhere. He discusses the
'' leakage *' question, its causes and remedies. He finds that
much of the religious indifference and ultimate loss of faith
among laymen is due, not to the growth of any positive anti-
Catholic convictions, but to a mental atrophy due largely to
^ Fortifying iht Layman, By Ernest R. Hull, S.J. St. Louis: B. Herder.
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 553
the failure of the layman's directors to provide him with solid
literature. A final chapter on the training of the young is
deserving of the careful study of any one who is charged with
the grave responsibility of equipping Catholic youth to meet
the dangers which will afterwards beset them in the intellec-
tual world.
A commentary on the Apocalypse
THE APOCALYPSE. must be either scientific or ridicu-
By J. J. Elgar. lous. The nature of the mysteri-
ous book which closes our canon
is such as to give boundless opportunity for fantastic conjec-
ture and superstitious extravagances, if the commentator is not
restrained by sound, critical scholarship. We regret that the
work before us* is not scientific. The author lets fly into a
mass of grotesque interpretations which are utterly destitute of
objective value. The battle of Chalons, he says, is prefigured
in the Apocalypse ; the ravages of Alaric are there foretold ;
so, too, the heresies of Arius and Luther. In fact the bind-
ing of Satan for a thousand years, after which he will return
to earth again, is explained to us as meaning the chaining of
the Evil One from the beginning of the sixth till the begin-
ning of the sixteenth century, at which time the Prince of
Darkness issued forth once more to carry on the work of the
Reformation. The question as to who is responsible for the
evil deeds that were wrought during that millenium of cap-
tivity would probably be frowned on by our author as a temer-
ity. The "four living creatures" are thus interpreted: "The
four living creatures are commonly taken to be the four Gos-
pels, typified by the four Evangelists, who are symbolized
by the lion, the calf, the man, and the eagle. St. Mark is
compared to a lion, because his book begins with the preach-
ing of John the Baptist, which was like the roaring of a lion.
St. Luke is likened to a calf, because his Gospel begins with
the priesthood, which has a calf for its emblem. St. Matthew
has the face, as it were, of a man, because his Gospel begins
with the manhood of Christ. ... St. John, like an eagle,
soars aloft." This book is of no service to the clergy, nor is
it of the kind adapted to fortify the layman. One is almost
surprised to find that it bears the imprimatur of Westminster.
* The Apocalypse : The Anti-Ckrisi and the End. By J. J. Elgar. New York : Benziger
Brothers.
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The views of Professor Pflcidcrer,
CHRISTIAN ORIGINS. of the University of Berlin, have
By Pfleiderer. long been known to students of
Scripture and early Church his-
tory, and now are put forth in a popular summary,* which
will doubtless convey them to the multitudinous ** roan in the
street." Christian Origins will be to Pfleidcrer's fame what
The Essence of Christianity was to Harnack's ; it will introduce
one of the most radical and destructive German critics into
the reading of the ordinary man. Few who call themselves
Christians are so deadly in their attack on the traditional
views of Christ and early Christianity as Pfleiderer. To him
Christ is a child of his time, with all the limitations imposed
by the superstitious and apocalypse-loving Judaism of that
day ; the asceticism of the Gospel has its source in the wild
Messianic expectations, which had prevailed since the time of
Daniel ; the teachings as to the danger of wealth, the bless-
ings of poverty, and the contempt of the world, sprang from
a mind by which all earthly things were viewed as about to
perish in a terrible cosmic catastrophe. St. Paul is regarded
as decisively influenced by the mysteries of Mithra and the
worship of Adonis; even the earliest Gospel (St. Mark's) is
built on an apologetic plan ; and as for the organized hier-
archy of the Church, it came into existence under the pressure
of Gnostic speculation. These are some of the conclusions of
this revolutionary book. They are reinforced by great learn-
ing, they are grouped together in masterly array, and they
are stated with a positiveness and assurance which will cause
untrained minds to mistake conjecture for ascertained fact, and
to identify hypothesis with demonstrated history.
One ol the most remarkable features of the book is its dis-
regard of the diiSculties which stand in the way of its thesis.
The hallucination theory of the appearances of the risen Christ
is stated as confidently as though it were a settled thing among
scholars that no other explanation is admissible; whereas, in
point of fact, an insuperable objection to such a theory
rises straight out of the words of our earliest written witness,
St. Paul. Again, it is calmly affirmed that Christ was a de-
luded, though highly spiritual, offspring of a debased Judaism,
* Christian Origins. By Otto Pfleiderer. Translated by D. A. Hucbsch. Ne>v York:
B. W. Huebsch.
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 555
whose religion would never have amounted to anything more
than a Hebrew sect but for the genius of Paul. This is an
outrage on history. It was not to Paul that the early success
of Christianity was due. Indeed, as Pfleiderer himself points
out, St. Paul's work and word divided the infant Church into
parties which threatened the whole movement with disaster.
If there is anything clear in human history, it is that the
world was won to the Gospel singly and solely by the per-
sonal power, the spiritual beauty, and the heavenly promises
of Jesus. And no such result could ever have taken place in
that Graeco- Roman world, if Christianity had been merely the
re-affirmation of Jewish apocalypse, however ardently cham-
pioned by the great convert of Tarsus.
It is precisely here, in the misapprehension of the miracu-
lous personal power of Christ, that this book falls short. A
writer who misses this fundamental and essential point is des-
titute of the psychological insight and historical imagination
necessary to an historian of Christian origins. This is the
ground on which the genius of M. Loisy shows its most splen-
did side, and that of Herr Pfleiderer its most fatal weakness.
Observations of similar import we might make on this author's
theory as to the Lord's Supper, Baptism, and the Episcopate ;
but perhaps we have said enough to indicate that the book
before us, brilliant though it is, needs to be corrected and re-
strained in its most important positions before it can be taken
as a scientifically reliable narrative of the origins of the Chris-
tian faith.
Sympathy, both of intellect and of
NEWMAN. heart, long and exhaustive study
By Bremond. of sources, keen powers of analy-
sis, candor, and a finished style —
such are some of the qualifications of Father Bremond for the
function of interpreting Newman. But, indeed, he is already
too well known as a contributor to Newmaniana to make nec-
essary any introduction of his latest work,* a study which we
do not hesitate to declare very important for all who desire
to penetrate into the depths of the great Oratorian's mentality
and character.
The volume is what its title affirms, a psychological biog-
• Newman : Rssai dt Biographit Psyckologiqut, Par Henri Bremond. Paris : Librairie
Bloud. NewwMn: MMUations et Prieres Traduites par Marie- A ^nh Pirate, Avec une 4tude sur
la piiti de Newman, Par Henri Bremond. Paris: Librairie Lecoffre.
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556 NEW Books [July.
raphy. It undertakes to describe Newman's traits — emotional,
intellectual, religious — by analysis of the various situations oi
his life, and his reaction to influences of every description,
and by constant reference to the passages of his writings in
which he reveals the inner life of his soul. The volume is so
well filled with reference to Newman's own works, and to books
which have been written about him, that it might indeed be
regarded as a very satisfactory hand-book for the student.
In great measure the present volume is taken up with
the consideration of criticisms to which Newman has been
subjected, notably those of Dr. Abbott, whose Anglican Career
of Cardinal Newman sums up pretty much all that can be said
in the Cardinal's disfavor. The reader of Father Bremond's
pages will not fail to be impressed with a deep sense of the au-
thor's honesty and objectivity in considering these criticisms.
Reverent and affectionate, he is at the same time thorough and
discriminating in the discussion of his subject. He takes cog-
nizance of all that has been written or said on the other side,
goes into each question patiently and fairly, and readily allows
that in many instances his hero falls short of perfection.
Father Bremond expresses very great regret that the cor-
respondence of Newman subsequent to 1845 has never been
given to the world. It is an opep secret that the great con-
vert suffered from grave misunderstandings after his entrance
into the Church, and Father Bremond alludes to him at this
period as " the suspect." The withholding of his correspond-
ence from the public has had the effect, we are told, of con-
vincing people that it contains frightful secrets and confessions
of bitter regret ; therefore, the sooner his letters are published
the better. '' I am thrice convinced that to honest men they
will give more edification than anything else. . . • Seekers
of scandal have nothing to hope for from these letters of New-
man."
The chapter to which the rest of the book leads up is that
devoted to Newman's inner, religious life. Suffice it to say
that the reader will find it full of interest. In a word, the
present volume is no mere eulogy, but a serious attempt to
write history; and no admirer of Newman can afford to be
ignorant or ignore its contents.
The second volume named above consists of a translation
of the well-known book of meditations and devotions by Car-
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 557
dinal Newman, published posthumously. It is prefaced with
an introduction by Father Bremond which is really a study
of the characteristics manifested in the various devotional writ-
ings of Newman.
Four years ago (February, 1902),
BOOKS ON PRATER. The Catholic World welcomed
By Fr. Poulain. Father Poulain's volume on mys-
tical theology as the work of a
man well fitted by temper and training to give helpful instruc-
tion on an important and interesting subject, which is at the
same time intricate and to most persons very obscure. Since
that date the author has been prosecuting his studies along
the same line and adding to the value of his book by incor-
porating in a new edition the results of reading, reflection,
experience, and investigation. He now presents to the world
a fifth edition of his Opus Magnum^* nearly double the size
of the first, enlarged and bettered in every sense, and surely
deserving of a place in all libraries of ascetical literature. It
would be difficult to think of a field which Father Poulain has
neglected in his search for information. His volume is, as his
countrymen are accustomed to say, fort bien documente. As a
guide to the teaching of the Catholic masters in the field of
higher spiritual experiences, his book is more useful to the
student than any other we could name. His list of more than
one hundred and fifty authors at the end is no mere cata-
logue, but a seriously constructed bibliography, and his pages
contain ample evidence that he knows what the books of these
authors contain. Even the reader uninterested in the subject
of mysticism or unsympathetic with the tone of the author
could not but admit that, as an exposition of Catholic tradi
tions, the present work is worthy of high commendation.
The author has had the happy thought of publishing apart,
under the title of Oraison de Simplicite^ extracts from the sec-
ond and fifteenth chapters of his treatise, which will serve to
enlighten and 'encourage souls in their progress toward de-
grees of prayer beyond meditation.
It seems scarcely worth the mention ; but we note that in
his comment on Father Faber (p. 39), the author seems to
make more of the English writer's statement of the connec-
♦Z?« Graces d' Oraison, Traiti dt Thiologie Mystique. Par le R. P. Poulain, SJ. se
Edition. Paris: Retaux. 1906. L* Oraison de Simplicity. La Premiere Nuit de Saint Jean de
h Croix. Par le R. P. Poulain, S.J. Paris : Retaux. 1906.
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558 NEW BOOKS [July,
tion between the Sulpitian method of prayer and the ancient
fathers than the text really justifies. Father Faber merely
meant, it would seem, that by way of contrast with the Igna-
tian method, and in a negative way, so to speak, the less for-
mal and more effective Sulpitian prayer was less removed from
the simple and unmethodical usage of primitive times than the
method which has been popularized under the name of St.
Ignatius.
This is an entertaining story.* It
HEARTS AND CREEDS, gives us a glimpse of the various
By A. C. Ray. elements that render society in
Quebec unique on the North Amer-
ican Continent. The old world dignity and courtesy which
traces its lineage back to what was best in the ancien regime,
in the days of Le Grand Monarque^ comes in contact with Eng-
lish assumption of supremacy in things social and politicaL
And the opposition of these two elements is aggravated by the
antagonism of religions. The hero, Am^d^e Leduc, a worthy
representative of an old, honorable, French family, marries Ar-
line Lord, a Protestant girl, who takes him because, high-spir-
ited and wilful as she is, her family resent her friendliness
towards the rising young Catholic politician. But she soon
begins to make him miserable by her contempt for the Catho-
lic society into which she is thrown. Then her ambition is
awakened by a Parisian adventurer, the villian of the piece,
who persuades her to establish a salon that shall be a power
in the political world. In carrying out this scheme she man-
ages almost to wreck her husband's prospects, and completely,
for a time, to wreck her and his happiness. Although the
writer's standpoint is the Protestant side, she does justice to
Catholic influences, and shows herself iamiliar with Catholic
life. The only slip that she has made is to assume that the
Church permits a non-Catholic to become a godfather in bap-
tism.
This excellent little pamphlet,t of
CHAPTERS ON MARRIAGE, which the worth is out of all pro-
By Fr. Martin. portion to the size, deserves un-
qualified commendation ; it ought
to be in the hands of every young girl and young man who
* Hearts and Creeds. By Anna Chapin Ray. Boston : Little, Brown & Co.
t Cana; or. Little Chapters on Courtship, Marriage, Home, By Charles Alfred Martio.
of the Ohio Apostolate. St. Louis ; B. Herder.
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i9o6.] NEW Books 559
expect to marry, or who ought to look forward to that state.
With good sense, good taste, delicacy, and reverence, the au-
thor discusses the meaning of marriage, the ideals that the
young man, or the young woman, should have with regard to
the married life; and the conduct which, before and after, is
required to realize and preserve conjugal and family happiness.
The sacramental character of marriage, the beneficent results
of this exaltation of the mere civil contract, the reasons for
the various regulations with which the Church safeguards the
celebration of marriage, are briefly but clearly explained. The
writer, avoiding declamation and anathema, talks in a' friendly,
sympathetic, fatherly tone that cannot fail to capture the trust
and confidence of the reader. In a future edition the proof*
reader might be more alert ; for in this one he has permitted
the type-setter to take liberties with the names of De Tocque-
ville, John Stuart Mill, and Sir Thomas More.
The name of Charles de Condren
THE SACRIFICE OF THE stands worthil)j among the roll of
^-^SS. saintly priests and eminent eccle-
siastics which France gave to the
Church in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. As an
epigrammatic estimate of his character, the saying of St. Jane
Frances de Chantal is frequently quoted: "It seemed to me
that God had given our blessed father (St. Francis of Sales)
to teach men, but that he made Pere de Condren fit to teach
angels." On the death of Cardinal de Berulle, in 1629, he
was appointed Superior- General of the Congregation of tne
Oratory, which office, notwithstanding his repeated efTorls to
have his resignation accepted, he held till his death in i64i^«
Great as was the influence which, during his day, he wielded
in the realm of souls through this position, it is probable that
it sinks into insignificance, when compared with the far-reach-
ing results of his personal relations with one of his friends;
he was the spiritual father and trusted director of M. Olier,
the founder of the College of St. Sulpice. He was not a
voluminous writer; but his treatise entitled Uldee du Sacer^
doce de Jesus Christ is worth many volumes, and ranks as
one of the classics of spirituality. It is now placed at the
disposal of English readers in an excellent translation.*
• TJu Eternal Sacrijife. By Charles de Condren, Superior-General of the Oratory of
Jesus. Translated from the French by A. J. Monteith. St. Louis: B. Herder.
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56o NEW BOOKS [July,
It is not rash to say that the great majority of the laity,
through want of knowledge, miss a great deal of the spiritual
edification and nourishment that they ought to derive from a
thorough understanding of the symbolism expressed in the rites,
formulae, and sacred vestments of the Mass. How few even of
our better educated classes could, if occasion arose — and such
occasions do arise — give an inquiring non-Catholic such an
explanation of these matters as would remove from his
mind the too-prevalent impression that the chief action of
Catholic worship is sui rounded with a quantity of meaning-
less ceremonial that convicts Catholicism of reducing worship
to mechanical externalism. Although there exist many
volumes providing adequate instruction- on this subject, we
think that none of them are so suitable for the laity as the
one which is now furnished by the indefatigable pen of Father
Arthur Divine.* While it does not ignore the devotional
side, it is primarily explanatory, and as its sub-title indicates,
treats its subject from the historical, as well as from the
liturgical and exegetical point of view. The author has taken
pains to consult and follow recognized authorities in each
department, and without entering into minutious detail, or
unimportant controversies, gives ample information on every
point connected with the actual celebration of the Holy Sacri-
fice. The arrangement is simple, the language plain and
clear. The highest commendation that could be given to a
popular work of this kind is to say that it ought to be on the
book-shelf of every Catholic home. But the praise has been
lavished so recklessly on undeserving productions, that it has
almost lost its value. In this instance, however, it can be
conscientiously awarded. We must congratuli^te the author on
having produced, probably with much less labor, a work in-
comparably more useful than his Ascetical Theology.
Were this volume f in English, it would be a suitable sequel,
or complement, to the work of Father Devine. It is a doc-
trinal and devotional treatise on the Holy Sacrifice. The book
is suitable for meditation and spiritual reading, either public
or private. Less profound and mystical than the treatise of
Father de Condren, it yet recalls it in many pages. Recom-
• The Ordinary of the Mass Historically, Lituriically, and ExegeticaUy Esplaintd, By
Rev. Arthur Devine, Passionist. New York : Benziger Brothers.
t La Doctrine de la Sainte Messe Exposie aux Fiddles, Par L'AbW^ Gremault. Paris :
•\x.
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 561
mended by the most flattering approbations of several French
bishops, it will, we trust, secure a wide circulation among
French Catholics, and contribute its share to that revivification
of Faith which so many Frenchmen, whose judgment deserves
confidence, prognosticate as the result of the new phase upon
ivhich the Church is entering in France.
The purport of this latest work of
LEX CREDENDI. Father Tyrrell, • the appearance
By Tyrrell. of which has been awaited with
keen curiosity, is set forth by the
author in the following passages, which are a summary of a
more detailed explanation contained in the Preface. Speaking
of his former volume he says : *' I tried to show that the Creed
was primarily a Lex Orandi — a law of prayer, and of the
spiritual life." "In this volume,** he continues, "I pursue
much the same theme, strengthening some of the positions
taken up in Lex Orandi^ criticizing and establishing some of
its underlying assumptions, defending myself against certain
misunderstandings due to the fact that in addressing myself
largely to * Pragmatists ' I seemed to some — in spite of fairly
explicit precautions — to accept their doctrines far more than I
do. But as I called the former book Lex Orandi^ because it
dealt with the Creed under its aspect of a rule of prayer, so I
may call this book Lex Credendi^ for in substance it is a treat-
ment of the Lord's Prayer viewed as the rule and criterion of
pure doctrine — as the living expression of that Christian spirit
whereof faith in God and his kingdom, together with hope and
charity, is a constituent factor. As no single article of faith
is rightly intelligible torn apart from the living organism of
truth which it helps to constitute, so neither is faith itself
fully intelligible as considered apart from hope and charity, its
correlatives, which, together with it, constitute one simple and
really indivisible life of the spirit. Our grasp on faith is simply
included in our grasp on that life in its totality — in our grasp
on God, who is at once the object of our faith, hope, and love.''
The book consists of two parts'. The first is a treatise on
the Spirit of Christ. The author shows that the spirit of
Christ, as portrayed in the Gospels, is free from every blem-
** Lex Credendi, A Sequel to Lex Omndi. By George Tjrrrell. New York: Longmans,
Green & Co.
VOL. LXXXIII.^36
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562 NEW BOOKS [July,
ish of " Sentimentality/' " Mysticality," or " Practicality," yet,
in its simplicity, embracing and overpassing all the excellences
which these tendencies exaggerate and violently tear asunder,
Christ is not light alone, nor is he love alone. He does not
appeal exclusively to either the head or the heart, but to
both together. "All idea of priority, or principality, or true
separableness among these elements of the spirit-life must be
abandoned, if we are to read the Gospels aright, and to grasp
the conception of perfect manhood there presented to us. If
we would arrive at such a conception, we cannot do better than
try to apprehend the spirit of Christ just as it breathes it-
self forth in that prayer whose words he has adopted, bat
whose sense and inspiration (of which they are the vehicle)
are all his own, and can only be determined in the light of all
his teaching and action." Accordingly, Father Tyrrell proceeds,
in the Second Part, to a profound analysis of the spiritual and
moral content of each petition of the prayer. His guiding
principle is " to enter into the spirit of that prayer as being
the most authentic and deliberate self-utterance of the spirit
of Christ; as giving us a key to the Gospels, and a revelation
of the governing intuitions, affections, and aims of Christ's life
upon earth; and as, therefore, defining for us that spirit-life
whose development is a test of doctrinal truth, just because
doctrine is shaped by its exigencies and is but a statement of
intellectual implications."
One cannot fail to notice that the author has been at pains
to anticipate and obviate the occurrence of misinterpretations
like those to which, he complains, his previous work has given
rise. Whether or not he will be successful depends less upon
prudential cautions on his part, than on the attitude of mind
which the reader or critic will bring to the study of it.
Will Lex Credendi meet with impartial consideration on its
merits ? Notwithstanding rumors to the contrary, that have
been disseminated by those who love dearly an ecclesiastical
scandal, we have no doubt that the book will be judged on
its merits. Some persons, who accept traditional calumnies
as historical axioms, pretend that Father Tyrrell's former con*
frires are sure to inaugurate against him a campaign of dis-
paragement; that, so say the busybodies, all the influence and
t he enjoyed will now be ascribed, by his foes, ex-
to the letters which he had the right to affix to his
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 563
name ; with their disappearance he will soon be lost among
the nobodies; and that a world of insinuation will be conveyed
by a deprecatory shrug» or by an ostentatious display of chari-
table reticence.
Sufficient answer to these malevolent prophets is the review
of Lex Credendi publrshed in the May nun.bcr of the oigan of
the English Jesuits. This handsome tribute closes with the
following passage, as admirable for the spirit, as for the critical
acumen which it displays: "We do not necessarily identify
ourselves with the writer's theological speculations, often vaguely
outlined rather than plainly expressed, and, consequently, liable
to be misinterpreted in very diverse senses, according to the
preconceived ideas of his critics, we find this volume an alto-
gether worthy continuation of previous work published with
full theological censorship and ecclesiastical saocticn. Father
Tyrrell looks forward rather than backwards He writes for
the coming generation, whose minds can hardly fail to be
storm-tost by the daring theological discussiors that new sur-
round us on every side, rather than for the faithful of earlier
days, reposing securely in Peter's bark during a time of favor-
ing breezes and unruffled waters. But of his zeal for what is
highest and what is truest we have no doubt. His book, we
are satisfied, is calculated to do far more good than harm, and
}n wishing that it may meet with the appreciation that it de-
serves, we are happy in the knowledge that any success the
work may achieve will assuredly not be a succh de scandale.**
The June number of The Lamp, published at Garrison, N.
Y., is a noteworthy number, in that it is devoted exclusively
to an exposition and defence of the primacy, both of honor
and of jurisdiction, of St. Peter and his successors, the Bishops
of Rome. It selects evidences from the writers of every cen-
tury, from the Acts and the Gospels, and gives special atten-
tion to England and the Holy See. The number contains a
very useful and important summary for one who would speak
or write in defence of the Holy See.
Dr. Barry's article, entitled " Dante and the Spirit of Poe-
try," which appeared in the May Catholic World, was
originally delivered as an address before the Literary Society
of Wolverhampton, England, of which Dr. Barry is President.
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yoteion petiobicals.
The Tablet (12 May): Notes the assembly of 50,000 Catholics
at Albert Hall for discussion of the Education Bill.
Speeches were delivered by six life-long Liberals in de-
nunciation of the manifold iniquities of the Bill. '' Alto-
gether the meeting, in its numbers and enthusiasm, in
the intensity and energy of the convictions it represented,
and in the sum of the dynamic and spiritual forces it gave
expression to, stands without parallel in the annals of
English Catholicism.*' Recalls a passage from Pallavi*
cino's history of the Tridentine council, in which the
Cardinal, in giving a preliminary account of the reli-
gious revolution, says that the chief answer put forth
against Luther might have been less bitter, and he allows
that it may be that Luther's opponents, by declaring hini
a heretic before the time, made him to become one.
(19 May): Summarizes the amendments proposed by
Catholics regarding the Education Bill. Rev. Herbert
Thurston, S.J., in replying to a statement made by the
Bishop of London, shows what the Catholics have done in
the cause of education. In a letter to the editor W. H.
Kent, O.S.C., objects to the reference that indicates that
Jansen was a disloyal member of the Church. Further-
more Fr. Kent fails to see any trace of Christian charity
in the treatment meted out by a Roman prelate to the
writers whose work is, as we are told, to be censured in
a forthcoming Syllabus.
(26 May) : The Education Bill is the occasion of a
strong debate in Parliament. A few amendments were
made whose benefit to Catholic and Protestant schools
alike was of a doubtful kind. Rev. George Angus re-
plies to a friend, to whom the perusal of his article en-
titled " Unreality " was painful. The writer of Liter-
ary Notes comments upon a quotation taken from THE
Catholic World concerning John Stuart Mill's rela-
tion to the present condition of women in England.
The recent demonstration on the part of women suffra-
' '-s was, he thinks, a fitting commemoration of the first
redth anniversary of the birth of John Stuart Mill.
A.t the annual meeting of the Catholic Union pro-
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I906.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS $6$
tests were registered against the Primary Educational
Bill now before Parliament. Prominent among those
who spoke were the Duke of Norfolk, Rev. Dr. William
Barry, Mr. W. S. Lilly, and Mr. Wilfrid Ward The
Roman correspondent quotes Pius X. as sayirg that he
believed that women should not vote. The " News
from France " contains a letter addressed by Cardinal
Gibbons, in the name of the American hierarchy, to
the Bishops of France.
(2 June) : Offers a tribute to the new Queen of Spain.
The first clause of the Educational Bill has been
passed. This means that schools that were formerly
Catholic "will pass to the local authority, who may
appoint Protestant teachers who may give instruction
in the municipal religion every morning, while on two
days in the week Catholic amateurs — but never the
teachers — may give religious lessons to the Catholic
children." Literary Notes contains a reply to Dr.
Hinsley who, in a letter in The Tablet of May 26, criti-
cises the literary reviewer for his defence of some "mod-
ern philosophers and others." The Catholic opposi-
tion to the Educational Bill continues in strength and
volume. News from Rome informs us that on May
27 sixteen Carmelite nuns were solemnly declared blessed;
also that the Pope has quite recovered from his attack
of sickness.
The Month : Considers, a propos of " Mr. Birrell's Education
Bill," the extent to which the supporters of the Bill
have grasped the realities of the situation; and indicates
how the Bill may be amended into a form which will
leave at least some reliable guarantee for the continuance
of Catholic schools. It would seem clear that if to
procure peace is the object in view, not the present Bill
but a Bill developing the existing system on its own
lines is what the country needs. Catholics, though the
Bill provides for them, fear bigotry and prejudice, job-
bery and undue parsimony on the part of local author-
ities; hence arises the necessity of amending the Bill.
Makes a plea, on behalf of the elementary schools,
for "Fair Play and Freedom." The Catholics, in order
to safeguard the teaching, tone, and atmosphere of their
schools, want a fair share of the educational rates and
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S66 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [July,
taxes for the maintenance of their own schools. The
freedom Catholics demand is the liberty to manage their
own schools, subject, of course, to reasonable tests of
efficiency. The teacher not only should be a Catholic,
but should be, and should be known to be, immediately
responsible to Catholic managers, who represent the
authority of the Church. R. H. Benson describes the
impressions produced by the ceremonies of Holy Week.
Recounts many curious legends regarding "St.
Elmo's Fire," which is the name given to certain ghost-
ly lights that are seen about the tops of masts and a
ship's spars in the heavy atmosphere preceding a storm,
or towards its close.
The National Review (June) : The Episodes of the Month in-
clude a lengthy discussion of Bismarck, and the present
policy of the German Empire, occasioned by the publi-
cation of The Life of Lord Granville ; also a review of
the crisis at Tabah, and the present status of the Educa-
tion Bill. " Mr. Chamberlain has pointed out in his ad-
mirable speeches, which show that he understands the
British people as thoroughly as M. Clemenceau under-
stands the French people, this Bill will perish, not be-
cause it offends this denomination or that d.enominatiop,
but simply because it is a rank injustice which outrages
all.lovers of fair play." -" The Military Advantages of
an Alliance with England " are set forth by A French
Officer; and the Bishop of Manchester in "The Educa-
tion Bill " writes : " What, then, is the main principle of
the Bill? The principle is contained in two maxims:
the first being, that there must be absolute public con-
trol of all public elementary schools; and the second,
that teachers being civil servants must not be subjected
to religious tests any more than other servants of the
State." In "The Native Crisis in Natal," by F. S.
Tatham, is a protest against the action of the Imperial
Government, which all but neutralized the action of the
Colonial Government of Natal in putting down the up-
rising of the blacks. " It is of the first importance,"
says the writer, "that the white man's rule be established
and maintained with unfaltering hand." "There are
abundant evidences to show," he continues, ' " that the
chief factor of unrest among the blacks is a semi-religi-
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I906.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS $6;
ous body, affiliated to the negro Church of America, and
called ^The African Methodist Episcopal Church.' An
energetic element of American negroes has been im-
ported, with the distinct and definite aim of expelling
the white man and building up an omnipotent black re-
public in South Africa. There is a limit to what the
whites of Natal will endure from the Imperial Govern-
ment, from whom they naturally expect both support
and sympathy. That limit has been perilously approached
during the last few weeks." In ''The Future of Bel-
gium " Emile Vandervelde maintains that Belgium's best
safeguard, at present, is her entente cordiale with Great
Britain. But with Authority declining, and Democracy
increasing in Europe, she may yet choose her own in-
dependent destiny. ^John Milne writes on " Earth-
quakes." He concludes: ''An earthquake in London
would, however, be dangerous and expensive, but it
would aho be instructive, give work for the unemployed,
and rouse feelings of sympathy between neighbors.
London and other towns in this country have heard
churchbells ring without the aid of man, and great stones
have fallen from steeples on more than one occasion."
"A Rejoinder," by Charles Lisfer, on "The Value
of a Public School Education," is also an apology for
Eton. Conscientious Objector writes on some of the
short-comings of Mr. George Wyndham. "An impres-
sion has been generally created that he, Wyndham, is
apt to treat his responsibilities lightly and to play with
words." " American Affairs " are reviewed by A.
Maurice Low. "England's Position in Colonial Mar-
kets " is treated by J. Holt Schooling. " Latin as an
Intellectual Force in Civilization," by Professor Sonncn-
schein, is a glowing tribute to the influence of Rome.
Le Correspondant (lo May): A. de Lapparent describes the
San Francisco disaster, and at the same time gives some
interesting data regarding earthquakes. From the ob-
servation of J. Milne, made under the auspices of the
British Association for the Advancement of Science, the
conclusion is reached that California is, on account of
its topography, especially predestined to earthquakes.
In an article entitled " The Count Paul Stroganov,"
De Lanzac de Laborie reviews the life and works of that
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$68 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [July,
celebrated Russian reformer who was a favorite of Alex-
ander I.
(25 May) : Francis Mury describes the steps that are
being taken in China to establish some sort of a politi-
cal constitution. At the bottom of the movement are
the trade Corporations, to which the Chinese belong
body and soul. These Corporations are very powerful ;
they rule the economic and at times the political inter-
ests of China. It is in the interests of this movement
that the high Chinese functionaries are at present visit-
ing the countries of Europe and inspecting their in-
stitutions. In the " Revolutionary Peril " Henri de
Naussanne discusses the moral and material conditions
of the crisis between organized society on the one hand
and the Anarchists, Socialists, etc., on the other.
La Quinzaine (16 May): In a recent brochure, entitled Solu-
Hon Liberatrice^ M. G. Aubray advocated an organiza-
tion of free worship by private or public reunions. Cult
or parish associations bad no place in his scheme. M.
A. Hahn criticises this pamphlet, and claims that its
author does not distinguish that which actually is the
law from that which might be if the primary intentions
were carried oCit, or from that which might be promul-
gated under a sectarian majority. A. Ducrocq reviews
at length the life and novels of Robert H. Benson.
The events leading up to the Council of Algiers from
the time of William II.'s visit to Tangiers, in 1905, as
well as the decision reached by the Council, are related
by Henry de Montardy.
(i June): L. Flandrin sketches the French Salons of
the present year; the Beaux-Arts^ and the Artistes Fran-
fais^ noting the death of those artists who have died in
the past ten years, Puvis de Chavannes, Delaunay, Fran-
9ais, Cazin, Henner, Bouguereau, Carriere. A. Prat
gives a sketch of Eugenie de Guerin's Journal and Let-
tres. G. Stenger depicts the Bourbons up to the year
1815. P. Archambault says that European civiliza-
tion is finally turned toward a democratic foim, and the
Church is the greatest, perhaps the only, force capable
of regulating and controlling its organization. Hence
" Catholic democracy ** is the need of the hour.
La Democratie Chretienne (8 May) : Contains a short article on
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i9o6.] FOREIGN Periodicals 569
the Apostolic Mission House at Washington. The writer
describes the work done at the college and gives us a
few instances of the success of priests who have com-
pleted their course there and are now in the field of
active missions. In conclusion the author prays that
France may soon have such an institution without which,
at the present time, the body of the French clergy is
incomplete.
£tudes (5 May): Antoine Malvy writes of the efforts of the
Russian prelates for reform in the Church of Russia.
He also suggests a course of action approved of by the
archbishop of Finland, one who is well able to speak
on Russian affairs. A. d'Ales contributes an histori-
cal sketch of St. Hippolytus. This article treats chiefly
of the person and work of the saint, and of the literary
and hagiographical tradition concerning him. The ques-
tion about the Philosophumena is left for future treat-
ment. The value of physical theories is discussed by
Pierre de Vregille.
Revue du Clerge Frangais (15 May): P. Gayraud writes that
the administration of Church properties provided for in
the Law of Separation can be tolerated by the Holy
See, as a similar law was tolerated before. P. Vigo-
roux directs attention to the new interest manifested in
liturgical studies and sketches the development of the
liturgy of the Mass P. Paries discusses a case of
conscience : under what circumstances a teacher can
read, or favorably review, books whifch have been for-
mally condemned by the Church. F. Dubois writes
at length concerning the problems presented by Bre-
mond's Newman, Psychologie de la foi, and says: "To
pretend that the Newman theories do not tend to dis-
place the viewpoint and alter the prospective of apolo-
getics would be to fly in the face of evidence; more-
over, it seems impossible to deny that this change is
an advance not a retreat. P. Ermoni mentions a
study by P. Delehaye on '* St. Expedit.'' The Savant
Bollandist is more radical than the Italian critics (De
Feis, Fedeli, Gighoni). He concludes it to be doubtful
if the St. Expedit venerated to day is the same as the
martyr mentioned on the 18-19 April in the Hieronymian
Martyrolo^y. If he is the same, his mention in the
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S70 Foreign Periodicals [July,
Martyrology would not be a sufficient reason to make his
cult legitimate, for this Martyrology presents very extra-
ordinary anomalies ; it mentions Eusebius of Cesarea and
Arius. . . . The cult paid to St. Expedit to-day is
vitiated in its origin. A reply to a correspondent
says that the condemnation of the Essais of P. Laber-
thonni^re does not seem to include the brochure out of
which the first chapter of the book was constructed.
Makes mention of Letires Indiscretes^ published by
Jean de Bonnefon, to whom they were confided by their
writer an Abb^, doctor oi the Sorbonne, before his
death. They are addressed to Cardinal Richard and
criticise the administration of a diocese. A letter
to the editor by a curl doyen suggests the wisdom of
permitting the French priests to lay aside the soutane
when traveling in the streets, lest they receive a knife-
thrust or a pistol-bullet. "I am as ready as the next
to die for my faith ; but I feel no enthusiasm about
dying for my soutane."
(i June): J. Airandi writes on the Catholic press, and
urges that more work and better work be done. "By
its antecedents, by the honorable position it still occu-
pies, by the real merit of its editors and contributors,
by the confidence towards it displayed by the most emi-
nent members of the episcopate and the priesthood, the
Univers would seem designed to fulfil this function.
With regret and great sorrow, I must say that it does
so only to an unsatisfactory extent. . . . There is
discord in the ranks of the Univers. There is a schism
in the staff; of the celebrated journal which led the
fight so long, in whose columns resounded the vibrant
and and never to be-forgotten appeals of Louis Veuillot,
the first of French journalists, there remain but two
mutilated and decapitated pieces, raging against each
other in a fratricidal war, to the great joy of their com-
mon enemies." Reviewing Father Lucas' book on
Savonarola, P. Turmel writes : " Of course, no one any
longer thinks of taking seriously the trial at Florence;
it was an abominable parody of justice. On the other
hand, we are aware of the value of the heavenly mission
with which the eminent Dominican believed himself in-
vested. Savonarola appears to us as a soul eminently
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I906.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 571
religious but exaltS, We see in him a man who \vished
to regenerate the Church, who sacrificed everything, even
his life, to attain this noble end ; but who was the dupe
of mystical illusions. On all the points the historians
are in agreement. ... If we condemn him we must
at least extend him the benefit of extenuating circum-
stances. One must, above all> wish that Providence may
now spare the Church such sad trials as those she has
passed through. One must wish that religious authority
may never be, I do not say unworthy of its mission,
but unequal to its task; that it may of itself take the in-
itiative in necessary reforms, without waiting for the
imperious and menacing calls of the public conscience.
Revolt, even when caused by flagrant abuses, is always
supremely deplorable. The question is : Can it be
avoided ? and history seems to answer. No. At any
rate, the Papacy which was successful in getting rid
of Savonarola, has perhaps to regret a success without
which it would probably have avoided Luther."
Rassegna Nazionale (i May): C. Caviglionc dedicates twenty-
six pages to a careful resumed Balfour's Foundations of
Belief just translated into Italian. In the series of
sketches of Italian Ladies of Olden Time, B. Felice pre-
sents Clarice Orsini, wife of Lorenzo the Magnificent.
(i6 May): F. Tocco writes on the Franciscan ideal, in-
capable of being actually realized in the world, but bril-
liant enough to illumine our life, still, after six centu-
ries, to dissipate our clouds and give us hope. X.
contributes a brief description of Father Tyrrell's new
book, Lex Credendi. C. Caviglione criticizes adversely
an article in the Studi Religiosi by P. Minocchi on the
new clerical culture, saying the authority of the writer
in the field of the dead languages and his position as a
priest will unfortunately give weight to the contradic-
tions and errors he is here responsible for. S. Monti
severely criticizes the book of un uonto sewplice who at-
tacked P. Semeria as a calumniator, declared him open to
the charge of heresy and impiety, and called his theology
very novel and wonderful.— —To Guilio Vitali the pub-
lication of // Santo and its condemnation gives sad
thoughts on the present state of consciences. There has
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572 FOREIGN PERIODICALS , [July.
been a reappearance of religious hatred, notably on the
part of "clericals" waging a campaign of ignorance
against the nobler and more illuminated clergy. Some
clericals — not Christians, however — would wish Fogazarro
expelled from the Church for having spoken a single sin-
cere word ; some liberals — surely very narrow — would
wish to ostracise him for his submission. But, in fact,
when the book and its condemnation shall have passed
away, the moral value of his act will remain,
(i June): £. Ferraris, writing on the Biblical Question
and the Society of Jesus," draws attention to the stric-
tures passed by P. Schiffini, S.J., on the Dominican, P.
Lagrange, and quotes from the latter's reply : " I need
not answer a man who treats me as a liar and insinuates
that I am a traitor to the Church. A proper answer
would be too severe ; or, rather, would not be given in
writing." The simultaneous attack made by P.P. Schif-
fini, Delattre, and Fonck, is said to suggest "a word of
command." "Not only is the historical method opposed
by an a priori method, but an honest method is opposed
by a method of insinuations. Schiffini does not discuss
the theories ot Lagrange, he attacks his intentions."
Lessius, Maldonatus, Petavius, Bollandus are mentioned
as types for imitation by their descendants. " It is pos-
sible to silence free speech in the Catholic Church, but
there remains the vast Protestant world, there remains
the world of independent thinkers. Eliminate a Richard
Simon or a Loisy and there rises a Renan. I should
cry Caveanty
Civilta Cattolica ( 9 May) : Publishes the Italian translation of
Fr. Meschler's commentary upon St. Ignatius' rules for
"thinking with the Church," to show the essential con-
nection between Christian Catholicism and agreement in
thought and in speech with the Pope as regards things
of faith. rConsiders anti- clericalism in Italy a brutal
denial of liberty of conscience and the worst enemy of
national unity.
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THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION.
STUDENTS of Irish History will derive much benefit from a careful reading
of the suggestive outline prepared by Charles Johnston for his course of
lectures at the Champlain Summer-School during the ueek beginning July
23. It is hoped also that many Reading Circles will consult the following
synopsis in arranging plans for the coming year.
THE MAKING OF THE IRISH RACE.
The Four Great Races of Western Europe : Iberian^ Ligurian, Scandina-
vian, Central-European — Their Physical and Moral Characteristies^Repie-
sentatives of These Four Races in Ireland: Fomorians, Firbolgs, Tuatha De
Danaan, Milesians — Physical Character — Traditions of Each Race; Their
Ethical Basis — Successive Migrations to Ireland — Milesian Suprcmac}— Or-
ganization of the Four and Later Five Kingdoms of Ireland^Wars Between
Them — The Cycle of the Red Branch in Ulster — The Leinster Cycle of Find
and Ossin — King Cormac — Niall ot the Nine Hostages.
Bibliography : Dr. Isaac Taylor — The Origin of, the Aryans, Borlase
— The Dolmens of^ Ireland, Col. Wood-Martin — Irish Lake Dwellings, Dr.
Douglas Hyde — The Annals of the Four Masters s The Story of Early Gaelic
Literature,
ST. PATRICK AND CLASSICAL LEARNING.
The Ireland to Which St. Patrick Came — His Coming and Journeys
Throughout Ireland — The Confession — His Successors: Bridget, Columba,
Columbanus, Gallus, Fursa, etc. — Religion, Art, and Culture Carried by
Irish Scholars to Scotland, England, France, Germany, Switzerland, Italy,
Austria, and Iceland — Irish at the Court of Charlemagne — Scotus Erigena —
Irish Knowledge of Greek and Hebrew — The Danish Incursions — Gradual
Subjugation and Absorption of the Danes — Brian's Victory at Clontarf.
Bibliography: Professor J. Bury— J/. Patrick, (1905.) Lady Fergu-
son — Ireland Before the Conquest, Margaret Stokes — Early Christian Art
in Ireland. Charles Johnston — Ireland^ Historic and Picturesque,
THE NORMAN INVASION.
Roderick O'Connor and Dermot MacMurrogh — Earl Strongbow In-
vited to Aid De|-mot — Henry II. — De Courcy and De Lacy — Norman Keeps
and Dungeons — The English Pale — The Fitzgeralds — Rebellion of Silken
Thomas— The Wars of the O'Neills— Shane O'Neill— The Battle of the
Yellow Ford — Spenser and Raleigh in Ireland — Contest Between Irish and
English Law.
Bibliography : Dr. P. W. Joyce— -<4 Short History of Ireland, Dr.
George T. Stokes — Ireland and the Anglo-Norman Church, T. Bunting —
The Ancient Music of Ireland,
WARS BETWEEN ENGLAND AND IRELAND.
The Plantation of Ulster— The Stuart Kings — Thomas Wentworth, Lord
Strafford— the Irish Rebellion of 1641— Owen Roe O'Neill— The Battle of
Benburb — Death of O'Neill — Coming of Cromwell — Sack of Drogheda — Ire-
ton in Ireland — Jacobite Wars of 1 688-1 691 — Siege of Derry — Battle of
the Boyne — Flight of the English King — Battle of Aughrim — Siege of Lim-
erick — Sarsfield — French Aid — Tyrconnell — Treaty of Limerick.
Bibliography: JohnTaiylor— Owen Poe O^Neill, W. J. Fitzpatrick—
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574 THE Columbian Reading Union [July,
Ireland Before the Union, John F. Finerty, President of the United Irish
League — Ireland*
THE RENASCENT IRELAND OF TO-DAY.
The Penal Laws of the Eighteenth Century^- Grattan's Parliament — The
Volunteers — Lord Edward Fitzgerald — The Rebellion of 1798— Robert Em-
met — Daniel 0*Connell — Catholic Emancipation — The Young Irelanders,
Thomas Davis, Gavan Duffy, John O'Lcary — ^The Fenian Movement of 1867
— Disestablishment of the Church of Ireland — The Land League — Land Bills
of Gladstone and Balfour — Home Rule Bills — County Councils — Wyndham's
Land Bill — The Gaelic League.
Bibliography : Sigerson— ZAr^^ Centuries of Irish History. Edited by
T. W. Rolleston— ^/iViVf^j of Davis, T. W. Kn^stW—Ireland and the Em-
pire, Charles Johnston and Carita Spencer — Ireland* s Story. Dr. Douglas
Hyde, President of the Gaelic League — Literary History of Ireland. W. F.
Wakcman — Handbook of Irish Antiquities. Dr. P. W. Joyce — Irish Local
Names Explained.
Charles Johnston began his studies of Irish history under t,he domin-
ation of his stern father, well known in the House of Commons as '*Mr.
Johnston, of Ballykilbeg," who was a vigorous opponent of the Irish Parlia-
mentary Party. Having convinced himself by long reading that he could not
afHliate with the policy of the Orangemen, Charles Johnston is now a valiant
defender of Ireland's history as presented by the late John Mitchel and other
impartial historians. His recent book. The Story of Ireland^ is published by
Houghton, Mifflin & Co., and should have a place in every school library,
side by side with the approved histories of England. The larger work of
Dr. Joyce, entitled The Household History of Ireland, and his condensed
volume, The Concise History of Ireland, published by Longmans, Green &
Co., are still held in high esteem and roust be consulted by all who wish to
know the latest developments of critical research.
A circular issued by the State officers of the Ancient Order of Hibernians
of New York contains the cheering statement of progress in these words:
We are greatly encouraged by the reports we are receiving from locali-
ties and parish schools, as to the progress made in the study of " Irish His-
tory." The hearty co-operation which ne are receiving frcm the clergy, ard
the earnest efforts of the teachers and others in charge, cannot but be con-
ducive to the advancement of this important subject. In connection with
this matter, it occurs to your officers that this subject can and should be
recognized by the officials of the State department of education, and granted
a certain number of counts toward a certificate. Is there any reason why
Irish History should receive less consideration than English History, or
Roman History, or Grecian History? All these are electives in the various
high schools of the State, and receive a certain number of counts toward the
State certificates. If this were done, the pupil taking up the study of Irish
History would add to his store of knowledge and at the same time gain a
material increase in the number of counts toward the certificate he is striving
for. Pupils should be encouraged to become familiar with the history of the
land of their forefathers, and, as an incentive, prizes should be offered for
those becoming most proficient in the study. We would recommend that
suitable prizes be furnished by the County Boards.
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i9o6.] The Columbian Reading Union 575
Hon. James E. Dolan, the National President of the Ancient Order of
Hibernians, is a fine type of his race. His work in urging the study of Irish
History, and in forming special night schools, has met with remarkable
success.
Daniel F. Cohalan, on behalf of the United Irish-American Societies,
has reported the good news that the New York State Board of Regents, at a
meeting held April 26, 1906, approved the giving of credit marks -to the
study of Irish History. Eugene A. Philbin and Edward Lauterbach, mem-
bers of the Board of Regents, ably presented the arguments that were unani-
mously ratified.
Irish History was made part of the Boston school curriculum recently by
order of the School Board. In the grammar school grades the History of
Ireland will form part of the supplementary reading in connection with the
study of American History, just as the History of England, France, and
Spain is called on for reference in this study.
In the high schools Irish History will be an elective and taught in con-
nection with the two history courses, on modern European history, beginning
with the year 800. This arrangement has been incorporated in the new
schedule of studies for the high schools which has been revised by Superin-
tendent Brooks and approved by the board. The text-book to be used is
Inland's Story, by Johnston.
• • •
Commenting on the refusal of certain ofHcers of the French army to dis-
grace their uniforms by entering Catholic churches to take part in the Gov-
ernment's work of taking inventories of the Catholic property, the Free-
man's Journal szys \ " It is easy for a Catholic to enter into the feelings of
these French officers, when they are face to face with the alternative of either
committing a revolting sacrilege or of ruining their military career. In the
morning of life they joined the army, filled with enthusiasm at the prospect
of serving their country. Prepared to sacrifice their lives if need be for
France, they never anticipated that a time would ceme when they would be
called upon to trample under foot their religious convictions in carrying out
orders of their military superiors. When the crucial moment came, and they
had to make a choice whether they would be loyal to their conscience or
whether they would endanger their professional career, they did not hesi-
tate, but willingly braved all consequences rather than be guilty of dis-
loyalty to their God."
• • •
Peter Rosegger, the peasant writer, was a sickly child who proved too
weak to be put to the regular work of the farm. In some odd corner he un-
earthed an old wormeaten book. Writings of the Life of Jesus Christy His
Mother Maria and Many Saints of God, He puzzled through it until he
could read it all. His family was delighted with his achievement, and he
was soon in great demand to read to the sick and the dying and the corpse
watchers. He was apprenticed to a tailor, but he was so much more inter-
ested in the newspapers out of which the patterns were cut than in the gar-
ments that he was not much of a success. With his first savings he bought a
People's Calendar y which he read aloud to the peasants. Not having enough
money to buy the next season's number, he supplied the want by writing one
himself, and thus began his literary career. Up to his twenty-second year he
had only two months' schooling. He is to-day recognized as the national
poet of Styria, a Ph.D. in the Rupert Carola University, a medal has been
struck in his honor by the Austrian Government, and he has been made a
Chevalier of the order of the Iron Crown. M. C. M.
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BOOKS RECEIVED
Longmans, Green & Co., New York :
Lex Credendi. A Sequel \oLex Orandu By George Tyrrell. Pp. xviii.-2s6. Price $i.7S-
The Problem of the Pentateuch, An Examination of the Results of the Higher Criticism.
By Randolph H. McKim, D.D.. LL.D. Pp. xvii.-i36. Price $i.
Benziger Brothers, New York:
The Lover of Souls. Short Conferences on the Sacred Heart of Jesus. By Reverend
Henry Brinkmeyer. Pp. i8o. Price $i. Gosfels of the Sundays and Festivals ; with
an Introduction, Parallel Passaj^es, Notes, and Moral Reflections. By Very Rev. Corne-
lius J. Rvan, D.O. 2 vols. 2d edition. Price $4.50. In the Brave Days of Old, His-
torical Sketches of the Elizabethan Persecution. By Dom Bede Camm, O.S.B. New
Edition. Price 70 cents. Great Catholic Laymen. By John J. Horgan. I^. 388.
Price $1.50. Short Spiritual Reading for Mary's Children. By Madame Cecilia.
Kenedy & Sons, New York :
Billy Glenn of the Broken Shutters. By Anthony Yorke. Illustrated. Pp. 261.
Fr. Pustet & Co.. New York :
Excerpta ex Rituali Romano. Pp. X.-423. Price $1 net.
The Grafton Press. New York :
The Boy and the Outlaw, By Thomas J. L. McManus. Pp. vi.-4o8. Price $i.5a
Magdala Company, New York:
Miriam of Magdala : A Study. By Katherine F. MuUany. Pp. 100. Price $1.
The Hobart Company, New York:
A Soldier's Trial: An Episode of thelCanteon Crusade, By General Charles King. Pp.
vii.-333- I
J. Fischer & Brothers, New York :
Kyriale sive Ordinarium Musa. Edition A. Gregorian Notation. Pp. viii.-8o.
Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Boston, Mass.:
The Court of Love. By Ahce Brown. Pp. 211. Price $1.25.
Angel Guardian Press, Boston, Mass.:
The Irish in America One Thousand Years Before Columbus. By Martin J. Mulloj.
Pp. 146.
Herbert B. Turner & Co., Boston, Mass.:
Enigmas of Psychical Research. By James H. Hyslop, Ph.D.^ LL.D. Pp. ix.-432.
B. Herder, St. Louis:
The Early Scottish Church. Its Doctrine and Discipline. Bv Dom Coltmiba Edmonds,
Monk of Fort Augustus. Pp. 306. Price $1.60. Richard Raynal, Solitary. Bv Robert
Hugh Benson. Price $1.25. Pearl; or, A Passinp Brightness. By Ofive Katherine
Parr. Price $1.10. Westminster Series: The Witness of the Gospels. By Very Rev-
erend Monsignor A. S. Barnes, M.A. Price, paper. 15 cents; cloth, 30 cents. The
Existence of God. By Right Rev. Canon Moyes. D.D. The Annual Retreat. Medita-
tions and Spiritual Conferences for the Use of Religious who make their Retreat An-
nually. By the Rev. Gabriel Bouffier, S.J. Translated from the French by Madame
Cecilia. Price 95 cents. The Law of the Church. A Cyclopaedia of Canon Law for
English-Speaking Countries. By Ethelred Taunton. Pp. 652. Price $6.75.
Browne & Nolan, Ltd., Dublin, Ireland:
Irish Catholics and Trinity College. By the Rev. J. F. Hogan, D.D. Pp. vii.-Z4i.
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THE
CATHOLIC WORLD.
Vol. LXXXIII. AUGUST, 1906. No. 497-
NEWMAN AND LITTLEMORE.
BY WILFRID WILBERFORCE.
VENTURE to say that no one, whose education
has caused him to be affected in even the small-
est degree by the great Religious Movement of
1 833-1 845, will be satisfied with a visit to Ox-
ford, unless it be supplemented by a journey —
nay, in most instances, a pilgrimage — to Littlemore. And with-
in the sixteen years which have elapsed since the death of
Newman, the mass of literature which has illustrated the life-
work of that wonderful man has brought home to the mind
of every educated reader something, at least, of what the name
of Littlemore meant to a generation that is gone.
Some day, perhaps, the little Oxfordshire village will bear
upon it a mark or token of the events — silent, like all God's
works, but none the less stupendous — of which it was once the
scene. Already single visitors have done a little — as witness
the pretty crucifix which hangs above the pulpit of what was
at one time Newman's church, and its touching Latin tribute
from a " Stranger " (as though any lover of Newman, still less
a pilgrim from the great English-speaking Republic of the
West, could be a stranger in Littlemore). On the cross are
painted the words: "/« piam memoriam J. H. N,, hujus sa^
celli fundatoris^ Deo dedit Advenay anno MCMII^ — a fresh and
pleasant illustration of the motto, " Cor ad cor loquitur.*' And
Copjrright X906. The Missionary Society of St. Paul the Apostle
IN THE State op New York.
VOL. LXXXIII.— 37
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578 Newman and Littlemore [Aug.,
the same loving hand has adorned the room in which Newman
wrote and prayed, with a framed photograph of the well-known
engraving of the Richmond portrait, though here the gift has
been forestalled by another portrait in the Cardinal's dress,
presented by one who (and surely there is symbolism here)
divides his life between Oxford and Rome, and is equally at
home and deservedly respected and loved in both cities.
But these tributes, though they express what thousands
feel, are but individual acts of reverence. One hopes for more
— for something^ at least, which would make impossible such
stupid vandalism as that which broke up and turned into
fire-wood the pulpit in which the ''Parting of Friends" was
preached. Not, indeed, let me hasten to add, that there is
danger of any such thing occurring under the present en-
lightened vicar, as is sufficiently proved even to a stranger, by
his allowing the aforementioned crucifix (the gift of an Ameri-
can Catholic) to hang near his pulpit; but even his loving
appreciation of the great days cannot bring back what the
blunder of a predecessor allowed to be destroyed ; neither can
we count upon an unbroken succession of men like Canon
Irvine.
Littlemore is reached from Oxford by a branch from the
Iffley Road. At what is known as Iffley Turn stands the house
called Rose Bank, where Newman's mother passed the even-
ing of her life. And from this point, or a few yards further
up the hill, is seen a splendid panorama of Oxford. At one's
feet, almost, are the domes and spires and minarets of what
is still and ever will be the great intellectual pulse of Eng-
land. There lies the fair city in all its outward majesty, and
there, within its heart, lay of old the supreme treasures of the
Divine Presence and Divine Truth, which Protestantism has-
tened to destroy when it robbed them of their home. And
here again we are dogged by symbolism ; for we continue our
walk to Littlemore, and by that very act we turn our back
upon Oxford, as Newman did when he was driven by the
urgent unworldliness of his soul to give up "much that he
loved and prized and could have retained, but that he loved
honesty better than name, and truth better than dear friends."*
To and fro along this road, often several times in the week,
for many years together, Newman was accustomed to walk or
• Ap9lo^iam Preface. P. xv.
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I906.] NEWMAN AND LiTTLEMORE $79
ride; for Littlemore was part of the pastorate of St. Mary the
Virgin, of which church he became vicar in 1828, after hold-
ing a curacy at St. Clement's
This road which he so often trod has its Newman memory,
and one so characteristic that it will bear re-telling here. He
was one morning riding with Dornford to Littlemore; perhaps
it was at this time that Newman possessed his Irish horse,
"Klepper." If so, he would no doubt find it easier than on a
hired hack to keep pace with his companion, who was proud
of his military character (he had served in the Peninsular War)
and loved to ride at a good speed.
" In those days," relates Mr. Mozley in his Reminiscences ^
"the first milestone between Oxford and IfHey was in a narrow,
winding part of the road, between high banks, where nothing
could be seen fifty yards ahead. Dornford and Newman heard
the sound of a cart, and the latter detected its accelerated pace,
but the impetuous ^ captain,' as he loved to be styled, heeded
it not. It was the business of a cart to keep its own side.
They arrived within sight of the cart, just in time to see the
carter jump down and be caught instantly between the wheel
and the milestone, falling dead on the spot. The shock on
Dornford was such that he was seriously ill for two months,
and hypochondriac for a much longer time. The result in
Newman's case was a solemn vow that whenever he met a
carter driving without reins, or sitting on the shaft, he would
make him get down; and this he never failed to do. Several
years after this sad affair, I was walking with him on the same
road. There came rattling on two newly- painttd wagons,
drawn by splendid teams, that had evidently been taking corn
to market, and were now returning home without loads. There
were several men in the wagons, but no one on foot. It oc-
curred to me that as the wagoners were probably not quite
sober, it was only a choice of evils whether they were on foot
or in the wagons. But Newman had no choice ; he was bound
by his vow, and he compelled the men to come down. We
went on to Littlemore, were there for some time, and then
turned our faces homewards. Coming in sight of the public
house at Littlemore, we saw the two show- teams, and some-
thing of a throng about them; so we could not but divine
evil. It was too true. The wagoners had watched us out of
sight, and got into their wagons again. The horses had run
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58o NEWMAN AND LiTTLEMORE [Aug.,
away on some alarm, one of the men had jumped out, and bad
received fatal injuries."
For a long time Littlemore • held a large share in New-
man's heart. The souls of its people had been committed to
his care, and, in taking the vicariate of St. Mary's he had ac-
cepted the trust.
In 1835 the church, so perfect in its architectural lines, was
built, the first stone being laid by Newman's mother. In the
following year it was consecrated, but before the day of the
ceremony Mrs. Newman had died. These events are commemo-
rated by a carving in bas-relief on the northern wall of the
church. A figure representing the founder stands — the plan
of the church in her hand, while her Angel Guardian points
to the scaffolding«of the church which occupies the background.
An inscription below sufficiently explains the motive of the
carving,* and yet, much to Newman's annoyance, some friend
suggested that it was sure to be mistakea for the Annuncia-
tion. To prevent this, the plans of the church in Mrs. New-
man's hand were added, ''and this," sighed Newman, '*is all
that can now be done to correct misapprehension."
Littlemore became to Newman a place of retreat, far away
from the storm and stress and turmoil of the University. For
days together, and sometimes for weeks, he would live in re-
tirement and solitude, seeing no one but his parishioners, but
giving himself to their service as though he had nothing else
to think of. Besides constantly visiting them in their houses,
he organized classes for teaching the children catechism, and
singing. He also provided the school with as capable a mistress
as he could find. Twice each day he called his people to-
gether into the Church for morning and evening prayer. In
this way he spent the Lent of 1840. But, two years later,
Littlemore became his home. A row of cottages running out
of the main street of the village stands now as it stood then,
and this place, unpicturesque as it is, and utterly unpromising
from a poetical or aesthetic point of view, was destined to be-
come the object of pilgrimage for hundreds to whom the career
of Newman is an enigma, as well as for thousands more who,
directly or indirectly, owe their faith to him.
The full significance of Newman's retirement to a work-
* The inscription reads : " Sacred to the Memory of Jemima Newman, who laid the 6rst
stone of this Chapel, July 21st, 1835, and died before it was finished. May 17. 1836, in the 64tfa
vear of her age."
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I906.] NEWMAN AND LiTTLEMORE 58 1
man's cottage at Littlemore cannot be gauged unless one real-
izes something of the position which he held at that time in
the University of Oxford.
It is, indeed, scarcely possible to exaggerate the greatness
of that position or the power which, in the later thirties and
up to 1845, be exercised over the University. Nothing at all
like it has been seen there since. Pusey, indeed, was for many
years a great name, and he enjoyed the well merited respect
due to piety and learning. In a totally different way J-owett's
influence was very considerable. But neither Jowett nor Pusey,
separately or together, ever wielded a tithe of the power which
Newman, without effort — nay, almost unwillingly — possessed at
the very time when, by his own deliberate act, he withdrew
from the undisputed preeminence, academic and spiritual, from
which none could have deposed him had he chosen to retain
it
We can scarcely open a book dealing with the Oxford
Movement without seeing at once how the whole ethos of the
place was centred and ruled by that one great and command-
ing personality.
Principal Shairp's words on this subject will bear quotation.
He says :
''The influence" which Newman '' gained without apparent-
ly setting himself to seek it, was something altogether unlike
anything else in our time. A mysterious veneration had by
degrees gathered round him, till now it was almost as if some
Ambrose or Augustine of older ages had reappeared. In Oriel
Lane lighthearted undergraduates would drop their voices and
whisper: 'There's Newman.' When, head thrust forward and
gaze fixed as though on some vision seen only by himself,
with swift, noiseless step he glided by, a^e fell en them for a
moment, almost as if it had been some apparition that had
passed."
But, as one of his Oxford contemporaries remarked years
afterwards: ''It was impossible that any man could be more
happily unconscious, that, as he walked rapidly along the
High Street, his head a little elevated, and lookirg straight
before him, there were seldom wanting strangers to whcm he
was being eagerly pointed out by some Oxford man. Photog-
raphy had not in those days made the features of all cele-
brated men familiar to all the world; and the well-known
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582 NEWMAN AND LiTTLEMORE [Aug.,
print by Robinson after George Richmond did not appear till
he had been for some time a Catholic, although the picture
was taken before."
But it was as a preacher beyond everything else that New-
man became the best known man at Oxford, and in speaking
of him in this capacity no apology is needed for calling to
our aid the pen of Newman's friend and contemporary who
has just been quoted.
After alluding to ''the teaching which aroused the deep
sleep of the University of Oxford between 1828 and 1841,"
he remarks that no one will ''need to be told that there was
a something which neither the press nor the most skillful pen-
cil can ever perpetuate, in the whole manner and delivery of
the preacher. What that was we utterly despair of giving
even a faint idea to any man who did not witness it. To
those who are justly penetrated with the force and beauty
'of these sermons in their printed form,' one can only say
with iCschines, what if you had heard himself pronounce it?
And yet nothing could at first sight be more opposite to the
manner of the great Athenian orator. The Sermons ('Paro-
chial and Plain') were^all not only written but, according to
the custom which, many years before, had become more than
a custom, all but a law, with Anglican preachers, were read.
Action, in the common sense of the word, there was none.
Through many of them the preacher never moved anything
but his head. His hands were literally not seen from the be-
ginning to the end. The sermon began in a calm, musical
voice, the key slightly rising as it went on: by-and-by the
preacher warmed with his subject; it seemed as if his very
soul and body glowed with sternly-suppressed emotion. There
were times when, in the midst of the most thrilling passages,
he would pause, without dropping his voice, for a moment
which seemed long, before he uttered with gathered force and
solemnity a few weighty words. The very tones of his voice
seemed as if they were something more than his own.
"There are those who, to this day, in reading many of the
Sermons . . . have the whole scene brought back before
them. The great Church [St. Mary the Virgin's], the congre-
gation which barely filled it, all breathless with expectant at-
tention. The gaslight, just at the left hand of the pulpit, low-
ered that the preacher might not be dazzled ; themselves per-
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i9o6.] Newman and Littlemore 583
haps standing in the half-darkness under the gallery, and then
the pause before those words in the Ventures of Faith (Vol.
IV.) thrilled through them — They say unto him we are able —
or those in the seventh Sermon of the sixth volume, The
Cross of Christ.
*' Nor should the manner of reading the Psalms and the
Scripture lessons in the service which preceded the sermon be
passed over. Its chief characteristics were the same.
"Why is it that while many things at the time even more
impressive have faded from the memory, one scene, or per-
haps one cadence, remains fixed in it for life ? Thus it is
that one who more than forty years ago • stood just before
him almost a boy in the College Chapel [at Oriel], has at
this moment in his ears the sounds of the words: 'O mag-
nify the Lord our God and worship him upon his holy hill —
/or the Lord our God is Holy.* "
Then follow words describing the deep religious feelings of
a sincere and conscientious man at the time when he still be-
lieved the Anglican Church to be part of the Church of God.
And the closing passage relating to the way in which the
writer, as a Catholic, looks back to what at one time he sin-
cerely believed to have been the reception of the real Body
of Christ in Communion, contains what, in my judgment, is
one of the noblest and most complete similes in English lit-
erature — its truth and fullness enhanced by the exquisite lan-
guage in which it is clothed. "Those," writes the author in
question, " were days never to be recalled in this world."
Converts may thank God that he has given them blessings far
beyond anything of which they then dreamed. They have
found, in coming into the Church of God, from which they
then shrank with a fear not wholly blameable because it
sprang from a misguided conscience, that ' the things we feared
are nowhere to be found, the things for which we hoped are
beyond all that we could ask or think.' . . . But the things
that have gone by will never again be seen. And they still
look back to those distant years, as the children of Israel, long
after they had been put in possession of the Mand flowing
with milk and honey,' must have felt in remembering those
mornings when the glow of dawn was setting fire to the east-
ern horizon in the wilderness, and when they went forth from
• These words were written in 1869.
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584 Newman and Littlemore [Aug,,
the camp, to gather from the desert sands the supply of
manna for the day."
But more cogent than the testimony of any individual con-
temporary to the magnetism exercised by Newman, is the fact,
beyond all others convincing, that on the feast of St. Peter,
1840, which fell that year on Monday in Commemoration Week,
the Church was full to overflowing, because Newman was to
preach ; whereas, on a saint's day at any season, a dozen
would not have been reckoned an unusually small congregation.
In the providence of God it happened that the very cir-
cumstance which seemed at the time to deprive Newman of
his chief weapon of influence, tended directly to increase its
power tenfold.
As all the world knows he was, in 1826, made one of the
tutors of his College. His view of the duties incumbent upon
him is briefly explained in his own words: " I have," he
writes, ^' a great undertaking before me in the tutorship here.
I trust God may give me grace to undertake it in a proper
spirit, and to keep steadily in view that I have set myself
apart for his service forever." The tutorship, as he himself
tells us, he regarded as distinctly a fulfilment of his ordination
vow — as a pastoral charge. ''To have considered that office
to be merely secular, and yet to have engaged in it, would
have been the greatest of inconsistencies."^
But Hawkins took a totally different view, and Hawkins
was then, as provost, in a position to make his view prevail.
Without regarding a tutorship as unclerical, it was with
him a matter of doubt whether it might not become so. It
was, anyhow, '' no fulfilment of the vow made at ordination,
nor could it be consistently exercised by one who was bound
by such a vow, as his life- long occupation."
Despite this divergence of views between provost and tutor,
Newman continued in his office for four years. But in June,
1830, Hawkins peremptorily closed the controversy by stop- *
ping the supply of pupils, and Newman, with Hurrell Froude
and Robert Wilberforce, ceased to be tutors.
There were not wanting men, and able men too, with views
of life and usefulness bounded by the narrow limits of a col-
lege quad, who believed that, on his being deprived of the
tutorship, Newman's career was at an end.
♦ Litters and Correspcndtnce of J, H, Nrwman. Vol. I. P. 131.
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I906.] NEWMAN AND LiTTLEMORE 585
Robert Wilberforce understood his friend better. " If New-
man ceases to be tutor/' said he at the tinie, ''his genius will
soon pervade the University."
Before this prediction had been forgotten it was more than
verified, for not the University only, but the whole of Eng-
land was pervaded and electrified by the sermons which were
poured forth from pulpit and press with unexampled rapidity.
Their dates speak for themselves. In 1834 appeared the first
volume of the Parochial Sermons; Vol. II. is dated February,
183s; Vol. III. February, 1836; Vol. IV. November, 1838;
Vol. V. October, 1840; Vol. VI. Quinquagesima, 1842. The
mere recital of these dates is striking enough. But what is
not merely striking, but altogether unprecedented, is the fact
that, in 1868, that is when the preacher had been a Catholic
and a priest for close upon a quarter of a century, these Ser-
mons were republished by a Protestant firm in eight volumes.
Surely no greater proof could be adduced of the tremendous
power of Newman's genius than the fact that a generation of
Protestants, to whom his name was known as that of a Catho-
lic priest and as nothing else, should supply a reading public
for this enterprise.
Great preachers have, of course, been heard in Oxford be-
fore and since Newman, but it is probable that the average
discourse at St. Mary's was of the kind to make so eminent a
preacher peculiarly welcome. On most days it had been the
custom for clerical Masters of Arts to occupy the pulpit in
turns; while those who were unable for any reason to preach
were required to find a substitute, with the result that these
''hack preachers," as they came to be called, who lived by
what they could earn in this manner, appeared at St. Mary's
a great deal oftener than the congregation desired. To such
a degree was this true, that the. University Church on these
occasions became at last deserted by all except those whose
office compelled them to be present. This state of things
led, in 1818, to the appointment of "Select Preachers," ten
in number, one of whom took the place of any one whose
turn fell on a Sunday in Term, unless he was able to preach
himself. The list of Select Preachers certainly contains many
names that have lived. In it we find Newman himself, as
well as Manning and Keble. But for all that, we hear of
a witty Oxford clergyman in the old days excusing himself
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586 NEWMAN AND LITTLEMORE [Aug.,
for taking a country walk on Sunday during church time, by
saying that he preferred sermons from stones to seimons from
sticks.
And in all probability the famous Bampton Lectures were
even drearier still. These are eight very long dissertations de-
livered during the Summer Term, and. the lecturer used, men
say, to be sometimes chosen on grounds rather of interest than
of learning or oratorical ability. One lecturer, it was alleged,
owed his appointment to the fact that his wife had deserted
him. It was thought that the stimulus of preparing and de-
livering the Bamptons would act as a salve to his outraged
feelings. The story goes on to say that the unanimous verdict
of the University was that the erring lady had a world to say
for herself, and it was added that though the Church was un-
doubtedly intended for the comfort of sufferers and for awak-
ening charitable thoughts towards wrong- doers, this principle
had on that occasion been somewhat strained.
No words are needed to prove that the unparalled influence
which Newman brought to bear upon the country by means
of his preaching would have had no existence if he had re-
tained his tutorship. With all his modesty, he himself ad-
mitted the truth of this proposition. Speaking in the third
person, but referring to himself, Newman writes: ''As the
Oxford Theological Movement (so to call it) may be said to
have ended in his resignation of St. Mary's, so it dates its
origin from his and Hurrell Froude's premature separation from
the office of college tutor."
From that movement, then, we may say, on the highest
authority, the Oxford Movement began.
And it is not without interest and instruction to trace the
events which led on to this great religious upheaval. Copies-
ton, who was provost of Oriel when Newman became fellow,
was, in the year 1827, nominated to the bishopric of Llandaff,
and Dr. Hawkins was chosen to fill his place. The other can-
didate was Keble. Hurrell Froude, in all things vehement,
strongly supported Keble, alleging as his chief argument that
as provost he would introduce a new world of thought, and
that ''donnishness and humbug" would vanish from the col-
lege.
But in Newman's view, Oriel needed a man of business,
and of the two he regarded Hawkins as in this respect the
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I906.] NEWMAN AND LiTTLEMORE 587
better candidate. To Keble he thus explained the state of his
mind with the familiar candor of true friendship: "I have
lived more with Hawkins than with any other fellow, and
have thus had opportunities for understanding him more than
others. His general views so agree with my own, his prac-
tical notions, religious opinions, and habits of thinking, that I
feel vividly and powerfully the advantages the college would
gain when governed by one who, pursuing ends which I cor-
dially approve, would bring to the work powers of mind to ,
which I have long looked up with great admiration."
And to Froude he remarked that '' if an angel's place was
vacant he should look toward Keble," but that they were only
electing a provost.
" Little did Newman suspect," says the Cardinal in his
Autobiographical Memoir^ " that Froude's meaning when accu-
rately brought out was that Keble had a theory of the duties
of a college towards its alumni which substantially coincided
with his own."
Hawkins' candidature, therefore, was successful; an event
which was to mould and color the future, not only of Newman
himself but of countless hundreds of others; for it led directly
to Newman's appointment as vicar of St. Mary's, and indi-
rectly to the loss of his tutorship, the duties of which would
have rendered his career as a great preacher impossible. What
the influence of that career was, 1 have attempted to explain
above. But the subject is one which well bears dwelling upon.
Many are the testimonies from those who, Sunday after Sun-
day, were thrilled and led captive by '' the voice and pene-
trating words " of him who spoke '' as if the angels and the
dead were his audience."
"No one," says Anthony Froude, "who heard his sermons
in those days can forget them. . . . They were seldom di-
rectly theological. Newman, taking some Scripture character
for a text, spoke to us about ourselves, our temptations, our
experiences. His illustrations were inexhaustible. He seemed
to be addressing the most secret consciousness of each of us —
as the eyes of a portrait appear to look at every person in
the room. They appeared to me to be the outcome of con-
tinued meditation upon his fellow- creatures and their position
in the world, their awful responsibilities, the mystery of their
nature, strangely mixed of good and evil, pf strength and
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S88 NEWMAN AND LiTTLEMORE [Aug.,
weakness. A tone, not of fear, but of infinite pity, ran through
them all."
I am purposely citing the testimony of some who were
very far from following Newman into the Catholic Church.
Thus Dean Stanley tells us that, ^' There are hardly any
passages in English literature which have exceeded in beauty
the description of music, in his [Newman's] University Ser-
mons; the description of the sorrows of human life in his
sermon on the Pool of Bethesda; the description of Elijah on
Mount Horeb; or, again, in the discourses addressed to Mixed
Congregations: *The Arrival of St. Peter as a Missionary in
Rome ' ; the description of Dives as the example of a self-
indulgent voluptuary ; the account of the Agony in the Garden
of Gethsemane, and of the growth in the belief in the As-
sumption of the Virgin Mary."
And let me add Gladstone's tribute, which occurs in a
speech delivered at the City Temple on the subject of preach-
ing. Describing his recollection of Newman in the pulpit of
St. Mary's he says:
" His sermons were read, and his eyes were always bent
on his book, and . . . that, you will say, is against effi-
ciency in preaching. Yes, but you take the man as a whole,
and there was a stamp and a seal upon him; there was a
solemn sweetness and music in the tone; there was a complete-
ness in the figure, taken together with the tone and with the
manner, which made even his delivery, such as I have de-
scribed it, singularly attractive."
And who does not remember Anthony Froude's graphic
account of the thrill which went through the congregation
as Newman, after describing in simple but harrowing words
one of the incidents of the Passion, paused, and then, a few
seconds later, broke the tingling silence with the words, spoken
in low, suppressed tones : '' My brethren, I would have you
remember that he to whom these things were done was AU
mighty God." Many, adds Froude, no doubt dated a new era
in their spiritual life from that moment.
Principal Shairp has well observed that when, in 1843,
that spare, ascetic form and saintly countenance and that voice
of unearthly charm were seen and heard for the last time in
the University pulpit, '* It was as when to one kneeling by
night, in the silence of some vast cathedral, the great bell toll-
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I906.] NEWMAN AND LiTTLEMORE 589
ing solemnly overhead has suddenly gone still." **Who," asks
Matthew Arnold, '' could resist the charm of that spiritual
apparition, gliding in the dim afternoon light through the
aisles of St. Mary's, rising into the pulpit, and then, in the
most entrancing of voices, breaking the silence with words and
thoughts which were religious music, subtle, sweet, mournful.
Happy the man who in that susceptible season of youth hears
such voices. They are a possession to him forever."
But a man who thus drew to himself the hearts of young
and old could not in the nature of things escape enmity, and,
as all the world knows, the hostility of the anti-Tractarians
was of the bitterest type. The Tracts^ of course, were the first
great battle cry, but later on the fight raged round that little-
read book, Froude*s Remmins, How many of those who daily
go past the " Martyrs' Memorial," near Balliol College, ever
reflect that its erection was caused by the publication of that
book? And yet so it was. The list of subscribers to the
memorial was to be the test as to who was on one side, who
on the other. At first the building was to be a church. This
was the resolution come to by the '' Cranmer Memorial Meet-
ing" on the 31st of January, 1839.
In a hitherto unpublished letter of Newman's, he writes
under date of February i : ''I expect most men will join it,
and it is held out to me what a shocking thing if Pusey, Keble,
and I are left alone in the whole Church. . . •
" It is most curious — people assume we are a party and say,
since you are a party, consider how injudicious you are towards
your cause, how unmindful of your interests. Now I have
never felt, never acted as having a party — so such an argument
is but an insult. I consider that nothing on earth will make
me subscribe to it — but I expect others will — though I don't
know — for I have asked no one, and do not know their feel-
ings. One thing is clear, that the scheme is an egregious fail-
ure as regards its first purpose, showing the feeling at Oxford.
If the residents come in, it will be forcibly."
The appeal for subscriptions was so framed as to induce men
so widely different as the furious anti-Tractarian Golightly and
the High Church champion Pusey. Newman, as we have seen,
would have nothing to do with the scheme, and more of his
friends followed his example than he appeared to expect.
However little the Memorial succeeded in showing the real feel-
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590 NEWMAN AND LJTTLEMORE [Aug.,
ing of the University, the promoters did not fail to note that
those who held aloof did not accept the old-fashioned Protest-
ant view of the Reformation. In the course of the letter just
quoted Newman speaks of the storm which Froude*s Remains
had aroused. "We seem/' he writes, ''in the thick of the
fight. The Heads of Houses much annoyed, the Bishops fright-
ened, the Conservatives disgusted, and the Whigs indignant.
I have not yet got to be dismayed, but it may be to come. I
have not repented one bit of dear Hurrell's Remains, though it
seems the Tracts are in certain high quarters taken up as per-
fection now, and the Remains made the scapegoat. The tone
of the Tracts is now perfect, but the Remains all that is un-
pleasant. Those who can recollect five years back, may hap-
pen to recollect that the tone of the Tracts was thought most
insulting, and the whole conduct of them most injudicious. Is
not the proof of the pudding in the eating ? And if so, may
we not claim some deference now from officious critics, on the
ground of success hitherto ? " In a letter written just a year
before (also hitherto unpublished) he writes: ** Froude's Re^
mains will be like the frost he describes, which, by its vigor,
hardens their roots. I do not wish the truth to spread too
fast, and this check seems (if one, may say so) providential.
Bold hearts will stand the gust, but the reeds are bending, and
the shallow may be uprooted."
But the day was close at hand when his own confidence in
his ecclesiastical position was to receive a shake from which it
never really recovered. It was in the autumn of 1839 that he
confided to his dear friend Henry Wilberforce, who was then
Perpetual Curate of Bransgore in the New Forest, the appear-
ance of that momentous " ghost," as he calls it in the Apologia,
which he had seen two months before. The "frightful sus-
picion" to which Wiseman's Dublin Review article had given
birth, was the beginning of the end. Thus does Henry Wil-
berforce relate the scene of its revelation to himself:
"It was in the beginning of October, 1839, that he made
the 'astounding confidence' which 'pierced the very soul (of
his friend) with grief and terror,' that doubts had crossed bis
mind as to whether the Anglican Church was really Catholic.
So careful was he not to suggest a misgiving to the minds of
others before he was absolutely certain that duty demanded of
him to do so, that he has left it on record, that for two years
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I906.] NEWMAN AND LiTTLEMORE 591
and four months after the frightful suspicion Strongly impressed
bis mind, he disclosed it to only two intimate friends. But
that 'suspicion' was the key to his whole conduct. It was in
the beginning of October, 1839, that he made the 'astounding
confidence/ mentioning the two subjects which had inspired the
doubt, the position of St. Leo in the Monophysite controversy,
and the principle, securus judical orbis terrarum, in that of the
Donatists. He added that he felt confident that when he re-
turned to his rooms and was able, fully and calmly, to con-
sider the whole matter, he should see his way completely out
of the difficulty. * But,' he said, ' I cannot conceal from my-
self that, for the first time since I began the study of theology,
a vista has been opened before me, to the end of which I do
not see.' He was walking in the New Forest, and he borrowed
the form of his expression from the surrounding scenery. His
companion (Henry Wilberforce himself), upon^ whom such a
fear came like a thunderstroke, expressed his hope that Mr.
Newman might die rather than take such a step. He replied,
with deep earnestness, that he had thought, if ever the time
should come when he was in serious danger, of asking his
friends to pray that, ii it was not indeed the will of God, he
might be taken away before he did it. Of such a danger mean-
while he spoke only as a possibility in the future, by no means
as of a thing that had already arrived."
It was nearly four years later, in May, 1843, that Newman
confided his trouble to his dear friend Keble. On May 16 he
writes thus to Henry Wilberforce : " I have just heard this
morning from K[eble] in answer to some miserable intelligence
I had to give him about myself."*
The letter continues: " Fwr., what you have known since I
was at B[ransgore]. The impressson has faded and revived
again and again — and strengthened. It was necessary to tell
him in honesty and propriety, and I shall in all things go im-
plicitly by his advice. But it is impossible to act in any way
without laying oneself open on one side or other to the great-
est misrepresentations of enemies, but they are not my judge.
K , I think, will recommend me most sorely against my feel-
ingst to go on just as usual. Everything external to my own
consciousness is most flourishing — men coming over, openings
• In or about 1876 the Cardinal, on reading the above 'letter, interlined this passage with
the words, •' that I was likely to be a Catholic."
t Interlined by the Cardinal, "own judgment," in or about 1876.
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592 Newman and Littlemore [Aug.,
occurring continually, lines of influence offered me, etc. Could
I trust myself I have a clear path;" These words throw a
flood of new light upon the completely voluntary nature of his
great renunciation.
Newman did contrive to settle his mind, but he was never
quite the same man. The Via Media^ as he tells us in his
Apologia^ was '' absolutely pulverized " by those four pregnant
words of St Augustine, and from that time he ceased to attack
Rome. '' Rome is the Church and we are the Church," was
then his line; but he gradually withdrew from every position
and means of influence in the University, and in the summer
of 1 841 he was settled, temporarily at least, in his cottage at
Littlemore. He had determined to put aside all controversy
and to set to work at his translation of St. Athanasius. ''But,"
as he tells us, " between July and November, I received three
blows which broke me." The first of these was the reappear-
ance of the " ghost." In the history of the Arians even more
than in that of the Monophysites the disturbing phenomenon
was present. The second blow was the hostility of the bishops,
which continued for three whole years. The case of the Jeru*
salem bishopric was the third blow. Against this Newman
sent a solemn protest to the primate and to his own bishop.
Looking back as a Catholic at this last question, he was
able to write that the project of the Jerusalem bishopric had
neither harmed nor benefitted any one, so far as he knew, ex*
cept himself, to whom it had been the greatest of mercies, as
bringing him nearer to the Catholic Church. His position with
reference to the Church of England, in November, 1841, is
expressed in a hitherto unpublished letter to Henry Wilber-
force, as follows: "It is," he writes, ''difficult at all times to
analyze one's feelings. However, you know them as well as
I can give them — and you have misunderstood me here: I
have no doubt, nor do I think I am likely to have, of the
salvability of persons dying in the English Church. But I
think that it still may be that the English Church is not part
of the Church Catholic; but only visited with overflowings of
grace — and that God may call some persons on to higher
things. They must obey the calling; but that proves nothing
against those who do not receive it. I have not a call at pres-
ent to go to the Church of Rome;* but I am not confl-
• Cardinal Newman added, in looking over this letter in 1876 or thereaboats : •* N. B. — I
meant I had not the motiva credibilitatis,*'
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i9o6.] Newman and Littlemore 593
dent I may not some day. But it seems to me that there is
something most unnatural and revolting in going over suddenly^
unless, indeed, a miracle is granted." He goes on to speak
of the action of the Protestant episcopate. ''The bishops are
sowing the seeds of future secessions. They speak all against
us or are silent. We have no thanks for ^hat is well done.
For eight years not a word of direct praise has been granted:
all that has been that way has been in mitigation of the sen-
tence. A jealous suspicion has been the only feeling. All
sorts of irregularity have been tommitted on the other side
impune. All sorts of liberties are taken with the services.
All sorts of heresies are promulgated. A curate of St. Mary —
Redcliffe, Bristol — lately, just after Pusey had been there, said
in the pulpit: 'That hell- born heresy of Pusey ism which has
of late appeared bodily amongst you.' Mr. Clifford took up
a volume of Tracts into the pulpit, and holding it out said :
* I denounce the authors as agents of Satan.' The bishop can
talk in his charge against Williams as 'an angel from heaven
with another gospel' — somewhat more complimentarily than
his clergy — yet he allows them — dat vettiatn cotvis^ vexat cen^
sura columbas. ... To complete it is this hideous Jeru-
salem affair — about which I suppose I shall publicly protest."*
No wonder indeed that, from the end of 1841, he was on his
death-bed as regards his membership with the Anglican Church,
and, as he adds, "a death- bed has scarcely a histoiy; it is a
tedious decline, with seasons of rallying and seasons of falling
back."
Meanwhile, the life which he and his disciples were leading
at Littlemore was in the last degree ascetic. In Lent their
first meal of the day was at five o'clock in the evening and
consisted of salt fish. But nature could not be so outraged for-
ever, and when one of the number became seriously ill, a noon-
day breakfast was added of bread-and-butter and tea. New-
man's idea of what any person in ordinary health could do in
Lent may well make men of a more indulgent age feel some-
what ashamed. In a letter written a few days after Ash
Wednesday, 1842, to a friend who had consulted him as to
what he should do in Lent, he says: "As to your question
about yourself, though I know perfectly well that leaving off
the least things is at first a greater trial to strength, or at
• From an unpublished letter.
VOL. LXXXIII«~38
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594 NEWMAN AND LiTTLEMORE [Aug.,
least to vigor, than could be supposed, yet I think a person
plight anyhow leave off in Lent, butter, milk, sugar, pastry,
fruit, etc., and rather take medicine {e. g,^ quinine) than wine,
if it answers the same purpose."
Visitors to the row of cottages — separate now — are still
shown the bare, plain room in which, standing up at a desk,
j(*Tewman penned the last book of his Anglican life — the book
which brought him from his death-bed, as he calls it, to a
glorious resurrection in the Church of God. Day by day, as
he wrote, his disciples watched him, and to their wonder-
ing eyes he seemed to grow more and more attenuated and
diaphanous with each day. At length came the end — the har-
bor after the storm. Father Dominic, the Passionist, was in
the neighborhood, and Newman invited him to Littlemore.
The holy priest may perhaps have had some notion of what
that invitation meant, though Newman tells us that he did
not know its full import. As De Quincey observes, " blended
and intertwisted in this life are occasions of laughter and of
tears," and Father Ambrose St. John was never tired of re-
lating a scene which took place as the coach bringing Father
Dominic to Oxford stopped outside the Mitre on that memor-
able 8th of October, 1845. '^^^ ^^^^ was pouring down in
torrents. The streaming guard, with an eye to something
warm on that dank, bleak evening, touched his hat to the
simple priest with, "Remember the guard. Sir."
'' Yes " ; said Father Dominic in his broken English, ** I will
remember you in my Mass.'' Ambrose St. John soon explained,
and Father Dominic handed the man a penny. The guard re-
ceived it like the laborers in the vineyard, with a murmur.
** Give him more," whispered St. John.
Another penny was placed in the guard's palm. Murmurs
more forcible still proceeded from his lips.
" More," reiterated St. John.
Another penny was given. This time the execrations be-
came louder and more vehement.
" That's not enough. You must really give him more," said
St. John.
•'I will not give him more," protested Father Dominic.
*' The more I do give him, the more he do swear."
At length Littlemore was reached, and Father Dominic was
admitted into the cottage. Even to the present day the visitor is
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I906.] NEWMAN AND LiTTLEMORE 595
still shown the fire-place at which the Italian Passionist strove to
dry his drenched clothes and warm his frozen limbs. So, too,
one can see the spot on which Newman, hastily summoned from
the adjoining room, threw himself on his knees before the priest
of God and begged admittance into the One Fold of the Re-
deemer. Yes; one can see the spot where this occurred, but
not the actual place which was pressed by Newman's knees,
for the bare bricks, which were good enough for him, have
since been covered for the present occupant by a less uncon-
genial floor. In all other respects the fixtures of the room
are the same — the panelled walls, the homely doors, and the
cupboards once crammed with books.
That night the neophytes spent in prayer, and on the morn-
ing of the 9th Mass was celebrated on an altar stone bor-
rowed from the little Chapel of St. Ignatius, St. Clement's.
One by one after this the community at Littlemore melted
away. Those who could not follow their master walked no
more with him, and either remained in the Church of England
or after a time lapsed into Liberalism. The knot of men who
were received at the same time as Newman lingered for the
most part by his side, and Sunday after Sunday accompanied
him across the fields to Mass. But a continued residence at
Littlemore, perfectly as it would have suited Newman's own
taste, would after all have been meaningless and without point.
Newman, indeed, though full of energy, looked upon his career
as ended, and little dreamed that a good half of his life still
remained, in which he was to leaven the educated part of the
English people with Catholic teaching. Gradually, and perhaps
reluctantly, his countrymen agreed, first, to forgive Newman
for his secession, and then, when the Apologia appeared, to
begin to understand it.
To the utterly un-English mind of Disraeli, his conversion
remained a mystery^— a '^ blunder,'' as he said, " which has
been apologized for, but never explained." Newman, to whom
the politician's ways were hateful, retorted that he could no
more expect his motives to be grasped by a politician than he
could expect a chimpanzee to give birth to a human baby.
Meanwhile appeared the great book, The Essay on Devel-
opment ^ the writing of which had completed the work of con-
version. Allies tells us how eagerly he and others looked for
ity and its author was not the only one by many hundreds
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596 NEWMAN AND LiTTLEMORE [Aug,,
who owed their conversion to this work of monumental genius.
November, Christmas, and the New Year found Newman still
at Littlemore. At length, in February, 1846, he said farewell
to his beloved home and to the little church which his mother
had founded. To him it seemed '^ like going away on the
open sea."
He traveled direct to Maryvale, and his mind so wedded
to symbolism did not fail to note that the English Church ser-
vice, which he had known for so many years, commemorated on
this his last morning at Littlemore, the Call of Abraham, while
the first office after he reached Maryvale was that of St Mat-
thias who entered later than his brethren into the work of an
Apostle. A still more striking coincidence, unknown then to
any one in England, was that on the very day that he, New-
man, was received into the Church, the unhappy Renan turned
his back upon St. Sulpice.
For many years, as we know, Newman never saw Oxford
again '' excepting its spires, as they are seen from the rail-
way." Then, on February 26, 1878, after an absence of just
thirty- two years, he revisited the University as the guest of
his first College, Trinity — the College that "had never been
unkind" to him — and from the windows of what had been his
freshman's rooms there, he looked once more at the wall on
which the snap-dragon grew, and where in due season it still
flowers, to remind Oxford of her greatest son.
But the visit which in June, 1868, he paid to Littlemore,
was a private one, and its incidents have never before been
published. A groom in the employment of Mr. Crawley, a
Littlemore landowner, once a South American merchant, no-
ticed one day two gentlemen standing near the lich gate of
the church. One, the elder, wore a long overcoat and his
hat was drawn over his face as if to conceal his features. He
was crying bitterly and seemed to be in great distress. The
groom caught sight of his face and instantly guessed that the
gentleman was none other than Newman. He hastened to tell
his master who was ill in bed. Mr. Crawley told the man he
must be mistaken, but the servant maintained that he was
not, and asked Mr. Crawley to let him look at a photograph
which he had. On seeing this the groom was fully confirmed
in his opinion. Mr. Crawley bade him go again to the church
and try to ascertain whether it was indeed Newman. The two
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I906.] NEWMAN AND LiTTLEMORE 597
gentlemen were in the churchyard when the groom arrived,
and on the question being asked, ''Are you a iriend of Mr.
Crawley ? " Newman, for it was he, again burst into tears.
"Mr. Crawley wishes to see you. Sir," said the groom.
" But he is too ill to leave his room ; will you please to come
and see him ? "
''Oh, no; oh, no!" exclaimed Newman. His companion,
who was Father Ambrose St. John, tried to persuade him, but
he only repeated earnestly, " Oh, no ! "
At length St. John told the groom to carry back word to his
master that Dr. Newman would come presently; which he did,
and he remained in conversation with Mr. Crawley for some time.
After this he went round and visited several of his old
parishioners, but whether he looked again at the room where
Father Dominic had received him into the Church is not re-
corded.*
When Newman left Littlemore, in 1846, he sold to Mr.
Crawley the seven acres on which he had planned to build his
monastery. The trees which the visitor sees now were planted
by Newman. The monastery, the founder stipulated, was to.
have a view towards Garsington. Will such a foundation ever
be made by Catholics in that spot, in memory of one who has
done so much to spread the Faith in England? Perhaps not;
but at least the cottage at Littlemore should be in Catholic
hands, and in the hands of those who love Newman. Catho-
lics alone can appreciate the full, the stupendous import of
that quiet, hidden scene which there took place, when the hum-
ble Italian missioner enrolled in the glorious ranks of God's
deathless Church the most brilliant genius of the century, who
from being the foremost man in the University of Oxford had
by his own act, and in obedience to his conscience, become a
pilgrim and a stranger to his own land.
In one of the guest-rooms at the Edgbaston Oratory there
hangs a print — a bird's-eye view of Oxford. Over it is the
text from Ezekiel : " Fill hominis putasne vivent ossa ista f "
Could any wit of man devise a more appropriate text for this
once Catholic University? And how can one reply except
by quoting the rest of the passage, on the picture's lower
frame? — ** Domine Deus^ tu nosti^
• I am indebted for this interesting incident to the kindness of the Rev. Canon Irvine,
the present Vicar of Littlemore.
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NARCISSUS.
BY JEANIE DRAKE,
"Author of /ft Old St. Stephen's, The Metropolitans, etc.. etc.
Chapter VIII.
r might have been something in Will's tone that
upbraided; or, which was more likely, it might
have been simply his own choice that led Philip
oflF with Jack for several days after this on var-
ious pedestrian excursions into the mountains,
leaving Marjorie in the meanwhile a rather silent companion
for her aunt and Will. But seli-denial was a bore, he finally
decided; and a glimpse he caught of Marjorie's graceful head
at a window, bending over her book, determined him on throw-
ing down his hat again, though he was to meet Jack in town.
'' It is much better fun," he argued in calm, judicial fash-
ion, "to hear her talk and see her smile than looking at some
tiresome ruins." So, he leant towards the girl, and watched
her swift color at hearing him so unexpectedly close to her.
'' What a curious old volume. Miss Fleming ; is it about St.
•Vidian?"
" No " ; she answered, smiling brightly, ** it is an old chroni-
cle I unearthed from that dark closet under the staircase. I
believe the last de Rochefort took great care of the family
records, and religiously preserved everything of the kind. So
Jeanneton tells me, and she was here when he died. A sort of
recluse, she says, and spent much of his time with these old
books. This one is principally about Sir Hugues, whose pic-
ture you see there — that dark, savage-looking man, and that is
his wife. Dame Jacqueline, beside him ; and I think you could
almost read their story in their faces."
"From which I gather," seating himself beside her, "that
Sir Hugues has not your approval?"
"Oh, I think he was a brute. Will declares" — laughing —
"that I make a solemn visit to his picture every night for the
pleasure of shaking my fist in his face. I will confess that I
have felt now and then like giving Dame Jacqueline a kiss,
she looks so young and sweet, and she had such a hard time
with that old monster."
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I906.1 NARCISSUS 599
" I can well understand your temptation to— to give her a
kiss, did you say? She looks like you.''
Only the deepened damask of her fair cheek showed that
she heard him.
" See here/' she said hastily, " look at this picture of a
tournament What long noses all the ladies have, and how they
simper. And see what a little bit of a knight has upset two
big ones, and how proud he looks.''
'' That is, no doubt, his lady with the long veil falling from
the leaning tower of Pisa on her head; and she is looking at
him and he drinks courage from her eyes."
" But how about this wounded knight on the ground ? Why
did not he gain strength from his lady's presence — for that is
certainly she who is swooning away there cbmfortably in the
corner and nobody noticing her."
"She had no eyes," said Philip, "or else" — looking into
hers — "they were not large, soft, brown ones." The half-
startled glance which now met his made him rather glad when
Jack burst in full of noisy reproaches for his defection.
* " And, Marjorie, if you, too, had come," he declared loudly,
"instead of mooning here over that musty book, you would
have had some fun. There was a fellow in the town all the
way from Clermont with a lot of trained birds; and it is sur-
prising what he can make them do. Draw little carriages,
shoot off guns, play dominoes, drink coffee — everything in fact.
I mean to have him up here some day."
Later in the evening Will called to Marjorie : " Come out,"
he said,
" ' Come out and hear the waters shoot, the owlet hoot, the
owlet hoot.
Yon crescent moon, a golden boat, hangs dim behind the
tree, O !
The dropping thorn makes white the grass, O sweetest lass,
and sweetest lass.
Come out and smell the ricks of hay adown the croft with
me, O ! ' "
Marjorie leaned out smiling with pleasure, not at the speak-
er but at the lines. " Where are your ' ricks of hay ' ? " she
asked joyously, "for it is early mowing in the month of May."
"You will see your sweetheart before the summer-time,"
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6oo Narcissus [Aug.,
declared Jack solemnly, *' for, Marjorie, my dear, you have just
made a rbyme."
"Come out; come out!" Will kept repeating.
" And why ? " she asked.
" Because it is a lovely night, transcendently. Because it is
a night not meant for slumber. Because the Garonne's waters
flow shimmering beneath the radiant moon. Because it is but
a short walk to the river bank. Because, finally, Philip, Jack,
and I purpose to row you where you will."
"You are all angels!" she cried with enthusiasm. "Come,
Auntie, get your hat."
" Not I, my dear," said Mrs. Fleming. " I should rather
have my lamp and book at this hour than any river or moon,
full, half, or crescent. The boys will take care of you ; and,
Marjorie, wrap my large white shawl around your head and
shoulders. It may be chilly on the water."
"The Ltly Maid," Will said jestingly, when she joined them,
her eyes shining from a snowy hood, and the silken folds of
her drapery outlining her slight figure. She took his arita, but
peeded more support, doubtless, down that steep hill, for she
laid her hand on Philip's, also, when he offered :it. He sat
farthest from her when they reached the boat, however, for it
was a fixed principle with him to take no unnecessary trouble ;
and as the night was warm for rowing, he took the tiller rope,
while Marjorie had a pile of cushions placed for her. A few
vigorous strokes and they were out in mid- stream, the water
rippling and splashing in silvery curves as their bow went
cleaving through it.
"'The little waves went sobbing round the boat,'" quoted
Marjorie, taking off her rings to lean over and let the waters
run swiftly through her fingers. " But Undine did not live
anywhere near here. I wonder if there is no nymph belong-
ing especially to this river. No * Sabrian fair,' no * Lore ' to
bewitch the fishermen."
"There is a fish," said Will, resting on his oars. "A very
large fish. He has big, glassy, staring, goggle eyes; and he
lies all day under a rock down there until he is hungry, and
then he comes out and eats up the little fishes. I interviewed
him once at the end of a rod and line, and he swam lazily up
to the bait, smelled it, and then turning his head on one side
winked slowly. I wake up and think of that wink in the silent
-'itches of the night."
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i9o6.] Narcissus 6oi
"After that wink/' averred Philip, with languid interest,
^' you should have caught him if it had been necessary to swim
and dive."
'' How is that for a panorama, Marjorie ? " asked Jack, in
tones much lower than were usual with him.
It was a scene well calculs^ted to impress even his careless
nature. On the one side high white walls and towers and ruins
stood out in bold relief against the dark thickets around, appear-
ing to glide past them as they went on. On the other the
town lay, its black, grimy houses seeming actually to be walk-
ing, very crookedly, down the slope into the river, some of them
conMng so near the edge as even to overhang it. All around the
horizon stretched mountain peaks, gleaming whitely far and
vague and dim, like the ghosts of mountains; and through the
dark, mysterious heavens above sailed the fair moon, calm and
holy, and beautifying all visible beneath her. Evetywhere
brooded stillness, the town being as quiet and motionless as
the enchanted city of the Sleeping Princess, except across the
fields, Where the potters' furnaces, burning always, sent up their
lurid columns
" I say. Will," Jack remarked presently, taking a moment
to breathe, " it's hard work rowing against the current. Let's
go round that bend, up past the mill, and then we can float
back and rest awhile."
"What has become of Nicolette, Miss Fleming?" asked
Philip, looking over at the great mill wheel at rest for the
night. " I have not seen her lately."
**She was up at the chateau yesterday," answered Mar-
jorie, " she is busy getting ready for her wedding next month.
J£tienne is furnishing a pretty cottage for her near the mill,
so that she may not be too far from her father, as she is all
he has."
**'Do you know, Marjorie," said Will, "when I was walk-
ing at dusk in that little lane by the blacksmith's, I thought
I saw Pedro lurking behind an old brick wall."
" Oh, impossible ! — with decision — "he would not dare to
come to Martres after the affair on St. Vidian's day. Even if
Etienne did not find him, some of the other men might see
him, and he would be mobbed."
"Well" — indifferently — "I suppose I was mistaken."
They reached the spot where they were to turn, and then
commenced to float back towards the mill. Philip, who had
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6o2 Narcissus [Aug.,
been staring bard at it for some minutes, said suddenly : ** Will,
do you see tbose black figures moving about inside the mill
enclosure? I fancied I saw them when we passed before. Is
it any of the family, do you think?"
*' No " ; answered Will, " it is after eleven, and everybody
in Martres is asleep at eight ; there is no light in any of the
windows. I do see them plainly, and they cannot be there
for any good. Quick, Jack, the oars again 1 We must, save
Mattre S^bastien from thieves."
" It is 'Colette's window they are under ! " said Marjorie
in sudden alarm.
"You don't really think. Miss Fleming," asked Philip, in-
clined to laugh, "that it is Nicolette they are after? These
are not the days of young Lochinvar."
" No " ; said Marjorie, her heart beating fast," but we are
in the Pyrenees, affd you do not know Pedro. He is a terrible
man. 'Colette has tdd me things about him. He would com-
mit any crime if he could secretly."
"By heaven, Marjorie," cried Will, "you arc right! It is
a rope ladder they are fastening to the wall. On, Jack, row
like mad ! " And there was dead silence for a moment or two
as the boat flew through the water, driven on by their power-
ful strokes.
" Now, Jack," said Will, as they stopped at the foot of the
mill grounds, " stay in the boat and take care of Marjorie,"
and he and Philip sprang ashore and disappeared up the path.
" You may stop. Jack, if you choose," said Marjorie, " but
I am going too," with emphasis; and stepping out of the boat,
she followed the others without an instant's hesitation. Jack,
whose soul was eager for the fray, followed her, perforce,
though most willingly.
Before the young men reached the scene of action, Pedro
and his companion had finished their preparations. One dark
figure was stationed at the foot of the ladder, while Pedro
had already climbed halfway up, a thick rug over one shoul-
der with which to stifle 'Colette's probable screams."
" Hist, Pedro ! " called his companion suddenly, " I hear
Footsteps. Carramba ! Down ! They are coming this way ! "
Pedro had barely time to scramble down before Will's
strong grasp was on his shoulder ; but the agile mountaineer,
''ot to be taken by surprise, twisted himself away, leaving bis
et in his adversary's hands. He stopped one instant in
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I906.J Narcissus 603
his flight to draw a dagger; but seeing a third figure now
appear, decided that the odds were too great and sped away
down the road. Philip was already returning from an un-
availing pursuit of the other man, and Marjorie leaned against
a doorway excited and glad at this rapid routing of the mau-
rauders. Suddenly she sprang forward and threw up her
arm in front of Philip ; and a missile of some kind, whizzing
through the air, struck her on the wrist.
''It is nothing/' she said quickly, hiding it in the folds of
her wrap. " I saw one of the men stoop down on the road
and pick up something and aim at Mr. Carhart; and I know
how unerringly the men about here throw even a small stone."
" Stop 1 " cried Will, throwing his arms about Jack, who
would have rushed in pursuit down the moonlit path. '' It is
of no use. Those men know every step of ground round here,
and would have you at a disadvantage from behind some dark
corner. Besides, after throwing that stone, he will have fled
away far enough."
" It is worse than a stone," said Jack, holding it up. " It
is a sharp, broken bit of the crockery they throw about the
roads here ; and it would have been bad for you, Philip, if it
had struck your temple, as I suppose he intended."
" It might have killed me," said Philip quietly.
" Marjorie ! " cried Will, with quick anxiety, " my darling ! *'
— quite reckless now of hearers — " let me see your arm."
"No"; she persisted, keeping it resolutely held down at
her side in its wrappings. " It is nothing — just a little cut.
I will get 'Colette to tie it up for me."
Nicolette's frightened face had appeared long ago at her
window; lights were gleaming about the house; and now
Maitre S^bastien's burly figure, in very imperfect toilet, showed
in the doorway, with a candle in one hand and a big, rusty,
old-fashioned pistol in the other.
"Who is there?" he cried. "Speak, or Til fire!"
"No, don't !" called Jack, " or "— sotto voce— "you'll blow
your own head off with that old blunderbuss ! "
" It is we, Maitre S^bastien," explained Will, coming for-
ward. "We saw, from the river where we were boating, that
an attempt was being made to rob your house ; and we came,
fortunately, in time to prevent it, though the thieves escaped."
" Mire de Dieu ! " exclaimed the miller in utter bewiWcr-
ment. "Rowing on the river! At this hour! Thieves!"
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6o4 Narcissus [Aug.,
And then his eyes, traveling slowly about, fell on the rope
ladder at the side of the house. '' And what is that ? " he
marveled.
'Colette, looking over her father's shoulder, saw it also for
the first time, and gave a shriek.
"You are quite safe now," said Philip reassuringly, ''but
as you should know the truth — it was that man Pedro, with
a companion ; and it looks — it looks like an attempt to frighten
you into giving up Etienne."
''And you, ckire Mademoiselle, and you Messieurs," said
'Colette, with tearful eyes, "have saved, me from that wicked
man ! "
** Mademoiselle et Messieurs^** said the miller waving his can-
dle about and beginning an oration, but Will cut him short.
" I am anxious about my cousin, Maitre Sebastien," he told
him, "her arm has been hurt Let us go into the house and
see about it."
Nicolette led the way into the kitchen and brought a light,
by which they were all shocked to see how pale Marjorie
looked, and how completely the folds of the wrappings about
her arm were saturated with blood. There was a somewhat
deep cut above the wrist, from which the blood kept welling,
to Will's great alarm ; but a piece of plaster soon stopped
this; and the arm was skillfully bandaged by 'Colette, with
many expressions of sympathy.
'* Now, Marjorie, you are not to come home with us to-
jiight," said Will decidedly. "All this pain and excitement
will have exhausted you, and 'Colette can give you a bed.
Mother will have gone to her room, and we need tell her
nothing of the accident until morning, when she and some of
us can come for you."
Nicolette was eager with her offers of hospitality, and so
the matter was settled. " Who knows," Will explained further
to Philip, " those fellows are notoriously vindictive — might give
us trouble on the way back; and Marjorie shall fiot be har-
assed further."
Then the young men went off to their boat, while the mil-
ler stationed himself for the rest of the night in his doorway
with his pistol, though every one was of opinion that another
attack for that night was out of all possibility. Jack returned
presently, leading Pedro's mule, which he had discovered tied
in the thicket, and which he advised Maitre Sebastien to se-
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J906.] NARCISSUS 605
questrate; and Philip excused himself to Will for a few mo-
ments, while he went back into the kitchen for a forgotten
handkerchief, he said; and then they took a final leave, and
quietude settled down once more over the mill and itis inmates.
Chapter IX,
If the flowers in the garden, as Marjorie sometimes fanci-
fully imagined, had natures to feel and suffer, they must have
looked on Philip Carhart as a very Attila, a scourge of God,
next morning, as he walked among them with a small switch
in his hand decapitating a score ot them occasionally in the
most savage and ruthless manner. It was a very unusual
thing for him to be up at all before breakfast time, for he had
an aversion to the morning dew ; and he looked out of humor,
if an impartial critic had been judging. ''Was it a dream,"
he was asking himself, "that he had left the others on some
trivial pretext, and gone back into the mill kitchen where
Marjorie chanced to be alone for a few seconds? Had he
really said some very wild things to her about his gratitude,
and — and yes — more than gratitude? Had he actually touched
with his lips the white arm where the sleeve was rolled above
the bandage ? Could he have been so foolish ? Good hea-
vens! it must have been the moonlight.. Well, his head was
quite clear this morning; and, by Jove! he was getting tired
of Martres and of every one in it, and only wanted a decent
pretext to get away. The days began to grow very tedious*
and he was distinctly bored lately. One could probably find
something of interest in Paris, now." And the fates seemed
propitious to his desire; for, just at this juncture Pierre came
shuffling across the courtyard with a letter for "M'sieu."
"Ah" — his contentment quite restored, glancing over it a
second time — "the gods, as ever, are on my side, even in
trifles. Adams 'is worn out and needing change of air. Plen-
ty of work on hand, and your presence required.' Just the
excuse I was wishing for," smiling in his usual self-confldent
manner, as he put the letter into his pocket. " I will make my
adieux some time to-day and be off by the afternoon diligence
to catch the train at Cahors."
Great was Mrs. Fleming's concern on being gradually told
at breakfast time of the cause of Marjorie's absence, and she
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6o6 NARCISSUS [Aug.,
was for starting at once to seek her, when in walked that
maiden herself, smiling though pale, and her arm in a sling.
"Well," cried Jack, "you are a fraud! Here is mother,
like the needy knife-grinder's friend, with tears trembling on
her eyelids; and the rest of us prepared to form in sad pro*
cession and go to the mill and act as nurses for you; and
you walk in, quite beaming, as if last night's proceedings had
been the best joke in the world 1 "
" Don't make so much noise, my dear boy," she said sooth*
ingly. " Will, the doctor you routed out of his comfortable
bed at that unearthly hour came up and arranged a more
scientific bandage on my arm; told me to wear it in a sliog
for a day or two, and it would soon be all right. And now
you must, every one, dress yourselves in festal attire and get
some flowers, and hunt up something useful or ornamental to
give as a present."
" What for ? " they all asked.
" For 'Colette's wedding I " was the answer.
" 'Colette's 'Wedding ? " cried Jack, " why you said it was
not to come off until next month."
"Neither it was. But Etienne, when he heard of last
night's attempt, came up to the mill quite wild. He looked
literally black when he spoke about Pedro. ' Ldche ' he called
him, and said something else which sounded, I am afraid, like
swearing. He had a talk with 'Colette, and then came to me:
' Mademoiselle/ he said, ' it is not that I am afraid of any
more trouble with that villain. He will never dare show his
face again; he has been in hiding since St. Vidian; and now
he will know better than ever not to come back. But it is an
outrage — all of it, and I want 'Colette safe in my care. Her
father is old, and why should he be fretted as he was last
night? I want her to marry me to-day.' * To-day!' — I was
astonished ; but he said it should be to-day or never ; for, if
Nicolette persisted in refusing, why he would sell his share in
his father's business and works, and go away from Martres
not to come back. And would not I persuade 'Colette? I
thought best to talk Maitre Sebastien over first, and then oar
combined weight was too much for Nicolette, and she con-
sented, though she is almost distracted at the hurry. I left
her commencing preparations, and Etienne has gone to tell
the cur^ and the bell-ringers, and to don his holiday garb.
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i9o6.] Narcissus 607
Every one seems to know about it, and there is great excite-
ment."
•* Bless me ! " cried Jack, " if I bad only known in time,
we could bave bired Baptiste's trap and gone in style to tbe
wedding."
"Considering tbe looks of tbose borses of bis, I sbould
call it better style to walk," commented Mrs. Fleming.
Tbey all set off for tbe cbuVcb in tbe gayest of moods,
only Marjorie seeming a little languid and making Will, wben
be noticed ber pallor and wistful looks, wisb tbat it was for
him tbat she bad been hurt. Certainly the whole town must
bave known of tbe wedding and of last night's happenings,
and it was well for Pedro the muleteer, judging from expres-
sions dropped by excited, hurrying groups, that de bad taken
himself beyond their reach, for Nicolette and Etienne were
prime favorites in Martres. Every one seemed going towards
tbe church, and even M^re Veronique stood in her dingy por-
tal and regretted loudly tbat she could not leave ber angel,
Pierrot, who did not appear to be in bis usual happy frame of
mind this morning.
Tbey had some time to wait in tbe church, and then tbe
sound of violins and hautbois was beard, and tbe musicians
came in preceding tbe bridal party. 'Colette looked very
pretty, though frightened; Etienne a trifle fierce; and Maitre
Sebastien's jovial features wore the extremely funereal and de-
jected expression which he conceived to be the proper thing
for the bride's father. Tbe ceremony was short, but the good
cur^ delivered a discourse very kind, very paternal, very in-
structive, but also very long. Tbat, too, was over after awhile,
to every one's delight ; and then all tbe townspeople who were
invited, and most of them were, went up to tbe mill for a
dance.
Tbe family from tbe chateau, and Marjorie especially, were
the guests of honor; and while Mrs. Fleming was installed in
the miller's own great armchair, Marjorie was forced, after
Etienne bad led the first dance with bis bride, to dance tbe
second with him as well as she could, slowly and with the use
of but one hand. Then she sat in a high- backed chair by tbe
great chimney-piece, while Will took out 'Colette, and Jack
capered round with any of tbe girls reckless enough to risk
life and limb as his partner.
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6o8 NARCISSUS [Aug.,
"You do not dance, Mr. Carhart?" Marjorie asked, looking
up at him.
" Indeed, no " ; he said calmly, '' it always looks foolish to
me.
" Is it possible ? Now / can waltz all night usually. But,
perhaps, with you, it is a case of * The Tenth don't, etc' "
"Not at all" — loftily, and coloring a little, for he did not
approve being laughed at — "I waltz sufficiently well when I
am compelled; but I think it — ah — well, a little inconsistent
with the higher branches of the learned professions. Suppos-
ing one were a judge, in time, one would as soon expect a
bishop to waltz."
This dignified attitude in Will or any one else, in prepara-
tion fof an uncertain elevation, would have entertained Marjorie
mightily. But it was Philip Carhart who was talking nonsense.
Besides, she was thinking more of last night, when she had
been sitting in this very same place. Ah, last night 1 Was it
pleasure or pain now, or both together, she felt while the music
changed into a slow and dreamy waltz ? She could never hear
"La Glycine" again with indifference.
" Is it quite safe to let your Cousin Jack dance ? " Philip
asked carelessly, looking at the youth. "That is the fourth
couple he has run into headlong; and they assure him that it
is of no consequence, does not matter in the least, that they
rather enjoy it, in fact. But that poor girl who is his partner,
she will be killed."
" She appears to enjoy it, then. Look how she laughs !
She is very pretty, don't you think ? "
"N — no; she is healthy-looking and blooming, but not
pretty. There are some other faces here with more expression.
Have you noticed that the women of this province are sallow
for the most part, depending largely on animation for looking
well? But, in fact, when one has recently seen a face with
beautiful features and complexion, informed as well with soul,
it spoils one for inferior types" — this with caressing intention.
" I am not sure," said Marjorie, with some effort, " that I
should care to look like Maud — 'faultily faultless'. But there
is no danger; Jack is always reminding me that my nose has
heavenly aspirations."
" It is that slight irregularity that makes it all so piquant
— so perfectly charming ! " — undeterred by an upward glance of
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I906.] NARCISSUS 609
reproof. For was he not going away that afternoon ; and what
difference did it make — to him, at least ? In the meantime,
"/^ rot s^amusait.**
Presently a march was played, and the bride and groom led
the way into the adjoining room, where a hastily prepared col-
lation was laid. Healths were drunk in Maitre S^bastien's best
wine, and some little speeches made, a very kind one by
Will, and three or four by Jack, which were listened to with
respectful attention by the company, and with some alarm by
his mother, who feared that the dancing and the wine together
had been too much for him. Afterwards songs were sung by
Etienne and others, and the dancing commenced again. "They
will keep it up until late, Marjorie,'' said Will, " and you are
tired. Let us all go home to dinner."
So, after a little conference with 'Colette, the party slipped
away unobserved. Up the hill again together, Philip taking
Marjorie's hand once more. He looked at the fair scene above,
around, below him, and thought that, if he were sentimental,
he might now feel some little regret that it was the Jast time.
" Will," he asked abruptly, " do you remember a * Lebe^
wohr we used to chant at the university?"
"That's very definite, certainly," said Will, "considering
that German song abounds in 'farewells,' and that we used
to sing them by the score."
" Well, I don't recall whose this was. But the burden of
*Ade/ Ade ! * recurring continually, it struck me, was most
effective. I saw a free translation of it somewhere the other
day. The first verse runs somewhat like this:
" ' The fairest spring has but one May,
Good-bye !
The sweetest flowers last but a day.
And you and I can only say.
Good-bye, good-bye, good-bye.' "
" I do not think I like it," said Marjorie with a slight shiver
which he felt. " I hate ' good-bye ' in any case — even with
mere pleasant acquaintances. I want to hold on to them until
it is settled when I shall meet them again. I do believe
when I am dying I will turn to ask the nearest one there —
'and when shall I see you again?'"
VOL. Lxxxiii. — 39
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6lO NARCISSUS [Aug.,
"Do not ask me that, Marjorie," said Jack solemnly, "for
unless you are a better girl than you are now you may never
see me afterwards."
" Unless you are a better boy," remarked his mother,
" Marjorie will never take the trouble to help you in your love
affairs as she has Etienne. Listen to those joy-bells! How
sweetly they sound across the hills 1 "
And Master Jack fell to work to assure her with much
severity that no one need trouble about his wedding bells.
They would ring themselves. His only anxiety was that he
would be married off-hand, before he knew where he was, as
there were at least fifteen girls quite wild about him.
In the afternoon sunshine Marjorie stood in the courtyard
alone, leaning against the fountain, close to the broken nymph,
and strewed crumbs with her unhurt hand for the pigeons that
fluttered and pecked about her.
"Marjorie," called Jack, boisterously, near her, "did you
know that Mr. Carhart was going ? He has just received a
letter telling him that his partner is very ill and that he is
needed immediately, without one day's delay. His trunk is
packed and I am going now to send Pierre down to the dili-
gence with it. He is coming presently to say ' good-bye,* and
Will and I will see him off."
" I did not know," said Marjorie, moving quietly towards
the house. She went into the room with the portraits and
leaned on the window-sill gazing out without observing any-
thing. She started at his step on the gravel walk, and then
it rang along the corridor and he had entered the room and
was standing beside her, and his voice sounded in her ear.
" They will have told you, Miss Fleming, how hastily I
have been summoned away. It is a too sudden ending to a
delightful month ; but the claims of business, you know, are
imperative. I have said farewell to your aunt and thanked
her for her kind hospitality. To yourself it is difficult to ex-
press my appreciation of your kindness during my visit, and
my deep regret for the pain "-—lightly touching her bandaged
arm — " that I have involuntarily caused you. Let me wish
you a very pleasant remainder of the season; and, as I am
much hurried, I will say 'good-bye.'"
A few words murmured in answer — she knew not what —
a slight pressure on her hand, and he was gone* How long
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I906,] NARCISSUS 6u
she stood there at the window afterwards she never knew.
It might have been moments, or minutes, or hours even — it
was so like a dream. And this was the end ! A slight hand-
pressure — and ''good-bye." The end of wonderful hours to-
gether in this lovely land seen by the "light that never was
on land or sea." Of looks and tones that thrilled — of a thou-
sand words and actions meant — yes, she could be sure — for
her alone. "A delightful month, but then, you know, the
claims of business." " I thank you for a pleasant visit, and
good-bye." She laughed and was surprised to hear herself.
Then she remembered a phrase which Will had said was an
Eastern proverb: "This, too, will pass away"; and wondered
if it had a meaning. Then she found herself repeating:
" ' The fairest spring has but one May>
Good-bye !
The sweetest flowers last but a day,
And you and I can only say,
Goodbye, good-bye, good-bye.*"
And she suddenly pulled her wounded arm from the sling and
struck it sharply on the window-sill. Will, coming in after a
while, saw her white gown outlined against the fast waning
light.
" It was unexpected," he said, quietly approaching her," was
it not — Philip's going off so soon ? We saw him into the dili-
gence." Then, with quick alarm : " What is it, ^larjorie ?
You look quite white and — and strange ! And blood upon
your bandage I "
" It is only my arm," she said, forcing a smile. " I — I
hurt it somehow on the window." And he caught her in his
arms as she was falling.
"Mother! Jeanneton ! " he called, laying her on the lounge,
"will you see to Marjorie ? She is faint from last night's ex-
citement and to day's fatigue, and has hurt her arm again.
She ought to be in bed."
And while Mrs. Fleming ministered to Marjorie, and Jean-
neton bustled about her. Will went outside under the stars,
and used an expression about his college-mate and intimate
friend, then journeying comfortably towards Paris, which it is
to be hoped the recording angel did not hear.
(to be continued.)
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THE RELIGIOUS SITUATION IN FRANCE.
BY MAX TURMANN, LL.D.
^ NEW era for the Church has opened in France.
The Concordats which held sway since 15 16,
save for a short interruption during the revolu-
tionary period, have given way to a Government,
^ under which both Church and State are entirely
separate.
We wish to put before our readers the crisis which the
Church in France must face, and we sincerely believe that in
the end the Church will come forth rejuvenated and stronger
than ever.
We will review first of all the cause of this crisis, rehearsing
the origins of the separation of Church and State ; later we will
study the Government law, and show the policy adopted by the
French hierarchy with the approval of the Holy See.
The separation of Church and State was desired long since,
mi the one side, by a certain number of French Catholics who
cited Lacordaire and Montalembert in support of their attitude ;
on the other hand, by the greatest enemies of Catholicism —
the freemasons. There is no need to add that each of these
parties sought the separation from entirely different motives.
The former hoped for new power for the Church ; the latter
aimed at the destruction of Christianity.
Oae of the grievances which Catholics charged against the
Concordat, which since 1801 governed in our country the rela-
tions of Church and State, was that the Concordat gave to
the Government a voice in the choice of French bishops.
For example: when a vacancy occurred among the French bish-
oprics, the Government would present a candidate for the of-
fice to the Holy See. The Holy See would request its nuncio
at Paris to make inquiries concerning the Government's can-
didate. If, for one reason or other, the Holy See refused to
appoint the Government's candidate (and the Holy See never
gave a reason for its refusal) the Government \iould present a
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I9o6.] THE RELIGIOUS SITUATION IN FRANCE 613
new candidate to the Sovereign Pontiff. If the second candi-
date also was not accepted, the Government proposed a third,
and so on until some one was proposed who was agreeable to
Rome. When the Holy See and the French Government had
agreed upon a name The Official Journal of the French Republic
announced the name of the one who had been appointed to the
vacant see, and Rome then tendered him a canonical appoint-
ment. In short, under this system, the Government had a right
to present a candidate's name,* but ordinarily it proposed the
name only after an understanding with Rome. Newly appointed
prelates were obliged to swear allegiance to the Government.
With regard to this we will quote the sixth article of the Con-
cordat: "Before entering upon their office bishops will, ia
the presence of the First Consul, take an oath of fidelity ac-
cording to the custom prevailing before the change of Govern-
ment and in the following terms: 'I swear before God, and
upon the Holy Gospels, to obey and be faithful to the Govern-
ment established by the Constitution of the French Republic
I promise also to carry on no correspondence, to asssist at no
council, to take part in no association, either within or without
France, which may be contrary to the public peace, and that,
if I learn of any plot being formed, either in my diocese or
elsewhere, prejudicial to the State, I will make known the same
to the Government."* Selected by the Government, paid by
the State, bound to it by an oath of obedience, the bishops
resembled employees of the Government. The Government in-
terfered just as often in the nomination of the cur^s. The
Concordat, in article 10, says: "Bishops shall appoint the
cures"; but the grave restriction, immediately added, is that
"their choice is limited to persons who are agreeable to the
Government." Parish priests it will be seen, then, were ap
pointed in a manner analogous to the appointment of bishops.
In both cases no priest could become a bishop or cure with-
out the sanction of the Government.
These severe restrictions, to which Pius VII. had consented,
•There has been much discussion as to the extent ot this right. Articles 4 and 5 of the
Concordat, which relate to the choice of bishops, read : "Article 4 : The First Consul of the
Republic shall nominate within three months after the publication of the Bull by the Holy See,
candidates for the archbishoprics and bishoprics newly established. The Holy See will give
them canonical standing according to the forms prevailing in France before the change of
Government. Article 5 : The nominations to the bishoprics which will subsequently become
vacant will be made likewise by the First Consul, and canonical standing will be given by
the Holy See according to the preceding article."
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6 14 THE RELIGIOUS SITUATION IN FRANCE [Aug.,
in order to effect the restoration of religious peace in France,
were still further aggravated by the " Organic Articles/' against
which the Papacy has never ceased to protest, but which
the different Governments that have been in power during
the nineteenth century have always considered a law of the
State. These articles have greatly disturbed the Catholic life
of the country. They have been notably instrumental in pre-
venting cordial relations between the Church in France and the
Holy See — or, at least, they have subordinated these relations
to the surveillance of the State. No bull, no announcement
from Rome, no decree of a council — even of a general council
— could be published in France, no nuncio, legate, or vicar-
apostolic could exercise his authority without authoiization
from the Government. No bishop could journey to Rome, or
go outside of his diocese, unless he had first obtained per-
mission so to do from the minister of public worship. Subject
to the Government in the reports which they sent to the Holy
See, the bishops had no greater freedom in their communica-
tions with one another. They were forbidden to hold a coun-
cil or a provincial synod without the permission of the Gov-
ernment. They might not pass among themselves a common
letter, for that supposed a previous agreement; and this agree-
ment was illegal, because it would have been done without the
authorization of the public authorities; and our readers must not
think that this was an idle prohibition, for some years ago
many bishops were punished for just such an offence. When
a bishop was guilty of any of these acts considered criminal
by the Government, the Government called him before the
Council of State and charged him with an abuse of power. In
most cases the Council of State declared that the prelate had
abused his authority, and as a punishment tb^ bishop in ques-
tion would be deprived of his year's salary by the minister of
public worship. In short, this regime, when it was enforced
by secular authority, separated the bishops from the Holy See;
and, on the other hand, rendered impossible anything like
united action on their part.
Many of the French Catholics thought that the State de-
manded altogether too much for the meager material advantages
which it granted to the Church. They wished, therefore, that
the Concordat would be broken, and that Catholicism, free
from all State control, could live and increase in her complete
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,I906.] THE RELIGIOUS SITUATION IN FRANCE 6lS
freedom. ''Many Catholics/' writes M. Jean Guiraud in his
very interesting study,* " bore impatiently the restrictions with
which a suspicious Government dampened their zeal. It seemed
to them that if the Church were separated from the State, she
would enjoy her own liberty, and in that liberty find far more
favorable conditions for a better life. They were encouraged
in this belief by the marvelous growth of the Catholic Church
in such countries as the United States, England, and Belgium,
wherein there existed separation of Church and State. For
those Catholics, who are growing in number, the Concordat was
but a passing compromise, which sooner or later would disap-
pear and leave a State respectful of religious belief, and a
Church armed only with liberty."
Others also of the French people desired the breaking of
the Concordat, but for reasons entirely different. The free-
masons of France thought that the Church possessed great in-
fluence among the people, because of the ofHcial character of
the Concordat, and they hoped that Catholicism would lose
all prestige on the day that the State withdrew its support.
The masonic lodges did not conceal their anti- Christian pur-
pose. As early as 1885 one of the most influential of the
masonic representatives, M. Fernand Faure, declared:! "I
maintain that we must eliminate religious influence in what-
ever form it may express itself. I assert further that we ought
to eliminate all metaphysics, or, to speak more plainly, every
belief which is not founded upon science, or the observation of
facts, or on free reason itself, and which, therefore, escapes all
verification and discussion. Such beliefs are a veritable weak-
ness of the spirit of man." But the beliefs of which he speaks,
and which he says it is necessary to kill, are the beliefs ot
Christianity, and one with the Catholic Church. " The triumph
of the Galilean has endured for twenty centuries. The God-
liar has died in his turn. He is sinking in the dust of the
ages with the other divinities of Asia, Egypt, Greece, and
Rome, who have seen so many deceived creatures prostrate
themselves at the feet of idols. Brother Masons, it pleases
us to state that we have had our share in the ruin of these
false prophets. The Roman Church, founded upon a Galilean
♦This study, to our mind rather pessimistic, is published by V. Lecoffre, Paris, under the
title La Separation et Us Elections,
t Bulletin du Grand Orient 1883, p. 705.
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6i6 THE Religious Situation in France [Aug.,
myth, entered upon its rapid decay the very day that associa-
tions of freemasons were established." Such were the words
spoken to a masonic congress in 1903.* M. Delpech was then
president of the council of freemasons, and ever showed him-
self one of the most active members of the Senatorial major-
ity. The masonic ritual for the use of the novices or appren-
tices is still more precise and more brutally explicit, for, when
speaking in the name of the entire body of freemasons, it says :
''We declare ourselves to be the enemies of all priests and of
all religious." Inspired by such a hatred, freemasonry cannot
look upon the separation of Church and State, save as a mortal
blow given to Catholicism.
Since 1893 freemasonry had imposed upon all its members
the formal obligation of preparing in all its deliberative assem-
blies for the vote of separation. We read in the Bulletin du
Grand Orient \ that it is a strict duty of a freemason, if he be
a member of the municipal council, to vote for the suppression
of every allowance made to cur^s, vicars, or assistants, to over-
see all Church property and the possessions of the cur^s, and
to forbid the public celebration of religious festivals; if he be a
member of. the general council, to oppose every allowance
granted to a bishop, to seminaries, or to other diocesan estab-
lishments ; if he be a member of parliament, to vote against any
appropriation for religious worship, to vote for the withdrawal
of the ambassador to the Vatican, and to declare, on every oc-
casion, for the separation of Church and State, not neglecting
in the meanwhile to maintain the rights of supremacy of the State
over the Church.
Some of the freemasons feared, however, that the separation
would, in time, give a new force to Catholicism. As early as
1894 a freemason, M. Gadaud, senator, and since minister, relieved
them of these fears by allowing them to see what measures
would be taken to restrict the Church's liberty : } "It might
be feared," he said, " that the fervor and generosity of the
faithful would increase if the Church was once free and away
from the control of the State ; and in that case the Church
would be even a greater danger to the civil power. With well-
made laws, governing all associations, every peril of that kind
has been done away with."
• Cotnpie^rtndu du Couvent de igoj, p. 381. 1 1892, pp. 88 and 89.
X Compte-rendu du Couvent de iSg6t p. 397.
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I906.] .THE RELIGIOUS SITUATION IN FINANCE 617
Fifteen years ago, then, there were two parties in France
who called for the separation of Church and State. On the
one side, those Catholics who thought that the separation would
promote the strength of the Church; and on the other, the
adversaries of the Church, who saw in such a separation the
rapid decay of the Christian faith. Between these two inimical
parties there were some, sceptical and indifferent, who thought
that a regime of separation would be more in harmony with the
modem spirit. Such, for example, was Jules Simon. ''Separa-
tion,*' he said, "will, I believe, be advantageous when it is
possible. But when will it be possible ? When we have liberty
with the traditions of liberty." And recently M. Ribot ex-
pressed a similar sentiment, when he wrote: "So long as the
spirit of our people remains what it is, so long as our educa-
tion has made no great progress, so long as we have wandered
from the past tradition of liberty, so long will it be folly to
break the bonds that unite Church and State."
We have seen, then, that for many years separation was
favored by members of all political parties. Nevertheless, such
a measure was not demanded by the general public opinion.
It was put down in the* Chamber of Deputies by a large ma-
jority, and no minister, however radical, dared to demand a
vote on it. From the vote of the Chamber of Deputies, from
1887-1901, it will readily be seen that during those years there
was no commanding public opinion strongly in favor of separa-
tion. In fact, the demand for separation, judging from the vote
of the Chamber of Deputies, was less insistent in 1901 than it
was in 1887.
But freemasonry had put as the first work of its programme:
war against the Church. Every law that freemasonry favored
had for its ultimate object the breaking of the Concordat. "The
work will be completed," declares M. Masse, a freemason and
deputy of Ni^vre, " only when the bond that unites Church and
State is completely broken." The legislative elections of 1902
returned a majority that was under the influence of freemasonry.
This majority constituted the " Bloc," which was determined to
pursue a radical and anti- religious policy. Year after year free-
masonry nursed these coalitions, and united all the anti-clerical
elements. "If the 'Bloc' has been able to exist," declared M.
Masse, in the congress of 1903, " it is solely because throughout
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6l8 THE RELIGIOUS SITUATION IN FRANCE [Aug.
our lodges republicans and free-thinkers, who belong to different
schools and in many things are opposed to one another, have
been brought into harmony/' The masonic congress of 1903 sent
its congratulations to M. Combes, and promised him its fullest
support. In the last months of 1902 the freemasons composed
the majority of the Chamber, and were able to achieve that
for which they had long labored ; namely, the condemnation
of the Concordat, the suppression of the budget of religious
worship, and the separation of Church and State. In doing
these things, the anti- clericals threw the burden of responsi-
bility upon their victim — the Church, and endeavored to per-
suade the people that the public had been obliged to accept
the challenge laid down by the Church.
The crucial events that led immediately to the conflict be-
tween Church and State may be summarized as follows:
(i) The dispute concerning the nominations of bishops for
vacant sees.
(2) The journey to Rome of President Loubet.
(3) The resignation of the Bishops of Laval and of Dijon.
A short while alter the Holy See issued The White Book^^
containing the history of the events which led up to the
separation.
• See Catholic World, November, 1904.
(to be continued.)
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A HOLIDAY RAMBLE IN TOKYO.
BY A. LLOYD, M.A.
Tokyo, 22d March, 1906.
ESTERDAY was a Japanese National Holiday—
the Festival of the Vernal Equinox — and all la-
bor, at least all educational labor, ceased through-
out the land.
I had some calls to make, and a meeting to
attend. I will tell you first about the commissions; the calls
and the committee meeting will not interest you, but some
of the sights I saw on my way may be worth recording.
The first purchase that I wished to make was a rat-trap.
Tokyo swarms with rats, in spite of all the precautions taken
by our municipality, which offers a reward of three sen a head
for every rat taken to the police station (an oflFer of which
my youngest child has taken occasional advantage as a means
of supplementing an apparently insufficient pocket allowance),
and my house, which is an old one long past its prime, has
skulking holes in abundance for the little gray creatures. We
have tried poison, but in vain is the net spread in the sight
of any bird; we have tried a cat, but the bones that remain
from our tables are too many; so we have resolved to fall
back on rat-traps.
I did not know where to get one, but I have a friend who
is a blacksmith, and I was sure he would be able to tell me.
A Japanese blacksmith's shop is always interesting, if for
nothing else than its diminutive size and the apparent flimsi-
ness of everything connected with it, whether in the way of
implements and machinery or of workmanship. My friend's
dwelling-house is just behind his shop, and I have often felt
that he and his wife cannot have much in the way of domes-
tic comfort or cleanliness with the dust of the shop so close
to them.
Having learnt the name and address of a rat-trap maker,
I found the shop in the charge of a young lad sitting on a
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620 A Holiday Ramble in Tokyo [Aug.,
stool in front of a rough frame- work making wire netting.
Around him lay the products of his skill — a bird- cage, half a
dozen strainers, an egg basket, a woven- wire gridiron or two,
and the rat* trap for which my heart was longing.
I had still two more commissions to execute. One was to
a dyer's, and the other to a shrine- maker's, to inquire about
a Buddhist shrine which a globe-trotting friend had ordered
to be made. The dyer's was near at hand, and my companion
and I walked into the workshop, and watched the men at
work stenciling the cloth. Japan is still the paradise of small
home industries, and, strange though this may sound to your
American ears, I hope it may long continue to be so. The
factories which are beginning to spring up around us, in imi-
tation of Western methods, are not good for the moral, or
even the physical, health of the nation, and the very best silks
and fabrics that Japan produces to- day are those of the small
handlooms worked in the home. Of course a handloom will
never enable a man to have a large inccme, and that is in
some eyes a misfortune; but it enables a man to live in free-
dom from care ; and after all '' to have food and raiment and
to be therewith content," is one of the fundamental bases of
all true religion.
My last commission, the one to the shrine-maker's, involved
a journey right across Tokyo to Asakusa, the great centre of
Buddhist ecclesiasticism, and, tven with our recently acquired
electric car service, Tokyo remains a city of magnificent dis-
tances.
Near the Shimbashi station we were stopped by some
troops — infantry and artillery — \^ho had just retuincd heme
from a remote outpost in Manchuria. During the past months
the streets have often been obstructed by these returning troops
and tae crowds that turned out to welcome them.
A little beyond Shimbashi, near the Department of Agri-
culture and Commerce, we found some women at work driving
piles for the foundation of a new building. The hammer for
driving the piles is drawn up to the top of the scaffolding, the
women all singing as they haul at the ropes, and is then al-
lowed to drop with its full weight on the piles below. Ameri-
cans will, of course, talk about the clumsiness of Japanese
methods, and how much more effectively a steam hammer
would have done the work ; but there is something to be said
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I906.] A HOLIDAY RAMBLE IN TOKYO 621
for our old-fashioned Japanese methods. They are slow, it is
true, but they furnish steady employment. When the war
came, and the men had to go to the front, the women worked
at many jobs on which men had been employed hitherto. In
that way, though there was much distress, there was less than
might have been expected. And, most important of all, there
was no pauperization. The women worked and the family life
went on. Japan has hitherto been free from labor troubles,
and free also from grinding poverty. Both are coming now
as a consequence of the introduction of Western methods of
industry and life. I have heard people speak of English and
American commerce and industrial life as being in seme way
or other a proof of the truth of the Christian religion. But
it often seems to me that these old and apparently unpro-
gressive methods of work, which, after all, secured the happi-
ness of the large majority of the people, are really far more
in harmony with the spirit of Christ than the newer methods
of our materialistic pseudo- Christianity, which presents the
world with the unedifying spectacle of teo much wealth in
some quarters and abject squalor in others. Japan may thank
God that she has hitherto been kept free from either extreme.
As we passed along I called to inquire aiter a Japanese
friend who had been ill. My friend had gone out, but his
wife and son were at home. We found Mrs. Fukunaga sitting
over the kotatsu and warming herself, whilst her boy sat by
her side for a home reading lesson. A kotatsu is a framework
put over the fire- box or brazier which the Japanese use for
their charcoal fires. The framework is, of course, very useful
for drying clothes, but we found it was now used for another
purpose. Mrs. Fukunaga had put a bed-quilt over it, and was
thus keeping herself deliciously warm. I quite envied her, and
I envy her still. A few days of sunshine last week tempted
me to get rid of my stove, and to-day, with my feet icy cold
and rheumatic pains in my back, I am repenting that I did
so. Mrs. Fukunaga told me that her husband had gone to
see some games at a girls' school near by, and we promised that
if we had the time we would look in and see them also.
But before doing so we must get* uur business done at the
shrine -maker's. We found the shop, resplendent with the gilt
of many a shrine waiting for a devout purchaser. In another
corner of the shop were rows of Buddhas waiting also to be
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622 A Holiday Ramble in Tokyo [Aug.,
purchased and placed within these shrines, a lacquered and
gold priest's chair was also exposed for sale, whilst a young
apprentice was busying himself with putting some touches to
twj great wooden gongs such as are frequently used in Budd-
hist worship. The sight of a shrine shop is one that fills many
a mind with horror, because of the supetsvitions which it con-
notes, but to me it is not so. A hundred times rather would
I see the Japanese an honest Buddhist or Shintoist, believing
from his heart in gods and Buddhas, and practising religious
ceremonies, which may be superstitious, but yet are true to
him, than I would see him the superior agnostic of modern
times, with his badly-founded contempt for all that is not
material, and his boastful assertions that there is no god and
no hereafter. I am, therefore, templed to linger almost lov-
ingly about the shrine-maker's shop, because I seem to see in
its master a future ally of the Catholic Faith. The Buddhist
is keeping alive in Japan the traditions of religion and reli-
gious worship, of an immortal soul, of man's responsibility, of
an eternal hereafter, with its punishments and rewards. In its
hierarchy of Bodhisatvas or Bosatsti, " men made perfect," it
is preparing the way for the Catholic Faith in the Communion
of Saints ; in its upholding of the Great Buddha Amida, who,
having attained to perfection for himself, made a vow that he
wjuld not enter into the bliss of Nirvana until be had opened
a way by which men, '' through faith in his name," should be
delivered from the miseries of sin, they have a foreshadowing
of the redeeming work of Christ ; and, therefore, I look upon
Japanese Buddhism as a "praeparatio Evangelica" for the true
faith of the Gospel of Christ. The visit to the shrine- maker's,
far from filling me with horror, fills me with hope that there
is a time coming when Christ, through his one Catholic and
Apostolic Church, shall go forth in Japan " conquering and to
conquer."
These thoughts are strengthened within me as I turn from
the shrine-maker's into the court of the great Temple at Asa-
kusa and watch the worshippers at the altar of the Kwannon,
the goddess of mercy, and so the foreshadowing of our Lady,
feeding the sacred pigeons that hover around her shrine, past
the pagoda-spire, silently pointing heavenwards, and through
the well-kept graveyard, wherein rest the mortal remains of
many honest and faithful ones for whom God in his justice
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I906.] A HOLIDAY RAMBLE IN TOKYO 823
Slid love must have reserved some place suitable for their
merits.
I have spoken of Amida and Kwannon as ** fore-shadow-
ings " of Christ and our Lady. I am not sure that *' fore-
shadowings " is the correct word ; " echoes " would, perhaps,
have been better. The Buddhist books which speak of these
mysterious beings are of a comparatively late origin. Christian
preachers had penetrated far into the regions of the East be-
fore these later books were written, and it is perhaps more
true to say that " echoes " of the Christian faith reached the
Far East in the form of the Buddhist revival of the second
and third centuries of our era, and that through Gnostic (for
the word Gnosticism is etymologically identical in meaning
with Buddhism) perversions of the truth, hungry souls in
China and Japan did learn something of a being infinite in
mercy and love, who for us men and for our salvation did
become man, taking his human nature from one who, like the
Buddhist Kwannon, is indeed our Lady of Mercy. "Whom,
therefore, ye ignorantly worship him declare I unto you," was
St. Paul's word to the Athenians. It is also our word to the
Japanese Buddhists. We are here not to destroy but to fulfil.
Outside the Temple precincts our minds are recalled to the
realities of secular life, not only by the traffic in the streets,
but by the amusing antics of the acrobats who turn summer-
saults for our amusement and their own pecuniary profit. That
reminds us that we are under promise to Mrs. Fukunaga to
visit the Girls' School where her husband is busy with the
athletic sports. We started soon after breakfast ; it is now on
tbe stroke of noon, so we hurry on as best we can Our
homeward journey, though it is still a long while before we
get home, takes us across the famous Nihombashi Bridge where,
until forty years ago, there stood the Government edicts
against the Christian religion. It is a busy, bustling scene
now, and on the river are many boats unloading fish for the
famous market, which, in all but language, is a worthy rival
of the London Billingsgate. Here we take the cars and soon
arrive at the big Elementary School, where we find our friend,
Mr. Fukunaga, taking advantage of the holiday by enjoying a
day's athletics with his pupils. He is a girls' school teacher,
and, as such, a man of irreproachable character and morals.
The average Japanese school has no grand architectural fca-
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624 A HOUDA Y RAMBLE IN TOKYO [Aug.
tures. It is generally a plain wooden structure, with abundance
of windows, and a superabundance of ventilation. The class
rooms are large, and so are the classes; too large, indeed, as
a rule, to allow of much individual attention to the needs of
pupils. But to-day we are not occupied with education, nor
are we interested in the sports of a lot of schoolgirls, and so,
after half an hour of perfunctory observation, we say good-bye
to our friend and hurry on. We have had but a slight lunch
and, being English, we are pining for our afternoon tea.
As we go, Fukunaga puts into my hand a photograph of
a poor hut, such as those which abound in the famine-stricken
districts in the north. I have already spoken of the absence
of grinding poverty in Japan. It is true as a general rule, for
the Japanese has all that wealth which comes from being able
to do without things, and can be contented with but little.
Yet the very fdct that he can live on a minimum makes it all
the harder for him when that minimum is withdrawn, as it
has been this winter in the north, where a total failure of
crops has occasioned a wide- spread and heart-rending distress.
Man's necessity is God's opportunity, and the fact that Chris-
tian missionaries have engineered the work of famine relief,
and that Christians in English-speaking lands have nobly con-
tributed to the good work thus inaugurated, will not soon be
forgotten by this people who well know the virtue of gratitude.
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THE SPIRITUAL VALUE OF CHRISTIANITY.
BY REV. THOMAS J. GERRARD.
pN old philosophy has been undergoing a new birth.
It has been met with widely different degrees of
both welcome and opposition. And at last it is
coming to be understood. Its various names,
" pragmatism," " immanence/' " new apologetic/'
" moral dogmatism/' " philosophy of religious experience/' each
suggests at once an advantage and a danger ; and it is a want
of discernment between the advantages and the dangers which
has led to so much strife and confusion. Father George Tyrrell,
in his latest book. Lex Credendi^ comes forward and saves the
situation. With the discrimination of a master he separates
the good from the bad. He gives a clear and unmistakable
statement of the method. He says plainly and exactly what it
teaches; and, more important still, what it does not teach.
The chief objections to the method, or rather to certain
French exponents of the method, have been vigorously set forth
to English readers by Dr. W. McDonald, the distinguished
theologian of the Dunboyne Establishment.* He, above all
critics known to the present writer, enters into the method with
a sympathetic understanding; not as one who had made up
his mind to wipe it out at any cost; but with true Catholic
insight, grasping the manifest good, warning against the seem-
ing danger. He complains that the advocates of the immanent
method charge the intellectualists with making reason the sole
sufficieocy for spiritual purposes and deny free-will any part
in the process which leads to faith ; with not respecting the
personality of the believer, imposing a system of truths from
without and ignoring the exigency within ; with dispensing with
God's action in the soul, or admitting it by way of superfeta-
tion. All these charges he declares are untrue. Then, pass-
ing to the constructive side of immanence, he claims that its
appeal to subjective needs and cravings is found in all the in-
tellectualists; that the doctrine of the fitness of the soul for
• The Irish Theological Quatlerly, April, 1906.
VOL LXXXIII.— 40
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626 The Spiritual Value of Christianity [Aug.,
GDd is found in every philosophical text-book ; and lastly, that
even when subjective needs have discovered a satisfaction in
Christian truth, there is still required objective proof to assure
us that our discovery is not merely a beautiful hypothesis.
In the introduction to his article Dr. McDonald is less pro-
nounced. There he tells us that the methods of apologetics
are classed as intellectual or mystical, not as each one excludes
the motives of the other, but according to the directness with
which they appeal to the reason or to the will and affections.
Then, in his conclusion, he suggests that the truth may be
this : that theology has always been not only intellectual but
also mystical, and that, however mystical it may become, must
always remain intellectual; that if some, such as Newman and
Pascal, have felt the cravings of the heart more keenly than
those of the intellect, others, such as Bellarmine and Franzelin,
may have felt the contrary; and that, since no man can be an
all-round theologian, it will be well if the advocates of imma-
nence take a line of their own and work along it for the profit
of the good cause, leaving to others the task of working along
other lines, from which also the cause may derive advantage.
Would that all the critics of immanence had been so reason-
able as that ! However, with these objections in full view, I
shall essay in the following paper to show that, whatever may
have been said by the writers of the French school, there can
be no ground for such complaint in the work now before us.
If there is one thing evident through all the writings of Fa-
ther Tyrrell it is that he has no intention whatsoever of sub-
stituting subjective for objective apologetic; nor of undervalu-
ing the intellect; nor of overvaluing the will and affections;
nor of making pragmatism the sole test of truth. But what he
does say is that the subjective side needs accentuating; that
the exigencies of personality need greater fullness of treatment
and more attention to detail ; and that objective proofs may be
rendered more and more *' real '' and less and less " notional "
in proportion as they can be shown to fit in with religious ex-
perience. Were direct evidence necessary to show this, it might
be found in the very introduction to the earlier book Lex
Orandi. There it is stated explicitly that the subjective crite-
rion may not be taken as sufficient in itself. " Viewed from the
standpoint taken in these pages, tested by the criterion of life
and spiritual fruitfulness, the truths oi Christianity carnot be
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i9o6.] THE Spiritual Value of Christianity 627
expected to present the same precision and clearness of outline
as when deduced from defined premises, and built up into a
coherent intellectual system. We can but see men as trees
walking; blurred contours; mountain shapes looming through
the mist. Yet the verification is not valueless; it is not noth-
ing, if approaching the truth from this side, and by this less
frequented path, we find what we had a right to expect; it is
not nothing if that vague 'Power which makes for righteous-
ness' in the souls of men is seen, as we strain through the
darkness, to shape itself more and more into conformity with
the familiar beliefs of the Christian tradition." *
Here, then, is a modus vivendi ; and our grateful thanks
are due to Dr. McDonald for his suggestion that the special-
ists shall work each along his own line, each respecting the
claims of the other. The method of immanence admittedly
has its limits; and here its scope is defined with regard to
intellectualism.
I proceed next to point out its limits with regard to what
is known as the modern philosophy of pragmatism. The mod-
ern philosophy of the name comes from America. Its chief
exponents are Professor William James, the distinguished psy-
chologist of Harvard, and Mr. F. C. S. Schiller, formerly oi
Cornell and now of Oxford. Its fundamental thesis is that
life is the criterion of truth. Professor James attributes its first
formulation to Mr. C. S. Pierce, also an American writer, and
this sums up the doctrine : " Thought in movement has for its
only conceivable motive the attainment of belief, or thought
at rest. Only when our thought about a subject has found
its rest in belief can our action on the subject firmly and
safely begin. Beliefs, in short, are rules for action ; and the
whole function of thinking is but one step in the production
of active habits. If there were any part of a thought that
made no difference in the thought's practical consequences,
then that part would be no proper element of the thought's
significance. To develop a thought's meaning we need, there-
fore, only determine what conduct it is fitted to produce ; that
conduct is for us its sole significance; and the tangible fact
at the root of all our thought distinctions is that there is no
one of them so fine as to consist in anything but a possible
difference of practice. To attain perfect clearness in our
* Lex Orandi. P. xxxi.
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628 THE Spiritual Value of Christianity [Aug.,
thoughts of an object, we need, then, consider only what sen-
sations, immediate or remote, we are conceivably to expect
from it, and what conduct we must prepare in case the object
should be true. Our conception of these practical consequen-
ces is for us the whole of our conception of the object, so
far as that conception has positive significance at all."*
Mr. Schiller states it thus : '' The traditional notion of be-
liefs determined by pure reason alone is wholly incredible.
For how can there be such a thing as ' pure ' reason ? How,
that is, can we so separate our intellectual function from the
whole complex of our activities, that it can operate in real in-
dependence oi practical considerations ? I cannot but conceive
the reason as being, like the rest of our equipment, a weapon
in the struggle for existence and a means of achieving adapta-
tion. It must follow that the practical use which has devel-
oped it, must have stamped itself upon its inmost structure,
even if it has not moulded it out of pre-rational instincts. In
short, a reason which has not practical value for the purposes
of life is a monstrosity, a morbid aberration or failure of adap-
tation, which natural selection must, sooner or later, wipe away.
It is in some such way that I should prefer to pave the way
for an appreciation of what we mean by pragmatism. Hence
I may now venture to define it as the thorough recognition
that the purposive character of mental life generally must in
fluence and pervade also our most remotely cognitive ac-
tivities." t
Thus, according to this school, everything that cannot be
seen to minister to some practical phase of life is, if not un-
true in itself, at least worthless in the scheme of truth.
See now the contrast between this and the philosophy of
Lex Orandi and Lex Credendi, What is said over and over
again in these volumes is, that where a belief ministers to
practical Hie, where it is fruitful in good morals, that is one
sign, and an important one, that the belief is true; that where
a belief is fruitful of bad morals, that is one sign that the be-
lief is false. We cannot always see, except in a very vague
way, the connection between a belief and the spiritual life.
But if we cannot see the connection, we can at least see the
results of the belief. The bearing of the ''filioque" on moral-
ity is not directly manifest. But the test of sanctity, applied
• The Varieties of Religious Experience, P. 444. f Humanism, P. 8.
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respectively to the Catholic and to the orthodox churches,
must mark off the Catholic as pre-eminent. So this is what
is meant by the ''pragmatism" of Christ. "By their fruits
you shall know them. Do men gather grapes of thorns or figs
of thistles ? Even so e^^ty good tree bringeth forth good
fruit, and the evil tree bringeth forth evil fruit. A good tree
cannot bring forth evil fruit. Neither can an evil tree bring
forth good fruit. Wherefore, by their fruits you shall know
them " And we know what this meant on the lips of Christ,
how he judged men, not by their tendencies and sentiments,
but by their action and conduct; not by their passions and
Impulses, but by their deliberate morality, whether in thought,
word, or deed.
Is the difference now quite clear ? The modern school,
with Professor James at its head, makes pragmatism the sole
test of truth : the immanent school, as voiced by Father Tyr-
rell, makes pragmatism only one of the tests, albeit a very im-
portant one. And here is his explicit statement of that fact:
" That the truth of a dogma is simply and only practical ;
that it means merely ' act as if this were true, and you will
act aright'; that it is nothing more than an ethical myth — is
a position that I have repeatedly repudiated in Lex Orandi
wherever I have insisted that a belief, which constantly and
universally fosters spiritual life, must so far be true to the
realities of the spiritual world, and must, therefore, possess a
representative as well as a practical value. If there is a prag-
matism that denies this, I have nothing to do with it."*
On the other hand, life as a test may not be taken in the
limited way in which Newman used it in his theory of devel-
opment. His seventh note of a true development was what
he called chronic vigor or duration. Heresies had never been
known to live long lives. Th«y either died or resolved them-
selves into some new, possibly opposite, error. The facts of
Mahometanism and the Greek Church were difficulties to him.
Yet still he hoped that his seventh test would eventually
prove fatal to them. It must be seen now that his idea of
"life" was scarcely adequate. It was not duration but full-
ness and fruitfulness which should have been his note. A re-
cent historian has touched the truth with regard to Islam.
Commenting on the "life" of that religion in North Africa,
^ Lex Credendi, P. 252.
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630 The Spiritual value of Christianity [Aug.,
Mr. Hilaire Belloc thus explains: ''The Bedouins, as they
rode, bore with them also a violent and simple creed. And
here again a metaphor drawn from the rare vegetation of this
province can alone define the character of their arrival. Their
faith was like some plant out of the solitudes ; it was hard in
surface ; it was simple in form ; it was fitted rather to endure
than to grow. It was consonant with the waterless horizons
and the blinding rocks from which it had sprung. Its victory
was immediate. . . . Elsewhere, in Syria and in Asia and
in Spain, the Mohammedans failed to extirpate Christianity,
and were able for some centuries to enjoy the craftsmanship
and the sense of order which their European subjects could
lend them. It was only here, in Africa, that their victory was
complete. Therefore, it is only here in Africa that you see
what such a victory meant, and how, when it was final, all
power of creation disappeared."*
Nor, yet again, may life as a criterion be limited to the
individual. I have before me a very silly book — I will not
advertise it by naming it — which drives unbridled pragmatism
to this, the silliest of absurdities. The only principles of selec-
tion which it can see working on the Roman Faith are poli-
tics, chicanery, the sword, the rack, and the thumb- screw.
No ; the individual cannot sit down and apply the test of his
limited experience. It must be the life of the whole Christian
body, that is, the life of the Church. The individual, as a
member of the great society, must eliminate his own eccen-
tricities. . Then, if he be not quite abnormal, in which case he
must consider himself a nonentity in questions of faith and
morals, he will find a residue in common with the rest of the
society. Comparing this felt residue with the life of Christ,
he will perceive a correspondence. The common denominator,
experienced within himself, will thus help him to realize the
teaching of Christ. It is the experience of the Church, and
of the individual only in so far as he participates in the life
of the Church, which is the test of truth. Thus the scope of
the law is defined. Human experience, consulted rightly, gives
us truth but not all truth.
So far I have considered the method in its negative aspect,
endeavoring to show rather what it does not teach. I now
pass to the consideration of its positive value. On all hands
• E$t9 Ptrpttua, By H. BeUoc. P. 52.
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i9o6.] THE Spiritual Value of Christianity 631
we see pragmatism, in one form or another, gaining ground.
It is becoming popular in its respective variations, both inside
and outside the Church. Its worst type permeates the Ritsch-
lian school of theology. It is the basis for the construction
of undogmatic religion. It is the supposed justification of the
Nonconformist cry: "Give me God, not creeds." Its success
is undoubtedly due to the amount of truth which it contains ;
and, consequently, the evil which it works is proportionately
great. Catholic pragmatism, therefore, seeks to lay hold on
the principle, in so far as it is good, and use it for the benefit
of the Catholic faith. Catholic pragmatism claims that the
principle, if truly estimated and correctly applied, must tell in
favor of Catholic truth.
The golden key, then, is that life, in order to be a cri-
terion of truth, must be life in its fullest sense and manifesta-
tion, the whole life of the individual, the whole life of the
collective body, i, ^., the Church, the whole life of life, i.e,, life
eternal.
The life of the individual consists of intellect, will, and
feeling. These partial lives have been each accentuated by
modern philosophers. The importance of the wilMife is asso-
ciated with the name of Kant; that of the intellect- life with
the name of Hegel; that of the sentiment-life with the names
of Schleiermacher and Chateaubriand ; and that of the totality
of life with Lotze. The overbalancing of any of the partial
lives is marked off as a philosophical heresy. Father Tyrrell
stigmatizes the heresies as " mysticality," "practicality," and
"sentimentalism." The due cultivation of the full life he calls
the " Caritas Dei." Tliis implies first, the due balancing of
the psychic life, or the setting in order of the will, the intel-
lect, and the feeling; and secondly, the due subjecting of the
psychic life to the spiritual. Lay the foundation of the natu-
ral; then on that build the supernatural.
To accomplish this we must take the life of Christ for our
model ; for that life was the revelation of the Eternal Father.
The record of that life has been committed to Scripture and
tradition. It was revealed to the Apostles once and for all
time. A distinction must be made between the spirit and the
letter, between the substance and the form. The substance
does not develop in the same way as the form. The sub-
stance may unfold itself, but it is semper eadem. The Vati-
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632 THE Spiritual value of Christianity [Aug.,
can Council has defined that that sense of the sacred dogmas,
which once Holy Mother Church has declared, must be always
retained, and never, under the pretence or in the name of
higher knowledge, must we depart from that sense. But
the form, since it is only the form, may and must change.
Hence the so-called " New Testament Christianity," or *' pure
Bible teaching/' is scored through. It 'Ms purely and blindly
reactionary; it is a denial of all flexibility and vitality in the
religion of Christ. . . . Plainly it is the spirit of Christ
which we have to imitate, though the matter upon which, and
the conditions under which, we have to work are wholly differ-
ent from his. For the discerning, the spirit of the master-
artist lives whole and entire in the least and rudest of his
efforts, and can be gathered still more easily from a collection
and comparison of them all. But to canonize the vehicle to-
gether with the spirit which it conveys, to copy his works
slavishly and mechanically, were to make a tyrant of a teacher,
and to bring the spirit under the bondage of the letter. . . .
The Christianity of the New Testament, the first embodiment
in which the spirit of Christ manifested itself, was necessa-
rily shaped and framed either in accordance with, or in oppo-
sition to, conditions which have vanished forever. To deny the
equal right of later and fuller manifestations, to hold back to
the first as to an iron rule, would be to nail Christ hand and
foot to another Cross, to bury him in the tomb of the past
without hope of resurrection."*
The development of form is brought about chiefly by the
Church's holiness. There is a manifold number of influences
working on the subject-matter, theological speculation of all
kinds, politics, economics, in fact every influence to which non-
religious truths are subject. But the selective principle is holi-
ness. Our creeds may have been formed more immediately
by the Doctors of the Church as such, God's thinking instru-
ments, but the thinking was done only in the interests of holi-
ness. It was holiness which was the real principle of selec-
tion. Here the pragmatism of Christ is identical in principle
with the pragmatism of modern days. Mr. Schiller names his
leading article "The Ethical Basis of Metaphysics." f But he
explains his intentional paradox by saying that he does not
mean that our final synthesis rests upon a single science (/. /.,
• Lex Credendi, P. 48. \ Humanism, P. i.
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i9o6.] THE Spiritual Value of Christianity 633
ethics), but rather that among the contributions of the special
sciences to the final evaluation of experience, that of the high-
est, viz,^ ethics, has and must have decisive weight. And again:
''Pure intellection is not a fact in nature; it is a logical fic-
tion which will not really answer even for the purposes of
technical logic. In reality our knowing is driven and guided
at every step by our subjective interests and preferences, our
desires, our needs, and our ends. These form the motive powers
also of our intellectual life."*
Similarly' the spiritual interests and preferences and needs
of the Church are the motive powers by which she selects her
doctrinal truth. "When we say * first holiness and then truth,'
we are speaking of the truth of explicit understanding which
is attained by after- reflection on that truth, which is always
implicit in holiness and quite inseparable from it." f
And what is this but the fulfilment of a psychological law,
which even the least reflective may observe ? A child moves
and feels and desires long before it thinks. Then, as soon as
reason dawns, there is experience ready at hand for reason to
reflect upon. Thus Augustine can look at babies and reflect
upon his own babyhood : '' And behold giadually I came to
know where I was, and I tried to express my lyants to those
who could gratify them, yet could not, because my wants were
inside me, and they were outside, nor had they any power of
getting into my soul." There is nothing in the intellect that
was not previously in some way in the senses. Certainly the
reason plans the future and illumines the will for future action ;
but not without having regard for past experience. Thought,
therefore, follows on life. As Hegel said : '' When philosophy
paints its gray in gray, some one shape of life has meanwhile
grown old; and gray in gray, though it brings it into knowl-
edge, cannot make it young again. The owl of Minerva does
not start upon its flight until the evening twilight has begun
to fall."
From this simple psychological fact it follows, of necessity,
that theology can never become final. It is always somewhat
in arrear of the spiritual life of the Church. And if by per-
secution or other special visitations of God our spiritual life
goes faster, why then our theology must go faster too.
The spiritual life derives its source from the Spirit of Christ.
• op. cit. P. 10. t Lex Credendi, P. 54.
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634 THE Spiritual Value of Christianity [Aug.,
" Of hi6 fullness we all have received, and grace for grace/'
By studying the life of Christ, we learn the Spirit of Christ.
By constant reference to the archetype we are enabled to avoid
the three great dangers pointed out : sentimentality, mysticality,
and practicality. Only in the perfect Man can we find a per-
fect poising of the functions, feeling moderated by reason and
fertilized by will; reason amplified by feeling and solidified by
will ; will made reasonable by intelligence and inflamed by feel-
ing. Only in the perfect Man is the perfect psychic life per-
fectly spiritualized. To know all about the life <A Christ is
impossible. The world would not contain all the books need-
ful for its due transcription. One phase of it, indeed, gives
food for the reflection of a lifetime. Fortunately Christ has
given us a simple expression of his spirit- life, an expression
which is at once the simplest and deepest, the Lord's Prayer.
''A man's spirit utters itself to some degree in every voluntary
movement of his life; but never so fully and perfectly as in
prayer — prayer that is really his own. For prayer is 'the lift-
ing up of the heart and mind to God ' ; it is an act in which
vision, feeling, and will, the three factors of the spirit-life,
designedly blend together and strive to attain their iiighest and
deepest expression. In prayer the spirit pierces down to the
root and beginning of all reality from which it springs, and
stretches up to the end and summit of all reality towards
which it strains and struggles; and between these two poles
lies the whole sphere of the finite which it strives to compass
and transcend. In prayer it expressly deals with the ulti mates »
with the first and the last and, with reference to them, with
all that lies between them. And in this contact with reality it
attains truth — truth of vision, truth ot feeling, truth of will."*
In pointing to the prayer of Christ as the highest and in-
tensest phase of life, another vast difference is marked cff be-
tween the pragmatism of Christ and that of modern philosophy.
Although Professor James must ever claim a debt of gratitude
from Catholics for his scientific testimony to the value of the
contemplative life, yet he must be considered after all to have
missed its essential note. Of course he is professedly only
analyzing the spiritual life from a psychological standpoint,
judging it by palpable results. In his eyes the good fruits of
the life of Blessed Margaret Mary are nothing but contempt-
• Lex Crtdendu P. 83.
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i9c6.] THE Spiritual Value of Christianity 63s
ible sufferings and prayers and absences of mind and swoons
and ecstasies. The revelations of St. Gertrude he can only
appraise as a paltry-minded recital of love/ intimacies, caresses
and compliments of the most absurd and puerile sort, addressed
by Christ to Gertrude as an individual ; and her life as yield-
ing almost absolutely worthless fruits. In reading St. Theresa
he can feel only pity that so much vitality of soul should have
found such poor employment, and thinks that her main idea
of religion was that of an endless amatory flirtktion — if he might
say so withotit irreverence — between the devotee and the deity.*
The one failing of all these saints is that they do not bear
useful human fruit. The immanent action of the spirit of
Christ working out its own designs does not commend itself to
him. The unfolding of the glories of the Sacred Heart to a
favored child, but kept from the wise and prudent, counts for
nothing. Prayer as the highest and deepest experience of life
is beyond his imagination.
Obviously, however, the form of the prayer is but a form
which enfolds the substance. The substance is the spirit of
the prayer. In order to get at the spirit, and thus find a norm
for our spirit, we must see first what the form meant for the
disciples to whom it was first proposed ; what was understood
t^o thousand years ago by such terms as '' fatherhood," '' hea-
ven," "the kingdom," "daily bread," "temptation," "evil
one." And here again there is need, and admitted need, of all
the objective knowledge, whether of history, archaeology, Greek,
Hebrew, Syriac, or Ethiopian, that we can command. Similar-
ly, if we are to get at the spirit of Christ speaking through
the Council of Trent, if we are to express that spirit in lan-
guage and forms understanded of the people, we must first
possess a knowledge of scholastic theology. Father Tyrrell,
therefore, undertakes to show that the spirit of Christ, as ex-
pressed in the Lord's Prayer, is the chief formative principle
in the shaping of the Creed; that in each invocation or peti-
tion of the prayer there is an implication of some article of
our faith. I do not intend to follow him through this process.
His book arms at being practical rather than apologetic, whilst
my purpose here is to review its apologetic rather than its
practical element. So I shall merely choose an example here
and there where the apologetic principle is stated.
♦ The Vatiities of Religious Expetienct. Pp. 343-348.
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636 The Spiritual Value of Christianity [Aug.,
The treatment of the invocation " Our Father who art in
heaven " gives us at once a vindication of the principle im-
plied in the term '' immanence/' *' Immanence " in its scho-
lastic sense lias no meaning to anybody but those who have
gone through a course of scholastic philosophy. "Immanence"
in its immanent sense represents what every Catholic under-
stands, or ought to understand by the omnipresence of God
and of his ind'welling in, yet transcendence of, nature. The
idea of " Father " implies the nearness of ethical relationships,
love, care, protection, intimacy, authority. The idea " in hea-
ven " implies God's distance and otherness. For Christ's hear-
ers, even as for many of his present-day followers, heaven was
a place beyond the sky. Now, through the science of astron-
omy, we find it difficult to fix our imagination on anywhere in
particular. "The heaven that lay behind the blue curtain of
the sky, whence night by night God hung out his silver lamps
to shine upon the earth, was a far deeper symbol of the eter-
nal home than the cold shelterless deserts of astronomical
space." If, however, the telescope has spoiled our symbolism
and consequent realization to us in one respect, in another the
microscope and chemical experiments have deepened our reali-
zation of him. When we know that in a thimbleful of hydro-
gen there are 1,200,000 of millions of millions of millions of
electrons, and that God with his infinite wisdom and power is
wholly present in, yet transcending, each electron, then indeed
we need not break our heads in the constant endeavor to place
ourselves in the presence of God. It is not that the omni-
presence of God is not found in every text- book, but that it
is treated in such a way as to leave the mind possessed of a
notion rather than the soul possessed of a reality.
I am quite aware that this statement of the omnipresence
of God is believed to be beset with the danger of pantheism.
That is only a reason for stating it clearly and exactly. Thus,
then, does Father Tyrrell draw the clear and clean distinction :
"This sense of God's otherness, unlikeness, infinitude is, both
historically and philosophically, the motive of that reverence,
awe, and worship, which is even a more primary element than
love, confidence, and sonship. Man passes from the religion
of servitude and fear to that of liberty and the gospel; yet
he does not leav« fear behind, but carries it on with him,
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i9o6.] THE Spiritual Value of Christianity 637
deepened and spiritualized, into a reverence that is part of the
substance of love. Christ's reverential love was that of one to
whom earth was permeated by heaven as by an all-pervading
ether invisible to less pure eyes than his own. The enfolding
curtain of the sky was for him but a symbol of the manner
in which the visible and material is encompassed and pene-
trated by the spiritual. It was not from beyond the outmost
circumference of space that he sought the explanation and
source of all that exists and lives and moves; but in the very
centre of each several creature, living in its life, breathing in
its breath, yet transcending it infinitely in kind and nature.''*
Once realize this transcendent immanence of God, and all
seeming conflict between faith and science vanishes. Mr. SchiU
ler, indeed, approaching the same conclusion by another path,
makes bold to say that the function of faith is even necessary
to science. In his article, "Faith, Reason, and Religion," f
he claims this from psychological and epistemological consid-
erations. " It ceased, therefore," he says, " to be necessary to
oppose the reasons of the heart to those of the head ; it could
be maintained that no 'reasons' could be excogitated by an
anaemic brain to which no heart supplied the life-blood; it
could be denied that the operations of the ' illative sense,' and
the sphere of value judgments, were restricted to religious
truths. . . . Reason, therefore, is incapacitated from sys-
tematically contesting the validity of faith, because faith is
proved to be essential to its own validity."
Probably all the seeming conflicts between science, espe-
cially moral science, and faith can be reduced to the problem
of evil. That, at any rate, is the most formidable. Faith is
admittedly the only key to the problem. What is disputed is
the precise point where faith must come in. And here is the
advantage of the pragmatist as distinguished frcm the intel-
lectualist position. The intellectualist is ready with a bundle
of explanations, all more or less vulnerable. The pragmatist
admits the difliculty at once. The pragmatic value of the in-
vocation "Our Father who art in heaven" is that it implies
an all-embracing act of faith, trusting . in the good God in
spite of all seeming contradiction, and thus saves the troubled
soul from all needless distress. "You cannot get on," says
^ Lex Credendi, P. no. \ The Hibbert Journal, ^oxiMorft i^.
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638 The Spiritual value of Christianity [Aug.,
the pragmatist, '^without faitfa. In this matter God seems to
be acting contrary to both wisdom, justice, and mercy. But
you know from other sources that God exists and that he is
good. Therefore, by an effort of your will, you must trust
that he is right in those particular instances where he seems
to be wrong." This is not a general depreciation of the value
of hypotheses in the defence of mysteries. By all means have
hypotheses, but not such as bring the defence of our faith into
ridicule. In nearly all our current ethical text- books there is
a thesis to the effect that eternal punishment can be proved,
by the laws of human reason alone, to be both just and neces-
sary. Yet how easy it is for a skillful agnostic to disprove
this. . A passage of superb beauty from the Lex Credendi must
serve to show us the strength of the immanist position: '*He
to whose spiritual gaze nature was transparent has taught us
the true mysticism; he has taught us to see God, not along-
side of nature, but to see nature in the bosom of God, and
God through and in nature; to find him as revealed in the
rule; to seek for him as hidden in the exception; to believe
in a unity which we cannot yet see; to hope in a love which
we cannot yet understand. There can be no conflict of faith
and science when faith compasses science as heaven compasses
earth; when mysteries are sought not in the faults and lacunas
of science, but in the higher world that permeates and engulfs
the visible order, in the darkness from which it comes and
into which it vanishes, a darkness which faith alone can en-
lighten." •
Having shown the need of faith, and the danger of claiming
for reason more than it can bear, it remains to be shown that
this is no undervaluing of reason. One of the most elusive
tasks of psychology is to determine precisely when and how
the several forms of the psychic life act. And probably abso-
lute precision will never be obtained. A source of much con-
fusion in the past has been the tendency to regard the several
functions of the spirit- life as so many departments of an insti-
tution, each holding a sort of artificial communication with the
other. The full value of the scholastic notion of the simplicitas
animcB has not been realized. Newman has rescued us from
this. Life in the concrete man must be considered in its to-
• Lix Credendi, P. na.
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i9o6.] THE Spiritual Value of Christianity 639
tality. The functions of understanding, volition, and sentiment
must be viewed as so many aspects of the same life. And to
enter into life to its fullest extent, the reason must be used
to its fullest capacity. Thus, then, docs our author not only
grant but insist on full value being given to leason: '*To shut
out the understanding from all participation in the spiritual
life, to trust merely to intuition or to the implicit apprehension
involved in feeling and love, would be to exclude the normal
condition of yet deeper love and wider intuition ; it would be
to embrace a false mysticism that divides the spirit and im-
poverishes the fullness of its lile. Man is not only a 'reason-
ing animal,' but he is nevertheless a reasoning animal. The
reasons of the head are not his only reasons, but neither are
the reasons of the heart. It is not enough to feel God, to
apprehend him implicitly in the love by which he is really
present in us; we must also name him; and name him as
worthily as we can : ' Sanctificetur nomen tuum.' To admit
this is to admit the rights of theology; for the naming of
God is the beginning and root of all theology."* And again:
''Science multiplies and deepens experience; experience so
multiplied bursts through the categories of science and de-
mands its reform; and so each aids and furthers the other." f
On the other hand, full value must be given to the will*
And it is in the appraising of the function of the will that the
different schools, for some time at least, will agree to differ.
For the present, however, we can make an honest endeavor to
understand each other. Perhaps some of the writers of the
French school, in expounding the scope of the will, have
seemed to claim top much for it. No such complaint can be
made against Father Tyrrell. He is clearness itself. " If
thought, feeling, and will, the components of the spirit- life, are
correlative and inseparable ; if the attempt to make any one
of them supreme and independent issues in confusion, yet there
is a certain order in their mutual dependence that allows us
to consider the spirit- life as completing itself in the act of the
will. In this sense Augustine may say: 'We are wills and
nothing else,' without falling into the excesses of ' Voluntar-
ism ' — as the counter fallacy to ' Intellectualism ' is sometimes
called. A blind will, such as Schopenhauer speaks of, that in-
• Ltx Credtndi, P. 139. 1 Op, cit, P. 141.
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640 The Spiritual Value of Christianity [Aug.,
volves no consciousness of what it makes for, and no feeling
concerning it, is hardly distinguishable from a physical force,
and does not deserve the name of will. We mean by will that
act in which the spirit tends with all Its power, and so far as
in it lies, to realize an end which it sees and desires. It is
preeminently the act by which the spirit freely makes and
shapes its own character. We are what we will. It is pre-
cisely as will, as a will (and, therefore, a personality) other than
our own, that God is made known to us in the phenomena of
conscience (moral, intellectual, and aesthetic), and it is this
revelation that , transforms the monologue of the merely ethical
into the dialogue of the religious life."*
Doubtless many will disagree with Father Tyrrell as to the
degree of importance attached to the will in the act of faith,
and regard its direct action as illegitimate. He is at least in
good company. Dr, Fox, of the University of Washington, in
a vigorous essay f maintaining the reasonableness of this prior-
ity of will, calls his article "Scotus Redivivus." No one will
venture to say that Scotus made the will usurp the function
of the intellect. The sense of sight is nobler than and supe-
rior to the sense of touch ; yet the sense of sight will not
convince a man of the density or otherwise of any given body.
And if Scotus can be shown not to have undervalued the in-
tellect in insisting on the supremacy of the will, so also can
it be shown that St. Thomas, whilst giving more than his op-
ponent to the value of the intellect, yet maintained the su-
premacy of the will in matters of faith.
With St. Thomas, generally speaking, the understanding is
higher than the will. But in matters of faith, the will, by
reason of its object, is higher than the understanding. Again,
he says : " The understanding of one who believes is determined
not by the reasoning faculty, but by the will, and, therefore,
assent stands here for an act of the understanding so far as it
is determined by the will." J Once more: "Faith implies an
assent of the understanding to that which is believed. For the
understanding assents to a thing in two ways: one way be-
cause it is moved to this by the object itself, which is known
by means of itself or by means of something else; the other
• Lex Credendi, P. 181. \New York Review, June-July, 1905.
X Summa ^a 2cb, q. Il„ a. i, ad 3m.
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i9o6.] THE Spiritual Value of Christianity 641
way, not because it is moved thereto by its proper object^ but by
reason of a certain choice freely declining to one side rather than
to the other. And if, perchance, this is with doubt, and fear
lest the opposite may be true, then it is but an opinion; but
if it is with certainty and without such fear, then it is faith." *
Briefly, then. Christian pragmatism recognizes and insists on
the necessity of objective authoritative teaching. It claims,
however, to supplement that objective teaching by showing in
detail the subjective exigencies for the objective truths pro-
posed. The two methods are complementary, the one giving
form and precision, the other giving life and reality. In work-
ing out its scheme of subjective exigencies it denies any right
to the individual to judge from his own experience alone, and
insists on the need of the collective experience of the Church.
In consulting the collective experience of the Church it aims
at a sense of proportion in appraising the intellectual, voli-
tional and emotional elements in the Church's life. And its
conclusion is that the volitional is the predominating power;
that the intellectual forms of the Church's creed are the con-
sequent explicitations of the Church's life; that the Church's
prayer is primarily the standard of the Church's belief.
* Summa 2a aa, q. I., a. 4, C.
VOL. LXXXIII.— 41
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THE CRISIS IN ENGLISH EDUCATION.
BY WILLIAM BARRY. D.D.
UR last election, in January, 1906, sent into the
House of Commons two hundred Nonconformist
Members. Such an array, it was observed with
rejoicing by the so-called " Free Churches," had
never been seen at Westminster except under
''old Noll"; and the consequences became speedily apparent.
If there is one institution which the Dissenter hates and makes
war upon unceasingly, it is the Anglican or Established Church.
For purposes of assault he terms its clergyman '* the priest,'*
its note "sacerdotalism," its teaching "Roman"; and its end^
if not hindered by lay public opinion, he declares, will be sub-
mission to the Pope. In every sphere of activity the Non*
conformist would limit or sweep away its influence. But he
cannot as yet disestablish and disendow the Episcopalian.
From the chancel or the pulpit he knows not how to drive
that Catholicizing shadow of an ever-feared and formidable
reality, the old English, Roman, Universal Communion which
exercises even at this day so mighty a charm wherever it is
not put down by force. Accordingly, the strategist looks round
for another object of attack. He finds it in the denominational
school. Hence, our present Education Bill and the crisis which
it has provoked.
Unlike Americans, the English people have allowed their
school-system to rise upon a religious foundation. Until 1870
it was by nature voluntary and almost entirely clerical in its
management, to which the State contributed certain grants in
aid. These, however, by no means equalled the whole cost ;
while for the religious teaching not a penny was given. Free-
will contributions, eked out by trifling school fees, met all de-
mands which the Imperial fund did not take into account. In
1870 Mr. Forster supplemented this inadequate scheme by the
creation of School Boards, intended not to rival the Anglican,
Catholic, or other voluntary establishments, but to furnish
centres where these happened to be wanting. The cost was
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thrown chiefly upon the " ratcf," i. e.^ contributions levied by
districts and not from "taxes/' which go into the Govermen't
exchequer. All schools (elementary is meant) were entitled to
get payment by results, or by head, according to their success
in examination, from the Central Office at Whitehall. This
was known as ''the grant/' and it came out of taxes. But
only the Board Schools were put upon the rates. All citizens
who chose could send their children into such schools. But
no denominational teaching was to be given in them. If the
local authorities wished, they were free to have the Bible
simply taught, hymns and prayers recited, but no catechism,
creed, or formula should be part of the curricultm. This
"common denominator" is generally designated as " Cowper-
Temple religion," from the author of the clause implyirg it.
There has always been a conscience clause in addition, bind-
ing on every school which receives the grant. Parents who
object to religious teaching may withdraw their children from
it, though not from the school, during the hours in which it
is given.
Education, thus conceived, was made compulsory in 1870.
Twenty years later, school fees were done away. Meanwhile^
the School Board rate grew by millions.^ The Government laid
heavy demands on the Voluntary system, which was kept up«
we should remember, by persons who paid their portion of the
cost for schools their children .could not attend. They were
actually furnishing the sinews of war to a great rival power^
which aimed at crippling the dogmatic institutions, while it en*
jpyed limitless control over the ratepayer's purse. And the
Board Schools — fine buildings, well- equipped, with a staff re-
cruited on the highest scale of salaries — were almost every-
where Nonconformist pastures. In thirty years Catholics, though
poor, have spent some four million pounds ($20,000,000) on
their 1,100 schools. Anglicans claim that they have spent forty
million ($200,000,000). And, except the Wesleyans, whose ef-
forts have not been wanting, the Dissenters were satisfied to
come upon the rates for their schools, their teachers, and their
education. Such are the main facts. The Cowper-Temple re-
ligion, where expounded, was good enough for Nonconformists.
Where, as in many parts of Wales, no religious instruction
formed part of the week-day lessons, the minister relied upon
his Sabbath school, and he built no other.
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644 THE Crisis in English Education [Aug.,
Private enterprise, though aided by a grant, was pitted
thus against public resources, in a duel which lasted thirty-two
years. The outcome might be foreseen. Anglicans gave up
many of their schools to the Board. Collections fell off. The
Voluntary system could not pay its teachers, or provide pen-
sions, or launch out into experiments, or improve its buildings,
so as to compete with its enemy. Catholics, indeed, may be
proud that not one of their schools has been surrendered. But
the drain on their hard earned money was not less exhausting
than unjust. It hampered their energies in other directions.
It laid a double burden on them. It seriously interfered with
work which the clergy might have undertaken of a more
spiritual character. Yet priests and people alike struggled on,
until, after some imperfect measure of relief in 1897, Mr. Bal-
four passed the Act of 1902. By this law, every school re-
ceived a share in the local rates, always, of course, under strict
popular control as regarded the allocation and expenditure.
Nothing was allowed for the religious lessons. The private
trustees had still to keep their buildings in good repair. And
on the Board of six members they were allowed two representa-
tives. Many priests held this to be an indifferent bargain.
Many more anticipated the storm which broke out as soon as
Nonconformist preachers with stentorian lungs could cry from
their sounding-boards: ** Rome on the rates.'' The relief which
we gained, though seasonable, was far from a total release.
And now we found ourselves confronted with ^^ passive resist-
ance." Many Dissenters refused to pay the rate ; some had
their goods sold by auction ; a few, among whom were ministers,
went to prison.
This clever device, invented by Dr. Robertson NicoU, and
painted on his flag by Dr. Clifford, of Westbourne Grove,
appealed to the Englishman's sense of fair play and his love
for a little humorous comedy. It had some grievances on
which to justify itself. True, Catholics had many more, and
so had Anglicans. For the education-rate, since 1870 levied
from all alike, should have been distributed among all accord-
ing to their several contributions. As regarded our schools,
the Dissenter could not bring any charge that they were in-
efficieat, or that they proselytized his children. At least one-
fourthy I believe, of those attending them were non-Catholics.
But parents liked our training, and the conscience clause was
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i9o6.] THE Crisis in English Education 645
hardly ever appealed to. Protestant children learned our cate-
chism and joined in our prayers. On the other hand, in many
districts, especially rural, there was only one school, and that
Anglican, with a teaching so High Church as to be scarcely
distinguishable from the Roman Catholic. If a child was for-
bidden to attend these lessons, he got no religious training on
week-days at all. If not forbidden, he was led to make the
sign of the cross, to bow before the altar and the crucifix, to
practise confession, to adore the consecrated elements, and, as
the Vicar or Curate would instruct him, to ''hear Mass" on
holydays of obligation.* It may be said: "Why, then, did
not Dissenters imitate Catholics in the like circumstances and
build schools of their own ? " Certainly, why not ? Moreover,
an Anglican trust- school was surely meant to teach Anglican
doctrine. This, too, will be admitted. Nevertheless, when we
consider how unmistakeably Protestant is the English mind ;
how few of the laity care about dogma; how largely a clerical
movement, and not a popular one, is this High Anglican effort
to set the Church in a place long occupied by '' the Bible and
the Bible alone," we shall grasp the difficulty which embar-
rasses bishops and clergymen who would fain shut their doors
on the new Cromwellians. An eminent Catholic, Mr. Devas.
made that point clear at the Catholic Union meeting in Lon-
don on May 29 last. The Anglican trusts, he said, are subject
to Parliament, so long as the Church of England is established.
Endowments, though made by private persons, if to that
Church, take on them a national character. And the peculiar
reading of its formularies, which High Romanizing Anglicans
affect, is not national.
Thus, also. Nonconformist teachers, quaiified to give secu-
lar instruction and the Cowper-Temple lessons, have been shut
out from thousands of schools by the Church test. How far
this may be a grievance we cannot stop to consider. On the
whole, I should say that it was nothing of the sort. There 15,
however, a strong opposition to all such tests among the Teach-
ers' Union, whose members look on themselves, particularly
since 1902, as a branch of the Civil Service. Their reasoning,
frankly, is absurd! A teacher must have qualifications that we
do not seek in a gauger of spirits or a tax-collector. As the
Dublin Review szys well: "There is no other class of civil ser-
• For evidence on these heads, consult the Report of the Royal Commission touching Ritual.
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646 The Crisis in English Education [Aug.,
vant required in the course of his duties to teach religion."
Yet we must grant that in a school conducted on Evaogelical
principles a Dissenting master or mistress would be fairly at
home. And now the American reader will be able to seize
the main points of our situation, as well as to understand Mr.
Healy's half-sad, half-humorous apology against sacrificing our
poor little Catholic schools to appease the storm which two
sects of Protestants have conjured up between them.
Mr. Birrell, the new Minister of Education, is a Liverpool
Nonconformist, an amiable man of' letters, and personally well-
disposed towards Catholics. He was instructed to draw up a
Bill embodying the so-called principles of ^'popular control"
and "no tests for teachers." By these axioms the party be-
hind him proposed to exclude the clergyman from the school,
to deprive the English Church of its command over the
schoolmaster, to make the dogmatic lesson in every case dif-
ficult, in many impossible, and to pave the way for its extinc-
tion. But they did not want their Cowper-Temple religion to
be set aside. On the contrary, it would now be established
in perpetuum as the Government creed. That, incidentally,
this raid upon the Anglicans would involve the destruction of
, Catholic schools, although the Irish vote had increased the
Liberal majority, gave not a moment's pause to Dr. Clifford,
or to Mr. Lloyd George, the fierce anti-clerical from Wales
In the Cabinet there were divisions. Mr. Morley favored pute
secularism — the American common- school system. So did a
famous group outside, comprising Mr. George Meredith, novel-
ist and champion free-thinker; Mr. Harrison the Positivist;
and the whole of the Labor Party. Concurrent endowment of
all schools under equal conditions— which was the one just
plan — while retaining in each its religious character, the Lib-
erals would not hear of. Under these circumstances the Bill
was brought in.
It made an end of the Voluntary schools. From January i,
190S, all, without exception, were to be managed directly by
local secular Boards. The State would take over as many as
it found convenient ; and the rest would cease to be. One
million pounds ($5,ooD,cx)o) a year should be allocated as rent
from the Imperial exchequer to compensate the trustees; but
the money so granted was not to be at their disposal except
for educational purposes. The buildings shoald remain free to
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i9o6.] The Crisis in English Education 647
them out of school hours. It might form part of the bargain
with local authorities that on two days in the week religious
.instruction, over and above the Cowper-Temple modicum,
should be given ; but not by the regular teachers. This clause
had in view Anglican schools in urban districts of 5,000 in-
habitants, but not in places where only one school existed.
Seventy five per cent being country, not urban schools, all
these would be lost to the Establishment. The fourth clause
was meant for Catholics and Jews under similar conditions. If,
in any hitherto Voluntary school, the parents of eighty out
of a hundred children (four- fifths) expressed their desire, the
Council was free to consider and grant it, z/i>., that the teach-
ers might give dogmatic instruction every day to all who were
not exempted by the conscience clause. No compulsion lay
on the local authorities to fulfil the parents' wishes; and the
bargain, if made, was liable to revision. The appointment of
teachers without tests remained, in all cases, absolutely in
public hands. Thus a Jesuit, in theory, might be set over a
school attended by Methodists, or an Agnostic be found ex-
plaining the Catholic catechism to Irish children in Liverpool.
Nothing more grotesque was ever imagined than the mix-
ture of secularism and Bible Protestantism which the Bill
adopted as its normal standard in education. Logic and jus-
tice were equally wanting to it. The strictly secular, non- re-
ligious scheme, one could understand. It would be fair to all,
though a disaster for the country. And the alternative, to
make provision for each of the groups, from Anglican to Jew-
ish, on the plan which works well in Prussia — that also was
intelligible. Not, however, the attempt to unite res semper dis*
sociabiles, the Nonconformist minimum, the Anglican Via Me-
dia, and the Catholic Faith, in a system where the teachers
underwent no religious examination, and secular ability was
the one ground for choosing them. Catholics, thrust out at
the front door, were to come in by a postern- gate. And then
arose the question of finance, disclosing new perils.
Three judges, said the Bill, are to^be appointed, from whom
there shall be no appeal ; and this modern Star Chamber, as it
was instantly named on all sides, may exercise its powers on
every educational trust in the Kingdom not belonging to the
Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, or to seven public
schools enumerated. The faculties given would appear to have
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648 The Crisis in English education [Aug.,
no limit. This Star Chamber need only express its judgment
concerning the method by which trusts are to be fulfilled, and
its word becomes law. When its year of service ends, in 1909,
a fresh term may be granted, and so the millions of school-
property will forever stand at its disposal. Meantime, the po-
sition of trustees resembles that of Irish landlords under Mr.
Gladstone's Acts. They are brought down to be rent- receivers,
without control over the structure or the soil, the teachers or
the training. Their fate, obviously, is to be bought out and
shovelled aside whenever the district shall tender them what I
call a " Griffith's valuation " for their claim. The very rent
which in certain contingencies (under Clause 3) would be prom-
ised, might by a little dexterity be withheld or taken back
again ; for that, too, is earmarked '' Education." Other enact-
ments provide against conscientious Christians who simply de-
cline to surrender their trusts, and would rather shut up the
schools than hand them to untested teachers. The State will
proceed summarily and with absolute sway in the year of in-
terval, which is to be not a time of grace for the denomina-
tions, but one of forfeiture by compulsion, as when the mon-
asteries fell under Henry VIII. Such are the methods of our
new liberal platform.
How about the future? Would local authorities allow the
Church to build any more schools ? Why should they ? No
mandate was inserted in the Bill. And who would bestow
Catholic money which a Star Chamber could sweep into its
net whenever it pleased ? Our schools are largely taught by
nuns and sometimes by religious brotherhoods; what was to
happen if the Protestant Board refused their services ? Then
the crucifix and other sacred emblems gave offence to Puritans
who, in more than one district, threatened their removal as
soon as the Bill should have passed into law. Whatever shreds
of liberty were left, all would depend on successful bargain-
ing up and [down the land with officials, and every election
would involve a fresh treaty. On the whole, Catholics put no
faith in the ''four-fifths" arrangement. It seemed in their
eyes illusory and impracticable. With a shifting population it
might break down any winter ; it was not the permanent basis
on which to set up new schools, and for the old it was pre-
carious. Yet in the Bill not a line outside these clauses 3
and 4 but was aimed at the ruin of denominational teaching.
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That I do not exaggerate, events have shown. In enor-
mous public meetings our Catholic parents rose against Mr.
Birrell's '' Nonconformist Endowments Bill." Lancashire spoke
out; Birmingham followed; London beheld at the Albert
Hall a gathering of over thirty thousand, who by their splen-
did resolution and perfect discipline impressed all England.
Petitions, speeches, deputations to Whitehall, gave extraordi-
nary momentum to the action of the Hierarchy and the School
Council, which declared the Bill as it stood a violation of civil
and religious freedom. The ground taken was not that of
special privilege but of common rights. Never since 1829, the
date of Emancipation, had Catholics presented so united or so
bold a front. It was magnificent, and it was war. The An-
glican Church — we may fairly claim that honor — fell into line
with us. "Catholic teachers in Catholic schools for Catholic
children," this was our demand, from which there is no sign
of going back. Mr. Lloyd George began to see what it meant
and that it was reasonable. Lord Stanley of Alderley, no
friend of ours, reminded the Dissenters that other people had
a conscience besides themselves. Mr. Lough, of the Educa-
tion Board, repudiated anti-clericalism. The Labor Party broke
on this measure with the Government. All who wanted absolute-
ly secular schools perceived that, if religious instruction were
to be retained, the Catholic argument was unanswerable. Mr.
Masterman, a Radical of culture, perhaps even of genius, told
Dr. Clifford and his allies that the rights of conscience, and
not of "their conscience," were at stake. Mr. Chamberlain,
the real leader of Opposition, though a secularist in educa-
tion, drove this truth home. The Bill went into Committee,
and there its transformation began.
By a majority of over four hundred the House decided
against a purely secular system. England will not have it.
Complete public control of all schools was affirmed. To justify
the clauses granting " facilities," an appeal in case of disa-
greement was allowed on both sides to Whitehall. Thus the
local board could not disregard a properly shaped offer Item
the denomination, nor could this reject the Board's proposal
at its own good pleasure. The fourth clause remained open
("may," not "shall"); but Whitehall could seek a "Manda-
mus" to compel the reluctant Board in a given case. Voting
by the parents was to be taken secretly, by Australian ballot.
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The "four-fifths" schools now lost their promise of rent — a
change intended to soften Dissenters, whom the public agita-
tion had alarmed and the yielding of Government on points
above had irritated. But still greater concessions were to fol-
low. Mr. Birrell, in his first clause, had brought every school
under one system, subject without qualification to his control.
He now permitted "contracting out." As many as would
might go back to the conditions which preceded 1902. So
long as they were efficient, they might earn the Imperial grant,
being managed by a private Board to which the parents should
elect their representatives. Nothing would be paid to these
institutions from the rates. The dual system appeared once
more, though loud opposition was declared against it. Nay,
instead of one type — the Cowper-Temple dear to Dissent — four
might be reckoned, with rules corresponding to each. More-
over, the Government left its followers free to deal as they
chose with two other embarrassing questions : whether, namely,
religious lessons should fall within compulsory hours, and
teachers might be free to give the denominational course where
" facilities " existed.
" Popular control " had now undergone a marvelous change.
" No tests for teachers " would in practice turn to the oppo-
site, for thousands were willing to take the full engagement as
.of old. On the sixth clause, which left religion outside the
school-hours, making it entirely optional to attend, a most
significant division took place. In a crowded sitting, 267
. members voted against the Government, 283 with it. The ma-
jority of 16 showed as in a lime-light how the whole Bill
.would have fared, were party- discipline not kept firm by the
200 Dissenting stalwarts. When such things occur, it is the
duty of the House of Lords to recognize that the country has
given no mandate for the change in question. The school -
hours will not be cut down, nor will religion be treated con-
temptuously, as if a mere "curtain-raiser," to borrow the pic-
turesque phrase which fell from a member when the figures
were announced. But the ministry carried its deceptive con-
science clause on behalf of the school-teachers. They are not
to be examined as to their creed or religious practices; neither
may they give dogmatic lessons under Clause 3. Opposi-
tion has compelled the Government to drop the second part
of the Bill. It has obtained a right of appeal, with Mandamus
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i9o6.] THE Crisis in English Education 651
behind it, where local authorities would ruin our efficient schools.
It has opened a door of escape for those in country districts
by "contracting out/' And religious instruction during school-
hours is now secure.
These are triumphs which Catholics have won for a just
cause. Everything seemed to favor the Nonconformist and his
two hundred chosen warriors. But, in principle and in fact,
he lies beaten. The Bill may pass. It is not likely that the
House of Lords will throw it out. Fresh amendments in the
autumn, leading to more controversy, may be looked for. The
campaign is only in its first stage. Whether we accept the
"extended facilities/' or decide on "contracting out," we run
serious risks. Our schools may be appropriated ; many will be
shut up ; and we cannot hope that our financial burdens will
grow lighter. Nevertheless, one thing has been done, and well
done, which no vicissitudes of fortune can undo. We have
shown that for Catholics religion is not a Sunday coat, to be
worn once a week at meeting. It is flesh of our flesh, and
spirit of our spirit. It is our atmosphere, our life, our philos-
, ophy, our daily guide. For it we refuse the highest price
that Government can offer. We have seen the House of Com-
mons listen breathlessly, while one of our Irish Members made
his grand avowal of faith in Christ and everlasting truth as
the Church teaches it. Listen with admiration, in awed silence,
convinced that a power not of this world was interposing, and
that with such a power even modern England must reckon.
The Catholic heart is sound, the Catholic head clear; hand,
purse, and voice will obey the Catholic conscience. This genera-
tion has never had such an opportunity of proving its faith
by its works. And it has made a noble beginning.
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HAMLET THE DANE.
BY A. W. CORPE.
ER all that has been written on the subject of
hakespeare's most subtle creation, it may seem
uperfluous, if not impertinent, to offer anything
irther upon the subject of his intention in the
character of Hamlet ; yet, while one set of critics
would (as has been said) consign Hamlet to a lunatic asylum,
and according to others, the notion of Hamlet's madness is too
absurd to deserve a moment's serious consideration, it may
not be without interest or altogether unprofitable, to consider
briefly, and avoiding speculation as far as may be, what light
Shakespeare himself has given us on the subject.
The play shows us Hamlet in more or less intimate rela-
tion with the King and Queen, Ophelia, Polonius, Rosencrantz,
and Guildenstern, Horatio, Laertes, and others; we have his
visitations by the spirit of his father; and bis utterances in
soliloquy, these last especially important, and we learn the
impressions produced on those with whom he comes in con-
tact.
Was Hamlet mad? Before going into the question it may
be as well to consider what we are to understand by madness
in this connection. In a sense every perverse action may be
so characterized. Some obscure poet has lived in the line;
" Id commune malum, semel insanivimus omnes'' The physician
would include every lapse of mental function, from the slight-
est down to the ravings of mania, as symptoms of cerebral
disturbance. Lawyers have demanded evidence of distinct il-
lusion on the part of criminals to entitle them to be consid-
ered irresponsible for their actions.
Dryden speaks of great wits as nearly allied to madness,
and Shakespeare himself calls the poet's inspiration a "fine
frenzy." In King Lear we have an illustration of complete
loss of reason ; so extended is the scale with reference to
which we are to assess Hamlet, if, indeed, we are to consider
him "mad" at all.
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i9o6.] Hamlet the Dane 653
Hamlet is first introduced to us in a short scene between
himself, the King, and his mother. He is in the deepest de-
jection ; he has '* that within which passeth show " ; even here»
however, he employs something of the same kind of quips that
he afterwards uses with Polonius. This interview over, he in-
dulges in soliloquy— he contemplates suicide and wishes it were
not contrary to the divine law.
It appears from the soliloquy that the cause of Hamlet's
despondency is, in addition to his sorrow for his father's
death, his mother's over- hasty, incestuous, and utterly unwor-
thy marriage. The key-note to his thought is: "Frailty, thy
name is woman " ; he forebodes disaster :
It is not nor it cannot come to good:
But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue.
We have been already told in the play of the appearance
of the ghost of the dead King to Horatio and Marcellus, and
of their resolution to inform Hamlet of it. Hamlet now meets
with Horatio. It is, 1 suppose, chiefly Hamlet's interview with
Horatio which so impresses us with admiration for bis char-
acter — his noble appreciation of Horatio,
A man whom fortune's buffets and rewards
Hath ta'en with equal thanks. . • .
. . . Give me that man
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
In my heart's core; ay, in my heart of hearts.
As I do thee,
makes us feel that a man with such sentiments could not be
guilty of any baseness. But his general bearing throughout
the play, notwithstanding all — and there is much — that requires
to be accounted for, gives us the impress of a man of refine-
ment, a scholar and a gentleman.
Goethe, in " Wilhelm Meister," calls Hamlet " a lonely,
pure, noble, and most moral nature." Johnson speaks of him
as virtuous, good, and brave. Charles Lamb, as being of a
nice sense of honor and a most exquisite practicer of proprie-
ty. Coleridge notices his -'fine gentlemanly manners" with
Osric.
Horatio, intending as arranged to inform Hamlet of the
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654 Hamlet the Dane [Aug.,
apparition, leads up to the subject of the old King, and the
dialogue is skillfully contrived to introduce the ghost's appear-
ance. ''Methinks I see my father/' the conversation runs.
" Where my lord ? " " In my mind's eye, Horatio." . . .
" My lord, I think I saw him yesternight."
Hamlet arranges with Horatio and Marcellus to hold the
watch on the coming night. Left to himself, he connects the
apparition, of which he has been informed, with his former
ground for uneasiness :
All is not well ;
I doubt some foul play.
Hamlet, Horatio, and Marcellus meet on the platfoim.
The ghost appears. Hamlet hears his awful revelations, and
his terrible injunction, and then a few words of soliloquy occur:
Remember thee !
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
In this distracted globe. Remember thee 1
Yea, from the table of my memory
rU wipe away all trivial fond records,
All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past,
That youth and observation copied there;
And thy commandment all alone shall live
Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmixed with baser matter.
The table of memory reminds him possibly of his college
habit — or is it a reflex action taking the place of thought? —
and he proceeds to make a note :
That one may smile and smile and be a villain ;
At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmark.
Then he recurs to the parting words of the ghost, as if they
were a kind of charm :
Now to my word;
It is *' Adieu, adieu ! remember me ! "
Much of this, as also the '' wild and whirling words *' which
follow as he returns to Horatio and Marcellus, may be ac-
counted for, to some extent, by the shock to the mind occa-
sioned by the supernatural visitant, the dreadful nature o
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I906.] HAMLET THE DANE 655
his revelation, and the terrible charge imposed by him. The
fowler's cries and jesting words may indeed be attributed to
the curious exaltation well known as following a sudden shock,
but it is difficult to account for the note committed to the
tables by any explanation of sound reason, and when Hamlet
repeats to Horatio words to somewhat the same effect, Hora-
tio objects
There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave
To tell us this.
Hamlet calls upon his companions to swear to secrecy con-
cerning the apparition, and informs them of his intention to
keep his own council concerning the ghost's communication,
and hints that he, perchance, hereafter may think meet ''to
put an antic disposition on."
It is to be borne in mind that not only does the first so-
liloquy, beginning
O that this too, too solid flesh would melt,
occur before Hamlet has seen or even heard of the appear-
ance of the ghost, but also that the curious behavior above
referred to occurs before Hamlet has stated his intention of
putting on an antic disposition.
Whether the intention of feigning madness was due to Ham-
let's suspicion that his conduct was open to remark, or whether
it was part of a settled purpose, is really the crux of the play.
It is true that in the old '' Hystorie of Hamblet " the hero
feigns madness, but in that story his feigned madness is the
central point. '' It was not without cause and just occasion
that my gestures, countenances, and words sec me to proceed
from a madness, and that I desire all men esteeme me wholly
deprived of soule and reasonable understanding. . . . The
face of a madman serveth to cover my gallant countenance,
and the gestures of a fool are fit for me to the end, that,
guiding myself wisely therein, I may preserve my life for the
Danes and the memory of my late deceased father. . . .
Seeing that by force I cannot effect my desire, reason allow-
eth me, by dissimulation, subtiltie, and secret practises to pro-
ceed therein."
In this play Hamlet acts the madman in a different sense,
and his feigning tends to defeat the object he had (or should
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656 Hamlet the Dane [Aug.,
have had) in view. If it was to conceal a real want of control,
it is intelligible enough ; it is a piece of cunning with which
every one who has had to do with insanity in its early stages
must be familiar. Now Shakespeare has shown us in another
play real and feigned madness side by side — the difference is
obvious : in Lear the trouble is from within, in Edgar it is a
matter of tricks of manner and speech ; we may expect the
same diagnosis to hold good in this case. Do we perceive,
together with the affectation of oddity, any symptoms of a
graver import?
We next meet with Hamlet in the closet scene, as related
by Ophelia. Ophelia had been warned by her father, and with
dutiful submission had denied herself to Hamlet, and had re-
fused to receive his letters. He comes before her in a state of
dishabille, and without speech goes through the form of a dis-
consolate farewell. It is very commonly assumed that in this
scene Hamlet was practising upon Ophelia, '* trying it on," to
see whether his assumption was successful, and how Ophelia
would take it. Granted that Hamlet had a grievance against
Ophelia, on account of her denial of access and refusal to re-
ceive his letters, it seems quite impossible to conceive any man
with decent self-respect acting so, even without the suspicion
which Hamlet must have had sufficient penetration to enter-
tain of Ophelia's real sentiments towards him. There is noth-
ing in the gestures to indicate that it was not a sincere action
on Hamlet's part, a farewell brought about not so much by
Ophelia's repulsion, for that might perhaps be overcome, as
by his sense of the overwhelming task laid upon him. The
dishabille, certainly, looks rather theatrical, but it was the
recognized livery of the unhappy lover, and it is significant
that the personal note, ''pale as his shirt," an effect which
could not be produced at will, is not found in the earlier
quarto of 1603,
The letter read by Folonius at the Consultation with the
King and Queen does not seem to bear on the case; it was
apparently written before the interdiction. '' Beautified " is
used elsewhere by Shakespeare, and Folonius' objection to it
is of much the same value as his approval of '' mobled " in
the player's speech.
In the conversation with Folonius which follows, it is easy to
see that Hamlet is playing upon him. Well may the old man
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I906.] HAMLET THE DANE 657
remark : ** How pregnant sometimes his replies are ; a happi-
ness that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could
not so prosperously be delivered of."
It is difficult to follow Hamlet's purpose with Rosencrantz
and Guildenstern. The speech in which he says he has of
late lost all his mirth, etc., so different in tone from his banter
with Polonius, bears all the impress of truth, and, as I con-
ceive, describes very accurately Hamlet's true condition. If
otherwise, and it was intended to deceive, how is it to be
reconciled with the statement in the same conversation that
his uncle, father, and aunt-mother are deceived, that he is
only mad north, northwest, and that, when the wind is southerly,
he knows a hawk from a handsaw ?
The scene with the players, in which Hamlet appears in
the full vigor of intellect, introduces us to the soliloquy be-
ginning
O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I !
Here, after upbraiding himself for his lethargy in acting
upon the ghost's injunction, he endeavors to make excuse to
himself by the suggestion that the apparition might be a snare
of the devil through ** his weakness and his melancholy." What
are we to understand by " melancholy " ? It would appear
from the nearly contemporary work of Burton to include every
degree of mental disturbance, from love-sickness to furious
mania. The word is not unfrequent in Shakespeare, and the
case of Jaques at once occurs to us. It is generally used in a
moderate sense to denote a condition of temperament rather
than a derangement of function, but it is evident that some-
thing more than such a condition is intended here. We now
come to the difficult scene in the third act. From the famous
soliloquy, beginning "To be or not to be," we find that
Hamlet still has suicide in his mind, but it presents itself
rather as it bears upon nobility of conduct than as a trans-
gression of the divine law. He contemplates death as a sleep,
he calls to mind that even in sleep one may have troubled
dreams, and so, by an easy transition, the penalties which
our actions here may incur in the world to come arrest him.
But for this who would endure the ills of life — among which,
we observe, ** the pangs of despised love " have place — when
he might so easily put an end to all? This soliloquy gives
VOL. LXXXIII.^42
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6S8 HAMLET THE DANE [Aug.,
us some clue to the irresolution which Hamlet so continually
exhibits :
The dread of something after death
. . . Puzzles the will. . . .
And, thus, enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.
Hamlet had already persuaded himself to doubt the reality
of the preternatural visitation, so it became a question of con-
science whether, in executing the vengeance demanded by the
ghost, he might not be laying the guilt of murder upon his
soul ; possibly, however, he is here as elsewhere trying to in-
vent an excuse for delay. We are to bear in mind that not
only his natural disposition, but also the years he has spent in
philosophical studies at the University, added to the realiza-
tion of the enterprise, might weJl cause him to shrink from
the task. Immediately after the ghost's charge, when he was
inflamed with ardor to execute it, he exclaimed :
The time is out of joint: O cursed spite.
That ever I was born to set it right !
Interrupting his soliloquy, Hamlet suddenly encounters
Ophelia reading a book of devotion; his attitude is free from
any trace of passion and almost tender.
Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia. Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remembered.
She addresses him :
Good my lord,
How does your honor for this many a day ?
Words which seem to suggest that their separation was due,
not to repulse on her part but to indifference on his; and he
answers her coldly:
I humbly thank you ; well, well, well.
She then proceeds to offer to return his presents, and re-
proaches him with unkindness in words so touching that one
wonders how a man of any sensibility could be unmoved. The
effect, however, is to incense him. His passion rises; he de-
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I906.] HAMLET THE DANE 659
nies that he ever gave her any presents. At one moment he
says he once loved her, and at the next denies that he ever
did so. He goes on to insult and upbraid her with a wither-
ing sarcasm, the more cruel for its coldness; protests that
women's falseness and wantonness had made him mad, and bids
her go to a nunnery that she may work no more mischief.
The situation is singularly powerful. Hamlet had loved
Ophelia, according to his subsequent statement to Laertes,
with the deepest affection ; he loves her still, if indeed the
ghost's revelation, his still neglected task, his mother's unhap-
py marriage, and his own perturbation of mind will allow it.
He has been repulsed by Ophelia, which, in addition to the
pain it might cause him, might, considering their relative po-
sition, give rise to some feeling of resentment, notwithstand-
ing that he has good reason to believe that the repulse pro-
ceeded from Polonius and not from Ophelia herself. Ophelia,
her dream of happiness destroyed by her father's unworthy
suspicions; feeling that, though Hamlet's repulse had come
from her, she was in reality forsaken by him ; and, by the
little artifice of offering to return his presents, desiring to show
that her heart was still unchanged, and hoping that she may
win him back, is overwhelmed by Hamlet's fury, which she
unhesitatingly attributes to insanity. She realizes that all her
hopes are dashed to the ground, abandons herself to despair,
and cries :
I, of ladies most deject and wretched.
That stick the honey of his music vows,
. . . O, woe is me,
To have seen what I have seen, see what I see !
We can sympathize with Helen Faucit, who tells us that
once, when acting this scene with Macready, she was overcome
by her emotion.
If Hamlet in this scene is deliberately torturing the poor
girl, who, he knows, sincerely loves him and whose behavior,
he must have been sure, had been imposed upon her, his con-
duct is such as any man, hot absolutely heartless, would rather
die than be guilty of.
The terminology of what has been called " moral insanity "
has been elaborated since Shakespeare's day, but Shakespeare
would not have been unaware of a condition in which, while
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66o Hamlet the Dane [Aug.,
the intellect remained undisturbed, the affections were es-
tranged, and even the moral sense paralyzed.
It is an open question whether Hamlet is aware or sus-
pects that the King and Folonius are concealed behind the
arras in this scene ; we are not told that they are, and we
have no warrant to assume it. When, in answer to his ques-
tion "Where is your father?" Ophelia utters *'her docile lit-
t)e lie," as one critic rather unkindly puts it, it would appear
more probable that Hamlet, if he had known the fact, would
have denounced her on the spot as a liar, much as Othello in
his fury did not scorn to do with regard to Desdemona. It
is not very material, for even if Hamlet's language was in-
tended for the ears of the listeners behind the arras, it was
none the less heartlessly cruel towards Ophelia.
We now come to the play scene. Passing over the, prob-
ably intentional, misrepresentation of the time which had elapsed
since his father's death as immaterial — perhaps he is affecting
loss of memory — we find Hamlet, who appears to be quite
oblivious of the stormy scene of a few hours before, speaking
to 'Ophelia in language which Gervinus, a critic who does not
admit the idea of Hamlet's insanity, is content to describe as
" equivocal," but to which other critics have applied stronger
terms. Strangely enough^ this has been passed over by the
majority of critics as trivial ; but Shakespeare was well aware
of its significance. It did not need Goethe's injurious sugges*
tion, or even the supposition that she might have had such
a nurse as Juliet's, to account for Ophelia's songs; we meet
with the same symptom in Lear's babble during his madness,
and are reminded of his pathetic cry : '' Give me an ounce of
civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination."
Two short soliloquies occur between the play scene and
that with the Queen. In the first Hamlet appears worked up
to the pitch of executing the revenge demanded by the ghost ;
in the second, immediately after the opportunity has presented
itself, he invents an excuse to satisfy himself for not taking
advantage of it so devilish that, as Johnson said, 'Mt is too
horrible to be read or to be uttered." No doubt Johnson was
mistaken in understanding Hamlet's excuse literally as his de-
liberate motive; but Hamlet's moral sense must have become
sadly deteriorated before he could for a moment have deluded
himself into thinking that he was actuated by such a motive.
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i9o6.] Hamlet the Dane 66 i
In the interview with his mother, Hamlet seems anxious to
impress upon her that he is really sane, and this he would
naturally do» the better to enforce what he has been saying
to her. In the course of this interview Hamlet has killed
Folonius, who was hidden behind the arras, supposing it to
be the King who is hiding there. We may concede that, if
it bad actually been the King, Hamlet's assault would have
passed for a righteous execution of the ghost's command; the
action, therefore, is pardonable; and we may probably set
down the unseemly jocularity with which Hamlet treats the
occurrence as part of his assumption of insanity.
The King, growing apprehensive of Hamlet, had formed a
plan for his destruction, by sending him to England accompa-
nied by Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, who bore a sealed com-
mission providing for his death. Hamlet, mistrusting his com-
panions, secretly obtained possession of the commission, and
learning its purport, himself prepared a new commission, pro-
viding for the death of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern instead.
Relating this adventure afterwards to Horatio, the latter, in
surprise, says :
So Rosencrantz and Guildenstern go to't.
Hamlet replies:
They are not near my conscience.
Forgery and murder — for it was nothing less — not near his
conscience ! It does not appear that Rosencrantz and Guilden-
stern were even aware of the effect of the King's commission
they bore, though the expression, '' they did make love to this
employment," rather suggests it. Even so; though Hamlet
might fairly, by stratagem, escape the doom designed for him,
there was no necessity and could be no excuse for his forging
a new commission and consigning them to death.
Meanwhile Ophelia, forsaken by her lover, and her father
slain by his hand, loses her reason. We see her in a scene
perhaps the most pathetic in Shakespeare, in which
Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself.
She turns to favor and to prettiness.
Soon after we learn that she has met her death, acciden-
tally drowned in a brook where she was playing with wild
flowers ; so perishes this gentle victim of love and duty.
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662 HAMLET THE DANE [Aug.,
Hamlet, who by this time has returned to Denmark, while
strolling in a churchyard, encounters some gravediggers making
a grave, which, on inquiry, he finds to be intended for Ophelia.
The funeral train approaches, with Laertes as mourner. Ham-
let, who seems to have forgotten all about Ophelia from the
time of the play scene, now remembers that he had loved her,
as he tells Laertes, ''more than forty thousand brothers.'* He
makes a quarrel with Laertes, and they fight. Shortly after-
wards they meet, and Hamlet asks Laertes' pardon, alleging
that he was the subject of " a sore distraction," that what he
had done was '' madness."
Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? never Hamlet:
If Hamlet from himself be ta'en away,
And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes,
Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it.
Who does it, then? His madness: ii't be so,
Hamlet is of the faction that is wronged ;
His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy.
Johnson wishes Hamlet " had made some other defence *' ;
it was '' unsuitable to the character of a good or a brave man
to shelter himself in falsehood." Certainly, as an excuse, it
was about as mean a falsehood as a man could utter — but
how if it were true?
The King now concerts with Laertes a further scheme for
Hamlet's destruction, which takes effect, involving in the catas-
trophe the death of the Queen and Laertes himself. Hamlet
and Laertes fence as for a wager. Hamlet, mortally wounded
by Laertes with his craftily-envenomed rapier, stabs the King
with the same weapon, and thus at last the vengeance de-
manded by the ghost is accomplished — not without the death
of the avenger.
In these closing scenes, especially, Hamlet exhibits true
nobility of character, and we are enabled to realize the justice
of Ophelia's commendation of him as she knew him in hap-
pier days.
The effect of Hamlet's conduct on others need not detain
us long. It matters little what the King or Folonius might
think. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern could only conclude that
Hamlet exhibited ''a crafty madness." His bosom friend, Ho-
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i9o6.] Hamlet the Dane 663
ratio, his mother, and above all Ophelia, are better witnesses.
No word of commendation or otherwise falls from Horatio
during Hamlet's life, but his valediction is:
Now cracks a noble heart. Good* night, sweet prince;
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest !
And this after Hamlet had just said almost with his last breath:
O good Horatio, what a wounded name.
Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me !
The Queen, after the fight between Hamlet and Laertes,
describes what she had no doubt frequently witnessed before:
Thus awhile the fit will work on him ;
Anon, as patient as the female dove,
When that her golden couplets are disclosed,
His silence will sit drooping.
Ophelia, with the intuition of love (cf. Sonnet xxiii.), is
our surest guide: How does she interpret the scene in which
she took part?
O, what a noble mind is here overthrown I
The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's eye, tongue, sword ;
The expectancy and rose of the fair state.
The glass of fashion and the mould of form.
The observed of all observers, quite, quite down !
. . . That noble and most sovereign reason.
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh ;
That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth
Blasted with ecstasy.
The peculiar appropriateness of '' sweet bells jangled " must
not be missed— the faculties are not lost; it is their harmoni-
ous control which is in abeyance; the result is discordant
clashing.
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SOME NOTES ON THE DREYFUS CASE.
BY JAMES J. FOX, D.D.
I.
^ FEW weeks ago, to the frantic joy of the French
people, and the thunderous applause of the civil-
ized world, the curtain fell upon the last act of
the greatest judicial drama of modern, perhaps
k of any, times. The history of the Dreyfus case,
which for years divided France into two hostile camps, and
threatened to involve her in foreign war, has been so frequent-
ly told in the daily press, during the past month, that there
is^^no need to recall, however summarily, its amazing details.
When Dreyfus was condemned, with every accompaniment
of ignominy, to his living death, in a tropical hell, aggravated
by man's inhumanity to man, there were in France about
30,cx)0 men, and i28,cx)o women, belonging to religious con-
gregations. Their possessions were estimated at four hundred
and ninety- three million francs. The Catholic Church was the
religion of the State, established by law. Military guards of
honor stood at the entrance to the residence of every French
bishop, a papal nuncio resided in Paris, surrounded with all
the pomp and dignity that attends the representative of a
sovereign power; and, in turn, an ambassador of France repre-
sented the eldest daughter of the Church at the Papal Court,
as in the days of his most Christian Majesty. On the day
when Dreyfus was declared an innocent man no religious order
existed in France ; their members in thousands had taken the
road to exile; the Church was reduced to the same footing
as the most petty and obscure sect; her bishops and priests
were no longer functionaries of the State; and France, as a
nation, had ceased to recognize the existence of the tiara.
Between this rapid change in the status of Catholicism and
the fortunes of a mere subaltern officer of the army, however
improbable it may seem on any a priori grounds, there is an
intimate connection.
It will be one of the most delicate tasks of the future his-
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i9o6.] Some Notes on the Dreyfus Case. 665
torian, working in a light not distorted by contemporary pas-
sions, on materials which are only partially known to the pub-
lic at present, to trace the various strands in that complex
network of causes which have in a short period brought about
such changes as the Church of France has undergone since
the time when the estpulsion of Protestantism by the revoca-
tion of the &dict of Nantes left her without even the sem-
blance of a rival in the entire kingdom. The most interest-
ing feature of the historian's task, the key to the whole prob-
lem, will be to investigate how it came to pass that, notwith-
standing the firm conviction of thinkers that the future of a
country is in the hands of those who teach the children and
the youth, though the clergy had full control of the education
of France for ages, yet they lost it in a generation, chiefly
through the instrumentality of their own pupils. But, passons
au deluge.
Present interest, in America, is enlisted in discovering some
reasonable explanation of the present crisis. If we consult the
organs of traditional clerical policy, we shall learn little else
than that the present calamities are traceable exclusively to
the triumph of democratic and republican principles cooperat-
ing with the organized propaganda of satanism, freemasonry.
Naturally, intelligent people on this side of the Atlantic are
not quite willing to accept this account as satisfactory. They
themselves are enthusiastic believers in democratic principles,
and know that there can be no essential antagonism between
democracy and true religion. Nor do they readily believe that
an organization of thirty- eight thousand men could, without
contributory assistance of some kind or another from other
sources, de- Catholicize a nation numbering thirty-eight mil-
lions, renowned for its intelligence no less than for its historic
loyalty to the Church. If we consult many well-informed
writers, who have dared to contradict what may he called the
official account, of the beaten leaders, we shall learn that the
result has been due, not much more to the power of the at-
tack than to the management of the defence. The Catholic
cause has been crippled because its leaders have resolutely de-
clined to open their eyes to the truth, that the age of abso-
lutism has gone and the age of democracy is here. All their
hopes and aspirations have been set upon a corpse, though,
as Leo XIII. said, relative to the subject: ''The corpse of
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666 Some Notes on the Dreyfus Case [Aug.,
Christ on the cross is the only one to which Christians ought
to cling."
They have fallaciously reasoned that because democracy is
the foe of absolutism in political life, it must also be antago-
nistic to the principle of authority in religion. Hence, frcm
this point of view, there could be no question of a good re-
public or a bad republic — any republic is essentially bad. The
salvation of France could be expected only by a restoration
of the Bourbon monarchy, or, that failing, by the advent of a
Bonapartist, or even a messiah like Boulanger — anything, any-
thing rather than la gueuse. A persistent adherence to this
policy, accompanied by a closely related disposition to judge
passing events in the light of theoretical prepossessions has
enabled forces hostile to religion to turn the political power
of the entire country to their purpose.
With all respect to the abilities and knowledge possessed
by that eminent English student of French affairs, Mr. Dell, it
is mere nonsense to treat the French crisis as he does recently
in one of the reviews and in his introduction to the English
edition of M. Sabatier's able book, ignoring the influence of a
powerful, professedly anti-religious party, who pushed the cam-
paign against the Church, not merely out of hate of clerical-
ism, but out of hate for Christianity. Freemasonry is active
in French politics; the power of the lodges in public life is
tremendous. And French freemasonry is avowedly atheistic.
It has placed atheism in its constitutions.
Now masonry does support the Republic. But if all mp-
sons are republicans, all republicans are not masons. The
French peasantry care not a jot whether masons or monsignors
rule the country, provided only they are to be left secure irf
their farms and not unduly burdened by taxation. Yet the
clergy, as a body, argued that, as all masons are republicans,
all republicans are masons. Then they made this fallacy their
guiding principle of action, and by doing so threw the masses
ot the people, and the majority of the electors, into the arms
of the enemies of the Church. ''You see," said the anti-
clericals to the people, ''the priests want to bring back the
monarchy, the nobles, the aristocrats; they want to oppress
you again with the cotvie and the gabelle^ and the thousand
other loads that reduced you to beasts of burden for the bene- *
fit of the priests and the nobles. If you do not wish this.
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I906.] SOME NOTES ON THE DREYFUS CASE 667
stand by us, support the Republic, the protector of your homes
and your liberties.*' And so the French peasants, the backbone
of the electorate, grew to understand that Vive la Ripublique
and Le clericalisme — voilh Vennemi were equivalent rallying
cries. The clergy continued to show their distrust of the con-
stituted form of government, and of democratic tendencies at
large. The bishop who said ''I want no democratic priests in
my diocese," epitomized the ruling policy. The people slipped
away from the influence of their religious leaders, who watched
the spectacle in despairing inactivity, broken only by a ring-
ing of hands, and an unending wail of Les Franc-Mafons^ les
FranC'Mafons / These words explained everything, and relieved
everybody of responsibility.
II.
This flxed idea that freemasonry is diabolically potent for
evil led to an episode — too rich in counsel to be forgotten —
which, besides letting loose on the clergy a storm of ridicule,
no inconsiderable force in French life, provided the anti-cleri-
cals with a welcome object-lesson to illustrate their favorite
theme, that the clergy, who pretend to the guidance of the
world, are the slaves of ignorance and credulity.
About 1879 a Frenchman named Gabriel Jogand Pages
who a few years previously had fled to Geneva on account of
some crime, returned to Paris and, under the name of Leo
Taxil, began a series of publications professing to expose the
secret immorality that pervades Catholic life. He combined
revolting lubricity, as it is to be found in the lowest sinks of
French pornography, with rabid hatred of religion. The title
of one of his books, Les Amours Secrites de Pie IX, ^ will suf-
fice to indicate the character of this stuff. He flourished for
awhile, but his public soon grew tired of his monotonous ex-
travagances; and he dropped out of sight. In the year 1884
the religious press of Italy and France announced the glad
tidings that, as if to give confirmation to the Pope^s recent
encyclical on freemasonry, a miracle of grace had been wrought,
Leo Taxil, the arch-freemason, the reviler of the Church, the
traducer of her ministers, had been converted, and was about
to expiate his crimes by revealing to the world the unsuspected
depths of masonic infamy. The exultation that this news pro-
voked was boundless.' Piety referred to Taxil's conversion in
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668 Some Notes on the Dreyfus Case [Aug.,
terms that might not unworthily be used with reference to
the miracle that befell on the road to Damascus.
Then began a new series of publications, which for ex-
travagance, audacity, and filth were not behind the former
batch. In various literary forms — biographies, confessions, ex-
posures, histories — M. Taxil told the one story which was
singularly simple in substance, though extensively varied in
its circumstantial setting and trimmings. The object of free-
masonry is to substitute the worship of the devil for that of
God. Penetrating to the heart of this nefarious sect, one meets
with Palladism. In the Falladist lodges the devil appears in
person, converses in the most charming fashion with his vota-
ries, receives their reports, and issues his instructions. The
favorite form of worship is the black mass, in which conse-
crated hosts, obtained usually by sister masons who received
holy communion for the purpose, are subjected to infamous
indignities. It may be noticed in passing that the skill with
which M. Taxil studied the tastes of his victims when baiting
his traps is shown by his fixing the headquarters of Palladism
in the United States. He told with a wealth of detail, and in
the circumstantial way of the novelist, what goes on in the
lodges, devoting a special book to the female lodges, the drift
of which may be vaguely surmised. He showed the bloody
hand of freemasonry in many dark deeds of the past; almost
all the Church's troubles were stirred up by its diabolic agency.
The printing presses of Taxil's publishers could not keep
pice with the demand. His confessions were the leading sub-
ject of conversation wherever two or three ecclesiastics met
together. Innumerable books, pamphlets, articles, disseminated
the revelations far and wide; and the writers usually took
care to point out how God had vouchsafed to confirm the
charges which the Church had repeatedly made against free-
masonry in the face of a scornfully incredulous world.
The golden harvest which Taxil was reaping with little toil
from the field of credulity, inspired others to follow in bis
wake. Soon there were several other converted masons of high
rank, who endeavored to make up for lost time by out-herod-
ing Herod. One brought out his exposures in the periodical
form. He conducted his readers, during the course of two
years, through all the chief seats of devil-worship, from Charles-
ton to China, calling at Paris, Gibraltar; Naples, Ceylon, Cal-
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cutta. He showed that the European devil-worshipper can
make himself known to his fellow- Falladists among the Yogis
of India, and in the slums of Hong Kong.
Taxi] and the other impostors succeeded in obtaining very
high ecclesiastical patronage for their labors. A papal nuncio,
archbishops, bishops, and minor dignitaries without number
blessed them, and wrote recommendations for their works. A
learned German Jesuit translated a work of Taxil, and declared
that Taxil's evidence proved freemasonry or devil-worship to
be the logical sequence of Martin Luther. The Commander
Margiotta, another confessor, was made a Knight of the Holy
Sepulchre for having written a certain book, from which a
Roman newspaper alterwards printed extracts, with the result
that the editor of the paper was heavily fined for having is-
sued an indecent publication. In France great things were ex-
pected as a result of the revelations. It would open the eyes
of the people as to the true nature of freemasonry— then the
country would be saved. Anybody rash enough to express
any scepticism as to the trustworthiness of the witnesses against
masonry, was set down as a ''liberal" or a free- thinker in dis-
guise. Had not the Holy See told us the same things? Did
not the Pope witness to the truth of the confessions, by order-
ing that after every Mass the priest should say the prayer in-
voking the assistance of the Archangel Michael to drive satan
back to hell ? Had not the Apostolic benediction been given
to some of the works? And there was a long list of French
bishops who could be referred to as having warmly commended
one or other of the productions of Taxil and his imitators, as
potent instruments for good, and deserving of wide circulation,
that they might open the eyes of the French people.
Taxil's masterpiece and Nemesis was Diana Vaughan.
This young lady had been a high-priestess of Luciferianism,
but was converted. She afterwards entered a convent. Her
whereabouts was known to M. Taxil. But it was to be kept a
secret, lest she should be reached by the poison or the dagger
of the enraged masons, whose innermost secrets she was reveal-
ing. From her holy tetreat she sent forth astonishing revela-
tions on the nature of masonry. M. Taxil conducted her cor-
respondence with the outside world, and conveyed to her the
blessings she received from very high Church dignitaries, as
well as the attacks made upon her veracity. These were also
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670 Some Notes on the Dreyfus Case [Aug.,
answered triumphantly, and gave a singular spice to the whole
affair. A list of Miss Vaughan's titles in masonry will help
readers to form a vague idea of the crude character of this pre-
posterous swindle, which made victims of intelligent men in
positions of grave responsibility. When she quitted masonry,
or, to be precise, April 19, 1894, Miss Vaughan was: Sovereign
Templar Mistress, Grand Mistress of the Perfect Triangle
Phoebe-la- Rose, in the Orient of New York; Grand Honorary
Mistress of the Eleven-Sevens in the Orient of Louisville;
Honorary Member of the Mother Lodge, Lotus of England in
the Orient of London ; Honorary Member of the Perfect Tri-
angle " FIAT LUX " in the Orient of Mexico ; Honorary Mem-
ber of the Perfect Triangle Hockma-Kadeshnou in the Orient
of Calcutta ; Member of the P. T. Tseditk'iou in the Orient
of Buenos Ayres; Honorary Member of all Grand Triangles of
the Memphis, Baltimore, Philadelphia, Charleston, and Boston;
Inspector- General of the New Reformed Palladium with a per-
manent commission; Delegate of the Triangular Province of
New York and Brooklyn, for the sovereign assembly of Septem-
ber 20, 1893; Chevklier of the Order of Isis and Osiris;
Honorary Vice-President of the Knights Templars (Section of the
Little -woods) in the Orient of Philadelphia; Honorary Member
of the Consistory, Director of the Scottish Rite of Perfection
for Louisiana, in the Orient of New Orleans. Will the patience
of the reader permit us to extract Diana's account of her
first introduction to the devil? It took place in Charleston.
After a preliminary course of fasting and prayer, she was in-
troduced into the Chamber of the Grand Palladium, and locked
up alone by Albert Pike. ''The Palladitim is the statue of a
buck- goat, with the breasts of a woman and large black wings.
It belonged to the templars of old, and was called Baphomet
by them. Its last templar guardian was J. B. Molay, and it was
brought to Charleston by Isaac Long, who said he paid the
executioner for the head in Paris where Molay was executed."
There are duplicates of the Palladium, says Diana, in all the
Grand Lodges. After being a short time in the presence of the
Palladium, Diana saw the play begin. Darkness first, suc-
ceeded by blue blazes, thunder, and lightning; the Palladium
looms larger and larger; enter spirits and genii with wings; a
dance ; then the climax. '' I saw Lucifer before me seated on
a throne of diamonds, without any previous indication of bis
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approach. I did not see how he had got in or sat down, or
taken the place of Baphomet. With profound respect I knelt
down before him ; but he forbade me with a gesture and said :
'Get up my daughter; to kneel is humiliating, and I do not
want to humiliate those I love and by whom I am loved.' "
Then follows a long dialogue between Diana and the devil,
concerning the worship of Adonai, the God of the Christians.
Diana has misgivings and behaves in a way that will one day
win for her the grace of conversion. She recounted wonder-
ful stories, such as the transportation in a single night of an
English general from Gibraltar to India that he might be pres-
ent at a stance. But she did not satiate the appetites to which
she catered.
Taxil and his followers continued for years to enjoy the
confidence of their dupes, and to provide the ammunition on
which Catholics relied strongly in the anti*clerical struggle in
France. Independent men of all parties warned the dupes.
Even some of the masonic press assured them that Taxil was
a cheat. Pshaw ! this was discounted as a clumsy trick of the
masons to discredit the noble soul who was doing such valiant
work for the Church.
The close came rn 1896. In consequence chiefly of Taxil's
revelations a commission of bishops and priests met to con-
sider what means should be taken to turn the recent revela-
tions to the best advantage. Taxil was invited to be present.
By this time, a few suspicious people began to remark how
strange it was that nobody had ever seen Diana Vaughan,
nor even met anybody who had, except M. Taxil. He was
told that it was time he should either produce her, for the con-
fusion of doubters, or, at least, allow some responsible persons to
verify her whereabouts. M. Taxil assured his correspondents that
he would completely satisfy everybody. He saw that the game
was up. On the day appointed for the appearance of Diana
Vaughan he coolly presented himself to the assembly, and
told them that he was Diana Vaughan; and that his entire
output of masonic exposures was pure fiction ; that he had
started them with the intention of exploring the extent of.
Catholic infatuation.
The anti-clerical press did not conceal the dramatic fin-
ish of the Taxil episode. Naturally the clergy were reticent
on the subject; and Taxil's authority continued to be appealed
to long after the denouement. Many books, which draw their
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672 Some Notes on the Dreyfus Case [Aug.,
inspiration from the exposures of this era, on the prevalence of
satanism and Palladism, anti-Christ and similar subjects, are
still in circulation. In France the Taxil affair was pointed to
by the enemies of the clergy as an index of the good sense
and open-mindedness of the class that claims the right to di-
rect the consciences of the French people, and of the value of
its judgments concerning freemasonry.
III.
The Dreyfus case provided a still more unfortunate oppor-
tunity for the disastrous play of prepossession and prejudice.
Fourteen or fifteen years ago the anti-Semitic agitation, inau-
gurated by a sensational volume entitled La France Juive^ and
propagated by a periodical under the direction of a violent
Royalist, M. Drumont, had grown to great proportions. la
its propagation almost the entire popular religious press co-
operated, with the consent or the approbation of responsible
ecclesiastics. After the freemasons, the Jews were the sworn
enemies of Christianity and Catholic France. Indeed, it was
scarcely worth while to make any distinction between Jew and
freemason. Both hated the same things, and by common
means pursued a common end. They had by treachery ob-
tained possession of the government of the country through
the republican system. The Jew's purpose was, with the help
of his German brothers, to get possession of France. This
'' man without a country " was the natural enemy of traditional
France and all that derived from it; he would extinguish
French nationality, or fling it under the feet of its hereditary
enemy. The whole country, every department of the Govern-
ment, in the hands of the freemasons, was overrun with spies
who betrayed its secrets to the foreigner. There were spies,
too, in the army. The only hope of France lay in the restor-
ation of the monarchy, which, by the way^ was the only form
of government that offered any support to the Church. Sucb,
in brief, was the gospel preached with religious fervor by
the anti- Semites. The small number of the clergy that dis-
sented from these views did not dare to express its opinion;
for to do so rendered any one an object of suspicion and
reprobation.
At this period the religious orders were flourishing. In
1 88 1, under Jules Ferry, a half-hearted attempt had been made
to suppress some of them. But the measure met with no gen-
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eral approval from the people at large. Soon the religious
houses which had been broken up were re-constituted. The
congregations entered upon their usual avocations. Even the
great colleges remained under their control with the help of
some legal precautions. The religious press had grown bold,
from immunity, and did not hesitate to express, pretty plainly,
its hatred of the existing form of government, and its longings
for another. One of its most powerful organs was La Croix^
sL newspaper conducted by the Assumptionist Fathers in Paris.
It circulated widely through France. Affiliated with it was a
myriad of minor newspapers, diocesan and parochial, a large
number of them bearing the same name, qualified, usually, by
the name of the town or ecclesiastical circumscription to which
each belonged. Conducted with respectable literary ability,
and, it must be confessed, with a good dose of courage. La
Croix and its o£Fsprings assumed to represent Catholic opinion ;
and the public took it at its own estimate.
Then came the trial and condemnation of Dreyfus. With-
out a single exception, this entire press threw itself against
Dreyfus. He was a Jew — what further need was there of
testimony? The anti-Semites triumphantly pointed to the
wretched man as a providential confirmation of the warnings
issued by M. Drumont. The question of the prisoner's guilt
or innocence was made a religious test. For a Catholic to
express an opinion that the Rennes court-martial might have
made a mistake was to proclaim himself not alone a traitor to
his country but also an enemy to his religion. The chiefs of
the army were loaded with thanks for having saved France.
Their action was interpreted as a sign that the sons of the cru-
saders were at length awakening from their sleep. And so forth,
and so forth. During all the long-drawn agony La Croix and
its companions stood, as one man, against Dreyfus. In vain
did Henry confess himself a forger, and Picquart challenge the
incriminating evidence. Henry was a lunatic, or a victim, and
Picquart a traitor who had sold himself for the gold of Jew-
ish bankers. The foreign press was manipulated by Jews and
freemasons. When Zola took upon himself the task worthy
of a better man, the cry was that Dreyfus could be judged
by the character of his friends.
The mere thought that, perhaps, there were German spies
in the army, drove the French people to exasperation. Many
VOL. LXXXIII.-*43
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674 Some Notes on the Dreyfus Case [Aug.,
asked themselves whether the anti-Semites were not, after
all, discerning patriots. But, by degrees, as the case passed
through its successive phases, opinion changed in favor of
Dreyfus. The military clique that condemned him, and sus-
tained the condemnation, lost credit. Then anti-clericals drew
attention to the fact that the foremost pursuers of the victim
were the religious congregations, who, it was said, had shown
themselves unscrupulous fanatics on the watch for any oppor-
tunity to meddle in political affairs to proniote their designs
against the Republic. '' You will see," a well-informed lay-
man had said at an early stage of the Dreyfus case, to a
number of bishops, " that the upshot of all this will be a law
against the Congregations." The bishops shook their heads.
But the layman was right In return for their journalistic zeal,
the Assumptionists were suppressed in igcx). But, reasoned
the leaders of the Left, the spirit of the Assumptionists is
the spirit of all the others. They are all against the Repub-
lic ; let the policy be ''thorough." Waldeck- Rousseau lis-
tened to the advice; and began the work. Combes completed
it, while the nation, as a whole, looked on with but little ex-
pression of dissatisfaction.
The anti -clerical party had learned from the campaign
against the Congregations that Catholic sentiment in France
would not stand in their way if they should elect to proceed
further. The Loubet visit and the affairs of the bishops of
Dijon and Laval gave them their opportunity. The Concordat
was annulled, and Catholicism disestablished. The country re-
corded its feelings about the proceeding by giving the Govern-
ment an increased majority.
No policy, however wise, of the clergfy, probably, could
have retarded very long the separation of Church and State
in France. There can hardly, however, be any doubt but that
this consummation was hastened by the failure of the leaders,
laboring under inherited prepossessions, to take account of the
signs of the times, and to employ all the legitimate means at
their disposal to retain the confidence of the people.
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, .1
IV.
Some of our readers, perhaps, may find it hard to believe
that the estimate conveyed in the foregoing pages of the pre^
vailing mentality among the dominant party of the French
clergy is correct. " How can we believe," we imagine some-
body protests, "that prudent, learned, pious ecclesiastics, ab-
solutely devoted to truth and justice, could misinterpret facts
in the manner you describe, or fail to read correctly signs so
plain that the wayfarer, though blind, need not err therein?"
To any American reader who is inclined to scepticism on this
subject, we recommend a volume entitled UAmiruanume et
la Conjuration AntuChritienne^^ where he will see the manner
in which things familiar to himself are reflected through the
mentality with which we have been dealing. The author has
been closely connected with the episodes that have hitherto
occupied us. As editor of a religious newspaper of high
standing he took a prominent part in the Taxil and Dreyfus
a£Fairs. In the present book he appeals with confidence to
literature that was inspired by the revelations of satanism.
And the title of the work indicates that it has a right to a
place in the literature of anti-Semitism. Nor can any reader
proceed very far through its pages without perceiving that
the writer's prejudices against democracy are chiefly responsi-
ble for the obliquity of his vision. The writer of this paper
first came across this volume in the hands of a young English
lady, who had just come to America after finishing her educa-
tion in a French convent. Before leaving for America, her
confessor, a member of a distinguished order, had warned her
that in the country to which she was going unorthodox views
were rampant among a great number of the priests. To open
her eyes to the dangers to which she was exposing herself in
coming to America, he would give her a copy of Monsieur
I'Abb^ Delassus' valuable book. The author was a learned
man very familiar with conditions in America.
Truly the book is of a nature to impress the stranger with-
in our gates of the need to walk warily when among Ameri-
can Catholics. The thesis of the Right Reverend author — he
* L' AmMeanismt tt la Conjuration AntuChritiennt, Par M. I'Abb^ Henri Delassua,
Chanoinc Honoraire de la M^tropole de Cambrai, Dlrecteur de La Semaiite Religieust de ce
Diocese. Paris : 30 Rue de St. Sulpicc, Descl^c de Brouwer et Cie.
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676 Some Notes on the Dreyfus Case [Aug.,
is now a Monsignor — is, in brief, that there exists among the
Jews a vast and powerful conspiracy against Christianity, and
that the principles and doctrines of this gigantic alliance tally
exactly with characteristic principles and doctrines of Arch-
bishop Ireland, Archbishop Keane, the late Father Hecker and
his followers. No ; this is not a joke. We call to witness the
four hundred and fifty pages that make up this volume, its
wealth of documentation, its lucid arrangement, its logical
method, its earnestness of tone, and the dogmatic finality with
which the author lays down his convictions.
The author starts out by expressing a profound distrust of
America, and grave misgivings that this country is destined to
play a baleful part in the a£Fairs of mankind. Her national
characteristic is audacity : America ** has just now displayed it,
in international a£Fairs, by trampling underfoot every law of
Christian civilization, to lay hands on a possession which she
coveted ! " We shall here and elsewhere leave the reader to
play the commentator, confining ourselves simply to reprodu-
cing the estimates of our author. As the reader proceeds he
shall find that democracy of any kind is nothing but the prin-
ciples of '89 — that is, the French Revolution — and, conse-
quently, is always to be abhorred.
The learned author would not, we are certain, willingly
commit the crime of falsifying a citation, inventing a fact, mis-
interpreting, in an unfavorable sense, a quotation from one
against whom he is pushing a prosecution for heresy or un-
orthodoxy ; yet, as he looks at America, from his far-distant
standpoint, through glasses colored and obscured by prejudices,
he is doing little else but these things from the beginning to
the end. As we read him, the reflection continually arises
that here is an exact reproduction of the methods by which
scribes and speakers of the Exeter Hall and A. P. A. type
demonstrate that Catholicism is reeking with corruption, that
the confessional is an engine of the devil, that there are Jesuits in
disguise in every department of life, or that American Catholics
are all in a conspiracy to overthrow the American government
and hand the country over to the Pope and the Italians. Sim-
ple facts or statements are distorted ; a perfectly legitimate
saying of somebody is spliced on to another saying of en-
tirely different purport by somebody else, and the first speaker
is accused of entertaining the views of the latter. Or, the au-
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i9o6.] Some Notes on the Dreyfus Case 677
thor puts his own interpretation on some detached passage, then
from this premise he draws a conclusion which the origind
speaker or writer never dreamed of and would not for a mo-
ment entertain. The tendency to resort to methods of this
kind against those who hold principles to which we are averse
is not confined to any creed, political or religious. It has a
psychological root, and is the index of a temperament which
in our opponents we designate as bigotry.
No detached instances can convey an adequate idea of the
extent to which these methods are here employed, in absolute
good faith, in order to convict Archbishops Keane and Ireland
and their lt\\o9i»AmMcanistes of being allies of the Universal
Jewish Alliance against Christianity. We must, however, submit
a few examples. Some years ago, it will be remembered. Bishop
McQuaid, of Rochester, protested in the pulpit of his cathedral
against the action of the Archbishop of St. Paul, who had taken
a hand in New York politics. Mgr. Delassus' readers are in-
formed that, so far had Archbishop Ireland gone in the path of
unorthodoxy, that the worthy Bishop of Rochester found it to be
his duty to denounce, " clothed in his pontifical ornaments, and
crozier in hand," the doctrinal aberrations of his erring brother
of St. Paul. A few pages away the reader will learn the as-
tonishing news that this same unorthodox prelate endeavored
to sweep away the denominational schools of his country.
One of the characteristic points of the Anti- Christian Jew-
ish Alliance's policy is reliance on secret societies. American •
istes betray their affinity with this nefarious body by their fond-
ness for secret societies. The damning proof of this affinity is
found in the fact that some years ago Cardinal Gibbons ap-
pealed to Rome in order to prevent the Holy See from con-
demning the Knights of Labor. Contrary to the fact, Mgr.
Delassus informs his readers that the appeal failed, for, he writes,
the Holy See replied that " Catholics must give up these societies
at any cost." After such ignorance on a well-known incident
of ecclesiastical history, one is not surprised to find such gems
of information as that Disraeli was prime minister of England
for forty years, and that Carlyle was an authority on freema-
sonry.
The chain of evidence which Mgr. Delassus brings forward
to establish his first position, that of the Universal Hebrew Al-
liance, is, in all truth, very slender, and has many liAks that
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would not stand cross-examination. But we must confine our-
selves to his charges against the Americans. Having shown by
quotations that the Alliance aims at establishing a universal
brotherhood of man — an idea which some people say is strongly
expressed in the New Testament — the Monsignor proceeds to
establish the identity of views between the an ti- Christian con-
spiracy and the Amiricanistes. For this purpose he submits an
extract from a speech of Archbishop Keane at the Brussels'
Congress, in 1894: "We believe that we have an opportunity
of giving a grand lesson to the entire world. When we study
the map of Europe we can see little divisions marked here,
there, and everywhere. Lines traverse this map in all direc-
tions. They signify not merely territorial divisions; they also
mean jealousies, hatreds, enmities, which find expression in God
knows how many thousands of armed men. Now Providence
has permitted emigration from all these lands to us. All these
nations are repreisented among us ; they live together in peace.
The privilege which God has granted to America is to destroy
these national jealousies which you have fostered in Europe,
and to merge them in American unity." And these sentiments
convict Archbishop Keane of working on lines parallel to those
of the an ti- Christian conspiracy against the Church. The anti-
clerical party in France opposed the religious orders — Father
Hecker wrote that in the future the monastic orders will not
be the dominant type of Christian perfection: Proof that the
aims of Hecker and the French infidels are identical. Many
Jewish writers, as Mgr. Delassus shows, have claimed for their
race preeminence in pluck and enterprise. Mark, now, the
ominous resemblance — Americans are noted for their audacious
self-reliance; and Archbishop Ireland praises Hecker for his
spirit of initiative. And Mgr. Delassus further informs his
pupils that this self-reliant spirit is but a manifestation of the
central tendency of the French revolution — a movement of man
to get rid of God.
Reasoning of this kind constitutes the entire volume. With-
out stretching his methods, Mgr. Delassus might convict us all
of being Mahometans. We all say : There is but one God.
Now Mahometans say precisely : There is but one God ; of course
they add, but the matter is quite irrelevant to the present issue,
that Mahomet is his prophet. Therefore we are all, unconscious-
ly, but none the less surely, helping along the Universal Ma-
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i9o6.] Some Notes on the Dreyfus Case 679
hometan Alliance against Christianity. Should the Jehad, which
troubles the sleep of English statesmen just now, come to pass,
it is quite possible that Americans might be proven to be in
sympathy with it. « There are persons who still believe that
Leo Taxil's final and only real confession was but a deeper
move of masonic guile; the universal approbation expressed
over the last decision in the Dreyfus case has beei\ ascribed to
the control of the world's press by the freemasons, and should
this modest paper have the honor to fall under the notice of
some people, it may be cited as. confirmation of the sympathy
of American Catholics with the anti- Christian conspiracy.
Are the losses sustained by the Church in France final, or
do they carry no compensations ? Already brave voices are
heard above the general jeremiad uttering words of cheerful
hope. The Church is divorced from the State. — True, but she
is also free from the shackles el the State. She need no longer
consult Caesar before rendering to God the things that are God's*
Her clergy, in future, must depend upon the faithful. — So did
the Apostles and their successors for ages. So does the clergy
throughout the English-speaking world, where Catholicism is
flourishing like a willow beside the running brook. But the
Church will be poor! — When the Church was very young her
Master commended her to his Lady Poverty, and she never
suffered ill while under the protection of that faithful guardian.
Her evil days came when, from the top of a lofty mountain, the
Tempter dazzled some of her children with a vision of the king*
doms of this earth and the riches thereof. In this democratic
age there is a fresh meaning in the Scriptural warning : Put not
your trust in princes. Let the whole clergy of France, second
to none in the world for virtue and devotedness, go forth to
their own people with the same missionary spirit which has car-
ried French missionaries to the end of the earth. Then the dry
bones of the plains shall come together and be clothed with
flesh, and Faith shall repopulate the desolate cities.
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flew Books.
As readers of The Catholic
WESTMINSTER LECTURES. World are aware, this series con-
sists of a number of popular lec-
tures, delivered by prominent clergymen in London on the
fundamental, truths of Catholic faith. The intention of those
who started this course of lectures has been to provide an
antidote for the loose and inaccurate scepticism which has made
itself felt in all classes of society. And, rightly, with a true
insight into the nature of their task, the promoters decided
that the most effective means of combating prevalent errors is
not to attack them, successively, with destructive criticism, for
that were an endless task; but to present, clearly and simply^
the contrary truths. The present numbers* handle the two
most fundamental doctrines of, respectively, natural and super-
natural religion. Evidently, when confronted with the task of
presenting either of them within the compass of a single lec-
ture or a slim booklet, the author's chief perplexity must be to
determine whether he shall give a sketchy outline of the
entire subject, or confine himself to the consideration of some
pivotal point, or some predominant factor of his problem.
Monsignor Barnes, very wisely we think, chose the latter
method. He confined himself to showing that there is no need
for a Christian " to shrink from full investigation into the
origin of the books which he has been brought up to consider
sacred." If the results of criticism, such is the drift of his
argument, have at first sight appeared subversive of Catholic
estimates of the Bible, a more matured judgment has found
nothing in the established results of investigation incompatible
with Catholic belief. Furthermore, he is willing to concede
that criticism has, in some respects, placed the historical author-
ity of the Gospels on a firmer basis than that which traditional
views granted to them.
The lecturer on the existence of God preferred to essay a
broad and general treatment of his subject; that is, he gives
a sketchy outline of the classical theistic arguments, from mo-
tion, from causality, from necessity, from perfection, from de-
sign, and from law, or conscience. We doubt whether this
• Westminster Lectures. TMt Witntss of the Gospels. By A. S. Barnes. The Exittemct
of God. By Canon Moyes, D.D.
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 68 1
was the better plan. The limitations under which the lecturer
spoke compelled him to be content with a treatment too super-
ficial to bring out the full force of his arguments, and an
emasculated presentation of an argument is worse than none
at all. With all respect for the traditional scholastic group,
we think that the fact that so loyal a scholastic as Father
Rickaby omitted the argument from motion in his translation
of the Summa contra Gentiles^ might have suggested to Canon
Moyes the propriety of giving to some of the others the time
which he devoted to that one. Again, in accordance with
traditional procedure, he scarcely insisted enough on the full
content of the argument to be drawn from man's moral nature.
Yet it can hardly be disputed that, whatever may be the com-
parative intrinsic values of the metaphysical and the moral
arguments, the latter, when properly handled, is far more likely
to make an impression on the current agnosticism which, while
impatient of metaphysics, is willing enough to concede the
moral postulates which, the apologist can show, imply the ex-
istence of a personal God.
It would, we believe, be well worth the attention of the
Westminster editors to consider whether they ought not, be-
fore publishing lectures of this kind, to enlarge them so that
each printed number might contain a more complete treatment
of the great apologetic questions. An oral lecture can last
scarcely more than an hour and a half. Yet few of the great
religious topics can be more than skimmed over in that time.
The value of the series would be greatly enhanced if, when
complete, it should constitute a fairly comprehensive, com-
pendious statement of Catholic apologetic. If we turn to
French, we shall find just the ideal that is desirable. Under
the title of Science et Religion the firm of Bloud et Cie,* are
issuing, with marvelous rapidity, an admirable series of little
volumes, each containing about sixty- four compact pages in
i2mo, dealing with a host of questions, all of vital interest,
relative to the bearing of modern science and criticism on
Catholic philosophy, ecclesiastical history, the constitution,
doctrines, and admioistration of the Church. Each subject is
treated by a master. The method and grasp exhibited in
every treatise is such as is looked for in a dissertation pre<p
• Scienct et Religion: Etudes por les temps presents, 335 volumes publics, o ^r. 60 le
vol. Paris : Libraire Bloud et Cie., Rue de Repnes.
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682 NEW Books [Aug.,
seated to obtain a 'degree in the sacred sciences. Some of
them are masterpieces from the pens of eminent specialists.
The whole collection, which continues to grow, forms a library
that, when completed, will comprehend a little cyclopedia
bearing on religious questions and topics about which every
cultured Catholic desires to read. With some amplification
the Westminster series, under the able direction of its editor
and promoters, might become the nucleus of a similar collec-
tion for the English-speaking mrorld. The value of such a
library can scarcely be over-estimated.
In nine essays,^ originally prepared,
SELF-KNOWLEDGE. we surmise, as public addresses.
By Fr. Maturin. Father Maturin sets forth his con-
ception of the function fulfilled by
self-knowledge and self-control in the work of building up a
character to be the fit embodiment of the Christian ideal. He
teaches plainly, forcibly, effectively. There are didactic works
on religion which, though they should be read with consider-
able attention and no lack of docility, would fail to make an
impress on the reader's character or conduct. Father Maturin's
volume, though it lays but little stress on the formal and ex-
ternal elements of the religious life, goes straight to the heart
of things, and insists upon a practical, vital, virile attitude on
the part of the disciples who venture to claim Christ as Mas-
ter. There are great thoughts in these pages; there is splen-
did inspiration ; best of all, there is much common sense. No
one but a man of spiritual insight could have originated the
suggestions with which the essays abound. No one but a man
of experience, wide, deep, and true, could speak so prudently
and practically on the problems and issues which confront the
aspirant after holiness. Strong and clear and cheerful ; attrac-
tive, wise, and true; these are the qualities of Father Maturin's
counsels. As to the form, one could desire that a little more
attention had been given to the finishing of the addresses when
about to be presented in their present permanent fotro. But
the defects of form are trivial, and will scarcely be noticed by
any one who appreciates the substance, in which there are no
flaws.
• Self-Ktiowledge and Self-Discipline, By B. W. Maturin, formerly of Cowley St. John,
Oxford. New York and Bombay : Longmans^ Green & Co.
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This volume * consists of a collec-
A BOOK OH THE ANGELS, tion of sermons and papers from
eminent Anglican divines on the
angels. The editor has arranged the contents in a fairly sys-
tematic order, so as to make the whole a compendium of the
knowledge afforded by the Sacred Scriptures concerning the
heavenly hosts. The tone of the writers is uniformly devout ;
the language frequently rises to genuine eloquence. Nowa-
days, when the bald rationalism of utterances that frequently
come from men who eat the bread and profess to teach the
doctrines of the Church of England, is nothing short of shock-
ing, a book like this one, breathing the spirit of unflinching
faith in supernatural revelation, is as refreshing as the shadow
of a giant rock in a desert land. The twelve plates which
embellish this tastefully executed volume are good photograv-
ures of famous paintings.
The name of this writer is known
PEARL. in London literary circles through
By 0. K. Parr. a volume of religious poetry and
another volume of children's poems
celebrating the River Dart, an account of Buckfast Abbey, in
Devonshire, and a remarkable article in Temple Bar entitled
••The Children's Cardinal," the name which she gave to the
late Cardinal Vaughan. The present volume f is a bright, lively
little novel, with a plot that has often furnished a subject for
writers of edifying fiction. Nevertheless the present writer
lends it an air of originality through the freshness of her
staging. The narrator is a maiden of a certain, that is of an
uncertain, age, who confesses to being ••neither pretty, clever,
well-born, nor beloved of man." She admits, too, that she is
not religiously inclined. She tells the story of a young, high-
bred girl, half-English, half-French, a loyal Catholic, who comes
as a visitor to the house of her aunt, who is a most uncom-
promising dissenter, with a good old Cornish abhorrence of
Papists and Papacy. The heroine, after a sharp struggle, gains
her liberty to practise her religion ; makes friends with the
Protestant rector and his charming family ; gains the heart of
the magnate of the neighborhood; but refuses, to marry him
*A Book on the Angels. Edited by L. P., Compiler of The Inheritance of the Saints,
New York : Longmans, Green & Co.
t Pearl; or, a Passing Brightness, By Olive Katherine Parr. St. Louis : B. Herder.
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684 NEW BOOKS [Aug.,
because he is not a Catholic; and finds, as her recompense, a
way to reconcile love and duty. Loyalty, character, and good
sense, rather than piety, are the weapons with which she
achieves her triumph. The writer has a fund of humor which
frequently verges upon the satirical.
Nobody intending to visit Rome
WALKS IN ROME. should fail to procure a copy of
By P. J. Chandlery, S.J. this guide book.» It contains an
account of every church, every
shrine, and every venerated spot within the city. The history
of every place and object dear to the pilgrim is related; and
all the hallowed associations connected with them recounted.
During his long residence in Rome Father Chandlery came to
know and love every one of them. As his book is intended
for the pious pilgrim, not for scholars or students, the author
does not play the critic or learned cicerone. Nor does he enter
into competition with Baedecker as a guide to objects of purely
secular interest. But within his four hundred odd closely
printed pages he has compressed a wonderful amount of infor-
mation that will add immensely to the interest and edification
which everybody draws from a visit to the sacred treasures of
the Eternal City. The less favored ones who must stay at
home may, by a perusal of the book, make a sort of spiritual
pilgrimage that will be replete with interest and instruction.
The title of this imposing workf
CHRISTIAN APOLOGETICS, scarcely conveys a hint of its vast
By PAbbe Picard. scope ; for it extends over the en^
tire field of apologetics, as far as
supernatural religion is concerned. The first volume opens with
an introduction to establish the historical value of the Gospels.
Then follows a detailed commentary on the history of our
Lord's life; which is succeeded by an analytical study of the
facts in order to bring out their testimony to Christ's charac-
ter of miracle-worker and prophet. The author then consid-
ers our Lord from a psychological standpoint, successively, as
orator, painter, dialectician, and educator. The sanctity, the
^ Pilgrim Wtdks in Rome: A Guide to the Holy Plates. By P. J. Chandlery, S.J. Sec-
ond Edition. With a Preface by Rev. John Gerard, S.J. St. Louis : B. Herder.
\ La Transcendance de Jiius Christ. Par I'Abb^ Louis Picard. 2 vols. Paris: Plon-
Nourrit et Cie,
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 685
moral characteristics of the Master, are next passed in review.
In the course of his discussion the author examines, and re-
futes, innumerable rationalistic objections and theories bearing
upon a host of points. Finally, he summarizes the result of
the examination by which the divinity of Christ is established.
The second volume is entitled La Predication du " Royaunte de
Dieu " et la Fondation de r£glise. The notion of the king-
dom as exhibited in the words of Christ is first defined. Then
a conspectus is made of Christ's teaching regarding God, an-
gels, purgatory, hell, and heaven. We proceed next to the
teaching of Christ concerning himself, as Son of God, Messias,
Redeemer, and Judge of the living and the dead. Then the
author treats of the transcendent character of Christian morality.
The writer's underlying aim is to convey a perception of
the devotion to Mary which was part of the atmosphere of
the Middle Ages — a devotion in which blended, in a manner
that sometimes seems almost grotesque to our prosaic age,
childlike confidence and familiarity, chivalrous sentimentality,
and profound religious reverence. The material has been drawn
from well known published works, and in some instances from
original MSS. in the British Museum. And the editor, or
translator, with happy results, has exercised the editorial privi-
lege of expanding, condensing, and, occasionally, combining
different versions, as his taste has suggested. He has pre-
served throughout a quaint, archaic flavor in phrase and vo-
cabulary that suits the matter and enhances the pleasure of
the reader. With few exceptions the stories, like most of the
mediaeval legends, contain some spiritual or moral lesson, for
which they were loved and preserved in the popular memory.
The surprising frankness that char-
SCIENCE AND THE BIBLE, acterizes this contribution * to the
By PAbbe Lefranc. current biblical controversy might
suggest that the name on the title-
page is a pseudonym intended to indicate the spirit of the
author. He examines the various theories offered in the past,
to harmonize the Mosaic accounts of creation, the chronology
of Genesis, and the history of - the Deluge with scientific
knowledge. These attempts at reconciliation have, he argues
iu the line which Fathers Hummelauer, Prat, and Lagrange
*Les Con flits de la ScUnce et dc la Bible. Par I'AbM E. Lefranc. Paris: E, Nourry.
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686 NEW BOOKS [Aug.,
have ma^e familiar, utterly broken down. [Hence, if the
Church is to be exculpated from the mistakes of obsolete
theologians and exegetes we must renounce the position that
the Mosaic histories are always in correspondence with fact.
The writer puts his conclusions in phrases so bold, and evinces
so much impatience with certain traditional formulae, that,
while one cannot withhold from him the praise of honesty and
sincerity, one must doubt whether he is altogether prudent in
advocating and practising a policy that spurns the reservations
dictated by even moderate and conservative caution. And this
doubt is not mitigated by the fact that the volume is not
decorated with the customary authorization.
This collection * of miraculous his-
MEDI-ffiVAL LEGENDS. tories and mediaeval legends con-
By UnderhiU. cerning the Blessed Virgin pos-
sesses a literary quality very much
superior to the standard that prevails in our popular religious
literature. The author's purpose is to ''re- introduce to English
readers a cycle of old tales in which their ancestors took great
delight — a by-way of mediaeval literature which, from one cause
or another, is now practically unknown except to professed
students of folk lore and hagiography." The first momentary
impression made by a hasty look into the book is a prompting
to question whether the writer intends anything more than a
literary effect. But, as one begins to read, it soon becomes
clear that, while the graces of literature are sedulously and
successfully aimed at, there is also a clear purpose of edifi-
cation.
Mr. W. L. Lockwood is a good story-
TRAILERS OF THE NORTH, teller, ai)d seems to be familiar
By Lockwood. with the Great Lone Land, and
the £1 Dorado lying further north.
These seven short stories f of the mining camp and the forest
trail, where man displays his elemental qualities, are full of
exciting situations that bring into play the tenderness, courage,
or steadfast friendship that is hidden in men whose exterior is
as rugged as the land of snow and ice in which they struggle
for gold or for life.
* The Miracles of our Lady Saint Mary. Brought out of diverse tongues and newly set
forth in English. By Evelyn Underhill. New York : E. P. Dutton & Co.
t Trailers of the North, By William Lewis Lockwood, New York : The Broadway Pub-
lishing Company,
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i9o6.] New Books 687
There is a growing opinion among
CITY GOVERNMENT. American educators that the time
By Willard. devoted to the course of ** civics "
or " civil government " in schools
and petty colleges does not bring adequate fruit. The National
Municipal League has urged that the course should be sup-
pressed, and the time now given to it devoted, at least in city'
schools, to the study of city government. The advocates of
this measure urge that the pupil can learn more easily the gen-
eral principles of government by studying their workings in
the city, because he comes in personal contact with the facts.
Besides, one of the needs of the country is to implant in the
coming generation of urban populations a high idea of those
duties of citizenship which belong to them as members of a
municipal electorate. This little book * is offered as a text-
book for pupils in higher schools, or, where the curriculum
does not include this study, for private reading. It treats of
the organization of city government, the purpose and powers
of the various departments, the administration and supervision
of public utilities, ways and means to beautiiy a city, and the
various forces which contribute to debase or strengthen official
activity. The writer endeavors to inspire a high ideal of pub-
lic duty. The pupil who masters this book will have acquiredi
at a minimum of effort, a substantial measure of useful infor^^
mation.
In these meditations f spiritual
MEDITATIONS ON THE truth is expressed with almost
GOSPELS. Gospel- like directness and sim-
plicity, entirely free from the dis-
figurement of sentimentality and hackneyed conventionalism.
Indeed, so large a proportion of the meditations is so made
up of well-chosen scriptural texts, the import of. which is force-
fully brought out, that there can be no doubt but that the
author, who has hidden his identity, was a master of the spir-
itual life, who had drawn his wisdom from the fountain-head.
As a consequence, his pages provide food, not for a particular
class of persons, but for the Christian soul, whatever may be
its station.
♦ City Government for Young People, A Study of the American City. Adapted for School
Use and for Home Reading for Children. By Charles Dwight Willard. New York : The
Macmillan Company.
t Meditations on the Mysteries of Faith and the Epistles and Gospels, For each day and the
Principal Feasts of the Year. By a monk of Sept-Fonds. Translated from the French by the
Religious of the Visitation of Wilmi igton, Delaware. 2 vols. St. Louis : B. Herder.
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Chiefly owing to the high merit of
A LIVING WAGE. this volume,* the academic dis-
By Dr. Ryan. tinction appended below to the
author's name, has, since publica-
tion, given place to the ampler one of S.T.D., or, in more
popular form, D.D. This book was presented by Dr. Ryan as
a dissertation for the doctorate in the Catholic University at
Washington. In the end of May the candidate underwent, with
signal credit, the usual searching examination, the greater part
of which bore upon matters involved in the dissertation. In
one or two instances, the examiners pushed Dr. Ryan very hard
in their efforts to make him surrender his fundamental position •
but he "stood four-square to every wind that blew."
The character of the work cannot be more pithily expressed
in a few words, than in those of Professor Ely, of the Univer-
sity of Wisconsin : *• The writer of this book presents to us, in
the following pages, a clear-cut, well-defined theory of wages,
based upon his understanding of the approved doctrines of his
religious body." Apart from the intrinsic value of the volume.
Dr. Ryan deserves thanks for having had the good sense and
courage to undertake a work of this character. The Church
claims that her Catholicity extends to time as well as to space;
and that the doctrine of life, of which she is the guardian, con-
tains the rule of truth and justice for all conditions and com-
plexities of human existence, provided its universal principles
are brought to bear upon actual conditions. If, however, we
look through our contemporary theological and ethical litera-
ture, we shall find that it contains very little which represents an
endeavor to apply principles to the special condition of to-day.
We have, in plenty, works setting forth, in voluminous iteration,
Christ's rule of — Do unto others as you would have them do unto
vou. We have multiplied treatises on Ethics that expound the
basis of rights and duties, the origin of private property, and
other fundamental doctrines. But writings of this kind stop
short at the enunciation of first principles, whereas the crying
need just now is to apply these first principles to the perpleic-
ing questions of our day. To be sure, we have many recent
publications concerning the social and economic problems. But
here, again, we meet with what Professor Ely calls *' vague and
* A Living Wa^e. Its Ediical and Economic Aspects. By the Rev. John Augustine
Ryan, S.T.L,, of the Archdiocese of St. Paul. New York : The Macmillan Company.
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i9o6.] Neiv Books 689
glittering generalities/' which, however brilliant and fascinat-
ing, are about as servicable towards meeting practical wants, as
sunbeams are for cooking a beefsteak. Books of another kind,
of which there is no lack, are those which issue a needed warn-
ing against the extravagances and anti- religious animus of the
socialism of Max and Bebel. But how deplorably few are the
Catholic writers — or speakers, for that matter — who have de-
voted themselves to showing the world that Catholic moral
teaching condemns the gigantic wrongs which, planted in the
very vitals of the present system of society, have given social-
iism a reason for existence, and furnish to socialists the "gall
to make oppression bitter ? " If there is, as every thinker who
has placed himself on record on the subject affirms, a radically
pernicious feature in the economic system which compels thou-
sands to toil and live in surroundings that foster moral degra-
dation, in order that enormous riches may be put into the
pockets of a few, the world may reasonably expect, not alone
a protest, but also a remedy, from the teachers who claim, to
represent divine truth, justice, and love. Recently in Washing-
ton a prominent senator, in conversation with a very eminent
Catholic prelate, complained of the attacks that are made, so
vigorously, against the United States Senate ; and expressed the
hope that the Catholic Church would prove, as ever, the loyal
defender of law, order, and the rights of property. The emi-
nent prelate might have replied that law, order, and the rights
of property cannot be defended by the Church unless they are
in conformity with the eternal principles of justice; and that
the rights of labor are, to put it gently, no less sacred than the
rights of capital. Dr. Ryan deserves the praise of having un-
dertaken the task of demonstrating that Catholic principles are
not mere abstract and barren axioms, but vital, practical laws
of life, that will be found to harmonize with and complete the
practical results of scientific students in the realm of facts.
The credit due to him for the conception of his task is
doubled by the manner in which he has executed it. Thorough-
ly acquainted with all authorities on political economy, economics^
and ethics, he has done his work in scientific fashion. The
reader will notice that he possesses, in a high degree, the rare
quality of being able to look at facts objectively, not through
the distorted medium of some pre-conceived theory or con-
viction.
VOL. LXXXIII, — 44
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690 New Books [Aug.,
As we follow his reasoning and interpretations we get the
impression that here is a man who is not looking for argu-
ments to justify an opinion that he holds, but is weighing ar-
guments to arrive at a conclusion. The theological critic, even
though he be of the kind that considers novelty synonymous
with heterodoxy, will find that the author takes care to fortify
himself well on the side of tradition. The public that cares
nothing for the claims of Catholic authority, and has little re-
gard for Catholic doctrine as such, will follow him with inter-
est on the broad grounds of rational ethics.
In the following words the author announces his purpose:
'' Upon one principle of partial justice unprejudiced men are
in substantial agreement. They hold that wages should be
sufficiently high to enable the laborer to live in a manner
consistent with the dignity of a human being. To defend this
general conviction by setting forth the basis of industrial, re-
ligious, and moral fact upon which it rests, is the aim of the
present volume."
After an introductory section dealing with the economic
and legal presumptions against a Living Wage, and the authori-
ties in its favor, the author lays down his Views on the basis,
nature, and content of the right to a Living Wage. He next dis-
cusses, with special reference to American conditions, the vari-
ous facts by which that right is conditioned — the number and
prospects of our underpaid laborers ; our industrial resources ;
the forces that regulate price. Finally, Dr. Ryan sets forth
the consequent obligations of the capitalist, of the State, and of
the laborer himself.
We are tempted to offer some striking quotations from the
doctor's pages. But the limits of a brief review forbid. A few
of the theses embodying his position that were maintained by
the doctor in his public examination will, in some measure, in-
dicate the scope of the work and the breadth of Dr. Ryan's
views. The right to a personal Living Wage is merely the con -
Crete form of the laborer's right to decent livelihood.
The right to a family Living Wage has been denied by some
Catholic writers, and inadequately explained by others. In terms
of money, a Living Wage would seem to mean for the adult
male laborer in American cities an income of not less than six
hundred dollars per year.
Since the employer is the immediate beneficiary of the la-
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i9o6.] NEW BOOKS 691
borer's exertions, and the seller and distributor of the products
of industry, he is the person who is primarily charged with the
obligation of paying the laborer a Living Wage, before he bet-
ters his social position or pays himself interest on his invested
capital.
We must take leave of this remarkable book with one cita-
tion, to which emphasis will be given by the perilsal of the
volume that is noticed next in these reviews. After observing
that thousands of employers, of all denominations, who fancy
that they are living up to the moral standard of their religion,
pay their employees grossly unjust wages, Dr. Ryan issues an
exhortation to teachers and moulders of public opinion : " If
clergymen would give as much attention to preaching and ex-
pounding the duty of paying a Living Wage as they do to the
explanation of other duties that are no more important, and if
they would use all the power of their ecclesiastical position to
deprive recalcitrant employers of the church-privileges that are
ordinarily denied to persistently disobedient members; and if
public speakers and writers who discuss questions of industiial
justice would, in concrete terms, hold up to public denunciation
those employers who can pay a Living Wage and will not;
the results would constitute an ample refutation of the libelous
assertion that employers cannot be got to act justly by moral
suasion. They have never been made to feel a fraction of its
power." Students will benefit by the carefully selected classi-
fied bibliography that accompanies the work.
The growing indifference of the
CHRISTIANITY AND THE great majority of the working
WORKING CLASSES. classes in England to Christianity
Edited by Haw. has long been a subject of serious
alarm, not only to religious guides
of all complexions, but to laymen who view with dismay the
ebb of religious faith. The portentious fact may, to those who
take a superficial view of things, appear to have little practical
bearing on the interests of American Catholics. It may. be. said
that English conditions differ from conditions here. And the
present exodus from Christianity among the English masses is
but the inevitable consequence of Protestant error and struc-
tural weakness. The old proverb, however, animadverts unfa-
vorably on the wisdom of those who are pleased to remain dis-
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interested spectators when their neighbor's house is on fire.
And with the present condition of things in France, we can
hardly afford to twit English Protestantism with its inability to
hold the masses within its folds. The present volume* is well
worth serious study. We may not, perhaps, need to study it
for the purpose of finding a cure for an actual evil ; neverthe-
less, it may be valuable as suggesting precautions against future
possibilities. It consists of eleven papers, des^ing with the ex-
tent and intensity of the present religious defection, its causes,
and the means that are available for counteracting it. The con*
tributors are men widely differing in social and professional
station, as well as in their religious views. But every one of
them is thoroughly competent to speak on the subject from his
own point of view. Several of them are clergymen of different
denominations, who have had long experience in relig^ious and
social work ; others are prominent members of the Labor Party ;
and the names of some are already known by works that they
have published on topics akin to the one dealt with here.
The most striking feature of the symposium is that almost
all agree in affirming that in investigating the problem, as the
editor puts it, '*the first thing that stands out is the deep
distrust of the churches. Christianity is not assailed, but
Christians. The teaching is rather upheld, to the detriment
of the teachers. Nowhere is a word breathed against Christ."
Another writer, Mr. Hocking, a prominent student of social
problems, declares : ** It appears to be generally assumed that
the masses of the people are not only religiously indifferent,
but are in a condition of absolute antagonism to Christianity.
This assumption I believe to be false. That antagonism exists
there can be no doubt — widespread and invincible — but it is not
to Christianity, but to the Church. Rightly or wrongly, there
is a growing belief among thoughtful workingmen that the
Church has ceased to represent Christianity; that the candle-
stick has been removed ; that the cisterns are broken, and will
hold no water." What are the reasons that have led the work-
man to this conviction ?
Though there is not the same unanimity here, as in the
former case, in the answer to this question there is a general
agreement on some points. Extracts from several of the papers
* Christianity and the Worhin^ Classes. Edited by George Haw. New York: The
Macmillan Company.
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 693
might be given confirming the views expressed by Mr. Hender-
son, a Labor Member of Parliament. He repudiates the charge
that the workingman is more vicious than his social superiors.
Nor will he admit that agnosticism is making much headway in
the ranks of labor. But, he says, the workman has been driven
to the conclusion that the churches have become subservient
to the interests of wealth and class distinctions. And, a still
more powerful factor in the workman's mind, the churches have
shown no sympathy with the new hopes and aspirations of our
democratic age. "The churches have not appreciated the real
meaning and true inwardness of many of the movements which
the workers themselves have initiated and developed for their
social and industrial amelioration. Hence these movements have
been treated with critical aloofness or active opposition, till they
have become strong and have received the stamp of popular
approval. . . . The absence of a true Christian ideal has
been a powerful iactor in influencing the working-class mind.
The masses have looked on and seen the churches make it their
business to care for the spiritual and moral wants of the com-
munity. They have seen provision made among their members
for the cultivation and development of devout feeling and tb^
higher Christian graces '* ; but, he continues, " the principles of
Christ are not applied to all departments of life '' ; the devopt
Christian and the representatives of the Church consider it
none of their business that the workers live in conditions utterly
irreconcilable with the Gospel. Other writers insist upon the
support which the churches have given to the barriers of caste,
and to the effects of ecclesiasticism in making the ministers of
the Gospel, themselves, a class apart from and above the people.
Again, Mr. Hocking accuses the Church of having done nothing
for the suppression, of wan "It defends war to-day with as
much passion and zeal as it defended slavery a century ago.
To the Church's eternal disgrace, it must be &aid that the move-
ments in favor of peace and arbitration — like the movements iq
favor of temperance and the abolition of slavery — have grown
up outside the Church. The Church has allied itself with the
man of blood in all Christian countries. In fact, war is tacitly
regarded as a Christian institution. It has its recognized place
in our rota of prayers. We send our chaplains to the battle-
field to encourage and console the fighters. We get pious pre-
lates to bless our warships and other implements of destruction.
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694 N^^ BOOKS [Aug.,
We offer public thanksgiving to heaven when we have worsted
our enemy."
Another theme upon which there is a striking consensus is
that the working people are not to be won over to religion by
those who assume a lofty, patronizing air as they dole out from
their abundance some measure of assistance in the form of
charity. Such proceedings only serve to fix more deeply the
attention of the toiler on the injustice of the conditions under
which he drags out his existence.
An eminent clergyman, the Dean of Durham, speaks of the
workingman's case with a sympathy that is almost socialistic
The English toiler, he says, though without the romantic tem-
perament of the devout Breton peasant, and not sufficiently
educated, as a rule, to be captured by purely intellectual ap-
peals, has, nevertheless, a deep fund of religious feeling. ** Our
best chance with him lies in practical appeals to him for moral
betterment. His intellectual efforts may be rough, and leading
to no vista of diviner knowledge; his thoughts go naturally to
the practical problems of his life ; he broods over the hardness
of his lot, compared with that of others whose equal difficulties
he does not see at all; nor can he be enamoured of the three
score years and ten of one monotonous form of toil, under-
taken not for the joy of work but for bread; it leads to the
wealth of others, while he remains within hail of the work-
house. No wonder that he 'is irritated by the unjust divisions
of life; everything is like a fate against him, depressing him,
conspiring against him, making very difficult even so simple
and rudimentary a matter as the creation of a tidy home for
his wife and little ones. So when the preacher preaches to
him of the compensations of another Hie he slips away, be-
cause he will have none of this; he wants his state redressed
now, he wants help for his manful working for it; and indeed
he naturally resents the deferring of betterment to a dim and
uncertain future." So Dean Kitchen proposes, as the only
way to win back the masses to the blessed spirit of religion,
to " preach the frank law of justice ; the rule of love ; the
triumph of equality and democracy." "Every one of us" he
concludes, " should stand by tolerant freedom, and control
our thoughts and opinions, our prejudices and fancies, by the
b*elief that in the coming regeneration of mankind, our mental
and social natures, warmed by the sun of Christ's love and
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I906.] NEIV BOOKS 695
sacrifice, will rise at last to St. Paul's ideal : ' Unto a per-
fect man unto the measure of the stature of the fulloe^s of
Christ/^
This book will repay the thoughtful reader with many val-
uable suggestions. Its general tenor runs in harmony with the
views and purpose expressed by Pius X., in the document which
he issued ih the beginning of his pontificate, when he declared
that his whole aim should be, Instaurare omnia in Christo, If
the gentlemen who give .their views in this volume have cor-
rectly gauged the situation — and they know what they are talk-
ing about — the Gospel message has still good soil to fall upon,
which is now bearing only a rank and noxious vegetation of
religious indifference.
Father Sheran is professor of lit-
LITERART CRITICISM, erature at St. Paul's seminary.
By Dr. Sheran. Minn., and is eminently fitted by
his long studies at Oxford and
elsewhere, and his wide range of experience in the professor's
chair, to give the academic world something new in methods,
and valuable in matter in the way of A Handbook of Literary
Criticism,* These notes of Dr. Sheran prove interesting reading.
The author's presentation is somewhat novel. Instead of
making writers of note dominate his book, and lending his
pages to a discussion of their works and their style, he takes
literary forms as the leading chapters, and under these heads
g^ves his notes of authors and the more valuable publishec}
criticisms of their works. This method contributes to concise-
ness, comprehensiveness, and a more virile grasp of literary
criticism. Having discussed literature as a fine art, the author's
topics of prose forms are: The Letter, The Essay, Biography,
History, The Oration, The Novel. Under each of these heads
he classifies in a skillful way, by the aid of general criticism,,
each writer. Under poetic forms he treats Poetry, The Drama,
The Epic, The Lyric. A most minute and comprehensive in-
dex is added.
This matter-of-fact statement of Father Sheran's book will
readily commend itself to our teaching communities. The work
will prove of undoubted value to teachers and scholars in the
higher classes.
^ A Handbook of Literary Criticism. An Analysis of Literary Forms in Prose and Verse
for English Students in Advanced Schools and Colleges, and for Libraries and the General
Reader. By William Henry Sheran. New York: Hinds, Noble & Eldredge.
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60 New Books [Aug.,
Unless we are greatly mistaken
THE NEW FAR EAST. here is a book* which will cause
By Millard. many Americans, especially among
the worshippers of the Japanese, to
rub their eyes, and re-examine the reasons which they have for
their estimate of the Mikado and his people. A long and inti-
mate acquaintance with Japan and China, an observant mind,
find a judicial temperament, qualify Mr. Millard to speak with
^thority on the subject which he treats here, fully and syste-
matically, in three hundred odd pages, of which not one will be
skipped by any intelligent and serious reader. He proposes to
examine the new position attained by Japan, and her influence
upon the Far Eastern question, with special reference to the
interests of America, and the future of the Chinese Empire.
It may be said at once that he does not share the common un-
discriminating admiration for the Japanese. He considers that
they have, to a great extent, with surprising adroitness, hood-
winked the world, especially the American world, into a very
false estimate of their national character, aims, and conduct,
alike before, during, and since the recent war. And the burden
of his book is a warning to America that the Jap, in China and
Korea, is, warily, cunningly, and persistently, doing his best to
oust America, and all the Western world as well, from the
great tracts of the East in which he is unscrupulously pushing
his influence by fair means and foul. The author begins by
declaring that whoever would attempt to gain a correct knowl-
edge of the Eastern problem, as it stands to-day in its porten-
tious reality, must cast into the rubbish- heap prevailing opinions
of Japan — which, he shows, have been largely created through
Japan's own skillful manipulation of public opinion, by un-
scrupulous means, through the Western press. ''The average
person in America and England now finds himself imbued with
an impression that Japan is a miracle among the nations; that
her national purposes and ambitions point straight to the path
of universal altruism ; that she has generously sacrificed the
blood and substance of her people in the cause of right and the
broad interests of humanity and civilization, in a war unjustly
and unexpectedly forced upon her; that the Japanese are the
most patriotic, the most agreeable, and the 'cutest' people ever
known ; that the Japanese soldier and sailor are the bravest the
• The New Far East, By Thomas F. Millard. New York : Charles Scribner's Sons.
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I906.] NEIV BOOKS 697
world has ever seen, and their standard of excellence unat-
tainable by Westerners." Almost every item of this opinion
is traversed in the course of Mr. Millard's lengthy examination.
He passes in review the events which led up to the war; the
social, economic, and political position of Japan at the out-
break; the seizure of Korea; the gradual suppression, skillfully
veiled under diplomatic disguises, of Korean independence; the
policy of Japan in Manchuria. He next takes up the whole
Chinese question, and the course pursued with regard to it, by
England, France, Germany, and America. He contends that,
although England acceded to the '* open-door" policy when it
was firmly insisted on by Secretary Hay, she was then, and is
now, quite prepared, for selfish reasons, to support the antagonis-
tic " Spheres of influence " policy which is in favor with Japan
and Germany, but which will be, if it prevail, a death-blow to
American influences. The recent boycott of American goods
that was organized in China was, according to Mr. Millard, pro-
moted, in an underhand fashion, by the Japanese government,
which aims at the exclusive appropriation of the Chinese mar-
ket. Though he fully recognizes the unscrupulous character of
Russia's political, administrative, and diplomatic methods, he
maintains, and enforces his assertion by ample testimony, that,
for ways that are dark and tricks that are vain, the Jap is not
an inch behind the Russian. On the other hand, he has a high
opinion of the Chinese, for probity, industry, Smd capacity.
Unless China is dismembered in the near future, in the interest
of the European nations who ardently seek this consummation,
China, Mr. Millard thinks, will awake and exhibit a marvelous,
though unaggressive vitality. But this revival is not, as many
pretend, likely to be directed by Japan, though Japan will
strenuously endeavor to exploit it for her own benefit.
With regard to the "Yellow Peril," Mr. Millard expresses
his judgment as follows : '' I cannot agree with those who,
drawing mistaken conclusions from her recent military successes,
profess to see in Japan a serious menace to Western civiliza-
tion. While I am strongly disposed, basing my opinion upon
past and present evidences of her true policy, to believe that
Japan has both the desire and the will to bring about such a
consummation, I feel confident that she has not in herself the
strength to accomplish it. But China has the latent strength.
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698 New Books [Aug.,
united to that of Japan and other peoples susceptible of being
included in a 'The Orient for the Orientals' policy, to make
such a doctrine practically applicable to Asia; and it is this
fact that embodies in the future of the Chinese Empire a sig-
nificance to the West far beyond the possibilities involved in
the development of industry and commerce, and admonish it
to look to its fences." To look to its fences is, in fact, the
message which Mr. Millard addresses to America. Japan and,
as the ally of Japan, England are enlisted, with all their re-
sources, against the interests of America in the East. Ger-
many is, with brutal frankness, working for any development
that will give her the opportunity of grabbing definitively for
herself the rich province of Shantung. Japan's domestic condi-
tion is precarious; her hope lies in making the most she can
of China and Korea. Under these circumstances America
must, whether sh^ will or not, take a hand in the situation,
and wakcta slie asserts herself with firmness she will have rea-
son to regret her confideace in her European and Japanese
friends. Of the many books and papers that have been pub-
lished lately on the present topic, none can compete with this
one in interest or as a source of intelligent information and
temperate opinion upon what is undoubtedly one of the great
crises in the history of mankind. If Mr. Millard believes that
his experience and observation qualify him to give the public
some appreciation of the religious and ethical position of Ja-
pan, we should look forward with great interest to a future
publication on the subject. The present volume touches only
once, and that incidentally, on any topic directly relating to
those subjects. But this single instance is so very significant
that it deserves to be reproduced: "As to the ethical founda-
tions of Japanese character, about which so much that I con-
sider to be nonsense has been published, I can think of noth-
ing more illustrative than the proposal of Marquis Ito, at the
time when Japanese statesmen came to fully realize the neces-
sity of cultivating a sympathy for Japan throughout the West,
to adopt Christianity as the national religion. Although this
extraordinary suggestion was hailed in some quarters as ah in-
dication of Japan's yearning towards better things, it really
demonstrated that the people entertain no ethical belief that
will not be sacrificed to expediency."
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 699
We are happy to note the growing excellence and the on-*
ward progress of this newest contemporary,* which comes to
us from the Far West.
Begun less than two years ago, in a very modest way, by
the zealous pastor of Fresco tt, whose purpose W9s to advance
Catholic interests, to uphold Catholic education, and to keep
the local public informed as to Church happenings, the publi-
cation has developed into a bright and interesting magazine.
The July number marks a high point of excellence in the pro*
fuse and excellent illustrations, in the variety and freshness of
its more than seventy pag^ of matter.
Let us hope that Arizona, already so rich in the wonder^,
beauties, and treasures of nature, in the romance of adventures,
will, by the labors of such zealous Catholics, be no less fruit-
ful in the deeds of Catholic living, in the marvels of spiritual
grace — for the two go most fitly together. Our best wishes for
success to The Western Catholic Review.
NOTE.
The article on ''The Value of Non-Catholic Labor in
Franciscan Fields of Study," which was to be part of the
symposium in the June Franciscan number of The Catholic
World, will be published in our September number.
• TAe Western Catholic Review, Prescott, Arizona, July number, 1906.
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Current JEvente.
The prospects of peaceful devel-
RuBsia. opment in Russia look very dark.
Although many observers of the
course of events who are on the spot assure us that the days
of the autocratic despotism have gone for good, the anarchical
state into which the country seems to be falling renders it not
improbable that a dictatorship may be thought to be necessary
by those who have the power to take that step. There seems to
be no truth, no order, no unity, nor any person able to bring to
an end the existing chaos. For more than a month the Goremy-
kin ministry has been upon the point of resigning. The ques-
tion of personnel is, indeed, a matter of very little importance in
itself. That which agitates the country, the Tsar, and the Duma
is a question of principle, whether, that is, ministers are to be
responsible to the Duma^ as in England, or to the ruler, as in
Germany. The Duma is all but unanimous in insisting upon the
ministers being responsible to it, and have treated every other
question, even the agrarian, as subordinate. The wisdom of this
is doubtful, the breach between the old and the new would be
too abrupt Let the Duma use wisely the powers which it has,
and these powers will grow greater. Rumors h^ve been fre-
quent that the Tsar had yielded to the demands of the Duma^
but so far those rumors have proved unfounded. The oppo-
nents of all change, in Russia as elsewhere, find in the atroci-
ties which accompanied the Revolution in France the warning
against any concession. It would be more reasonable to learn
from these atrocities that the well-being of the people should
be so assiduously sought by those who exist for thftt purpose
that there could be no wish for any revolution with or without
atrocities. The Z7i/iyia, however, is determined- to show how
far from shedding blood are its designs. The first law which
it has done all within its power to make is a law which abol-
ishes the death penalty for all political crimes. Strange to say,
capital punishment was abolished in Russia two centuries ago;
and still remains abolished for all except political crimes. In
this way, as in many others, Russia offers a strong contrast to
Western civilization. This re-introduction of capital punish-
ment for political offences is, of course, due to the cruel and
despotic character of the government, such as has been mani-
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i9o6.] Current Events 701
fested even within the last few weeks by the execution of chil-
dren. To all this the Duma has sought to apply a remedy ;
but the law has still to be approved by the Council bf the
Empire and by the Tsar.
The character of the government is revealed by a method of
procedure which, we are thankful to say, has no word in the
English language by which to name it — we mean the pogrom.
The evidence seems clear that when, for some reason, the Jews or
any other part of the population become obnoxious to the gov-
ernment officials, systematic steps are taken by them to organize
an outbreak, and to have the objects of their hatred murdered,
outraged, and robbed — the police and the military being, if not
agents, at least connivers at the proceedings of the mob. The
evidence that such has frequently been the case seems pretty clear
from an impartial analysis of the events which have taken place
in Odessa and many other localities, so far as any investigation
has been possiblie, yet it was hard to believe that so-called
Chi-istian men, even when in power, would be guilty of such
wholesale cruelty and injustice. Prince Urusof!, a member of the
Duma^ formerly Governor of Bessarabia and Tver, and Assist-
ant Minister of the Interior under Count Witte, has removed
all doubts by a speech which he made, in which he revealed
the inner workings of the secret government which organized
these butcheries. The Prince did not allege that the Tsar's min-
isters openly and avowedly organized massacres as an act of
government ; but he found indubitable proof that many minor
officials were guilty of active furtherance of the pogroms^ and
strong ground for the belief that General TrepofT was cognizant
of these methods, and that he connived at them. Incendiary
proclamations, for the purpose of exciting the mob against the
destined victims, were distributed by high functionaries, and
it was presses installed in premises belonging to the Minister
of the Interior that supplied many of these proclamations.
The resignation by Prince UrusofF of his position as Assistant
Minister of the Interior, under Count Witte, was due to the
fact that he found himself utterly powerless to correct these
abuses. He does not believe that the Count was personally to
blame, still less the Tsar. It is the power behind the throne
that, in Russia as in many other places, causes mischief.
The spread of discontent and open mutiny in the army
seems likely to remove the prop and mainstay of the auto-
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702 Current Events [Aug.,
cratic power. This discontent has penetrated into the ranks
of the choicest troops, and it is estimated that some twenty-
five per cent of the soldiers are affected. When armies be-
come so large that they embrace a great proportion of the
population, they cannot fail to share in the ideas which have
become popular, and so their very size renders them weaker
and less reliable in any conflict with the people. The want of
money is another thing which contributes to curb the power
of the government. Financiers are not always promoters of the
well-being of a country; but in this case it is said that they
have given the Tsar and his advisers clearly to understand
that no more loans can be made except with the approval and
consent of the Duma. These considerations might render it
hopeful that a new era of something like a constitutional gov-
ernment was at hand, were it not that the peasants seem now
to be losing control of themselves, and to be wanting in that
patient endurance which is necessary to secure well-considered
and stable reforms. From all parts of Russia there come re-
ports of destruction of property, and other forms of violence,
which indicate lawlessness and unfitness for self-government, and
distrust on their part of the ability of the Duma to secure reforms.
By acting in this way they are playing into the hands of their
exploiters, and giving a justification for the taking of strong
measures for the defence of the rights of the jest of the nation.
And within the last few days there comes the sinister rumor
that Austria and Germany have promised to take action in
Poland, should the Tsar so wish. So great is the state of un-
settlement that the projected visit of the British Fleet to Cron-
stadt — a visit which was an indication of the long* talked- of
rapprochement between the two countries — has been abandoned.
Altogether the prospect is very dark.
And the prospect has grown still darker, for since the above
lines were written the Duma has been dissolved by an Imper-
ial Manifesto. The reason for taking this step the Tsar declares
to be that, instead of applying themselves to legislation pro-
ductive of the great reforms for the benefit of the people, to
enact which he had summoned them, they had striven to in-
terfere with the fundamental laws which could only be modi-
fied by himself, and had also been guilty of illegal acts lead-
ing to disturbance. The Tsar declares that, although for those
reasons he dissolves the present Duma^ it is not his intention
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i9c6.] Current Events 7P3
to abrogate the institution, but proposes to order the election
of a new Parliament by a Ukase addressed to the Senate. M.
Goremykin has been relieved of his office of Ptemier, and M.
Stolypin, the Minister of Agriculture, has been appointed in
his place. The members of the dissolved Duma fled to Finland,
and have issued a Manifesto to the nation, calling upon the
people not to pay taxes and to refuse to serve as soldiers.
The Tsar acted undoubtedly within his legal right, sp far as
legal right can be said to exist in a country where one man's
will is the sole law. Whether he is sincere and firm in the
purpose of calling a new Duma^ no one can tell, at all events
as to the firmness. But the questions of supreme importance
are, how the people will act, especially the peasants and work-
men, and whether the army will side with the people. There
is reason to fear that at the back of the Tsar there are two
foreign potentates, giving counsel, and perhaps offering support.
There is very little to record with
Germany. reference to Germany. Additions
continue to be made to the navy,
a new cruiser having been launched, another of 15,000 tons
ordered, as well as a battleship of 18,000 tons. During the
present Emperor's reign 24 battleships have been built, and it
is the intention to build more and larger ships. Several ob-
solete vessels have been put out of commission. This indicates
the steadfast purpose of Germany to become a sea-power. As
the Second Burgomaster of Hamburg assures us, all that is
being done is in the interest of the peace of Europe, in order
that Germany may possess a navy which can command re-
spect. "God has preserved peace for U0, peace with honor,
and may he continue to give us this blessing," were the terms
of the Emperor's reply.
In promotion of the same object — the preservation of peace
— a number of German journalists have been paying a visit to
England as guests of the Anglo-German Friendship Committee.
They have been warmly welcomed, entertained at banquets, at
which members of the Ministry made speeches and gave utter-
ance to the strongest desires for the maintenance of peace.
As an illustration of the spirit of the times, it may be men-
tioned that the party made a pilgrimage, not to the tomb of
the Apostle of Germany, but to that of Shakespeare. Here
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704 Current Events [Aug.,
the editor of the Berliner Tageblatt addressed the company as-
sembled round the grave. He said that they stood on holy
ground. Shakespeare was the source of God like thoughts.
So great was he, that he stood solitary and alone. It was a
matter of astonishment that such a man could ever have ex-
isted. All Germans were educated in Shakespeare, from him
their classic authors had received inspiration. The visit seems
to have convinced the journalists that no desire exists in Eng-
land for a war with Germany, and some of them have, on their
return, taken pains to impress this conviction upon their fellow-
countrymen. But the danger of war, if such there be, will have
its source in higher quarters.
The colonies of Germany still form a cause of anxiety to the
people at home. In Southwest Africa there are natives still in
revolt after more than two years of military operations, and in
East Africa, where things seemed quiet, fresh disturbances have
taken place. Peace, however, has been restored. But it is not to
natives alone that the German colonial troubles are due. Grave
scandals have arisen from the conduct of the Governor of one
of the colonies, and even in the Colonial Department at home
there have been serious breaches of trust on the part of officials.
At the age of forty-seven the Kaiser has become a grand-
father, the Crown Princess having given birth to a son. The
succession of the House of Hohenzollern is thereby assured to
the third generation. The words on the lips of every one in
Berlin on this auspicious occurrence were *' Three Emperors,"
just as on the birth of the present Crown Prince, during the
life-time of the Emperor William I., the picture of the "Four
Emperors " was everywhere exhibited. The Prussian capital
manifested the liveliest satisfaction at the joyful event.
The relations between Austria and
Austria-Hungary. Hungary seem to be returning to
their normal state. After an in-
termission of two years, the Delegations which arrange the mat-
ters that are common to the two countries have held their ses-
sions, have received the reports of the Ministers, and have made
satisfactory arrangements. Members of the Hungarian Delega-
tion attacked Count Goluchowski, because they looked upon him
as the adviser of the reprimand given last autumn by the Emperor
to the Coalition on the occasion of the ''five minutes audience."
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i9o6.] Current Events 70s
They even passed a vote equivalent to a censure upon him,
and hope to drive him from his office as Foreign Minister*
In other respects the Hungarians have been more tractable, the
bill for raising the recruits for the Army having passed and
the taxes voted. In order to emphasize, however, the dis-
tinct and separate nationality of Hungary, the members of the
Hungarian Delegation protested against the practice in use
hitherto of designating the departments of government common
to the two countries as Imperial, a use which seemed to them to
imply that there was a government superior to the governments
of Austria and Hungary. In this as in other points they gained
their end and the word Imperial is no longer to be applied to
any institutions common to the two countries.
The feeling of Austrians against Hungary has become very
bitter. The demands of the Transleithan kingdom seem to them
so unjust, and her success in attaining them so great, that many
of the people of Vienna have become exasperated, and have
shown their exasperation in a way not likely to facilitate the
peaceful settlement of the existing difficulties. After a meeting,
in which between • 5,000 and 20,000 citizens of Vienna took part,
the cry Los von Ungarn was raised, and the whole body pro-
ceeded to demonstrate their hatred of Hungary in front of the
building where the Hungarian Delegation was sitting. Seme
of the demonstrators carried a placard representing M. Kossuth
on the gallows. Apologies were, of course, at once made by
the Austrian Premier, the King himself declaring that such a
breach of hospitality ought to have been impossible. What
progress has been made in the re- arrangement of the relations
between the two parts of the Dual-Monarchy has not been
made known ; but as there has been no change of ministry,
there is reason to hope for the best. Both in Austria and in
Hungary the reform of the franchise will be the first step
to be taken.
For the past three years the im-
The Near East. pending rebellion of the inhabi-
tants of Macedonia has been avert-
ed, whether because the peasants have been exhausted by tte
events of 1903, or because they have been hoping that real
reforms might result from the efforts of the Powers in their
behalf. , The Miirzteg programme, which imposed upon Turkey
foreign commanders of the gendarmerie^ has been carried into
VOL. Lxxxiii. — 45
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706 Current Events [Aug.,
execution in a modified form, and was supplemented last year
by a scheme for the control of the finances. All those ef-
forts, however, have caused, the friends of the Macedonians
say, no real change in the situation. The country is the scene
^ constant bloodshed, nor have the gravest evils been even
checked. The reform schemes have proved inadequate to
cope with the elemental evils of civil war, outrage, murder,
and brigandage. The country is still red with blood. To ag-
gravate the situation a conflict has arisen between the Greeks
and certain inhabitants of Macedonia, called Vlacks, allied in
blood to the Roumanians. The Vlacks seem, up to a recent
period, to have been allied to the Greeks, and to have been
supporters of their claims against the Bulgarian and the other
nationalities. But quite recently their own national feelings
have led them to pursue their own separate interests, and they
have seceded from the Greek cause and set up their own. In
this they have found support from Roumania. The Greeks
disapproved of this conduct, and expressed their disapproval at
first by social pressure, boycotting, denunciation, and in some
instances refusal of the sacraments. These measures not hav-
ing proved effectual, more drastic steps were taken. Vlacks
who would not support Greece were not fit to live, and Greek
bands have been accordingly doing their best to exterminate
them. To this Roumania replied at first by remonstrances and
then by expelling Greeks from Roumania, and last of all by
breaking off all diplomatic relations with Greece. Such are
the proceedings of the Christian nations in the face of the
common foe. Christians are, as usual, their own worst enemy.
Were it not for their culpable selfishness that stronghold of
lust and cruelty, the Turkish Empire, would long ago have
been destroyed. But, so far from being destroyed, there seems
reason to think that its power is growing. Travelers in Africa
assert that Mohammedanism is an aggressive power in that
continent, that it has made large conquests and is still adding
to them. The recent conflict between Turkey and Great Bri-
tain is by some considered to be due to the growth of a Pan-
Islamic movement, and the ferment in Egypt, which is con-
sidered so serious by Sir Edward Grey, is another indication
of the same energizing force. The attitude of Europe to the
hosts of Mohammed has too often been a pitiful spectacle, and
is no less so in our own days than in the past.
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i9o6.] Current Events joy
One effect of the victory of the
France. government at the recent General
Election is to render it independ-
ent of the Bloc — the union, that is, of Radicals and Socialists
which effected the separation of the Church and State. As a
consequence, a conflict has arisen between the former allies.
The Socialists found their spokesman and representative in M.
Jaur^s, a man of great eloquence and force of character. The
Socialists seem to think that the yoke of the middle classes,
who dominate in the world at present, is just as oppressive and
as unjust as was that of the nobles whose power has been ex-
tinguished, and much more sordid and even squalid — that for
the sake of gain the vast majority of the people is systemati-
cally oppressed. M. Jaures advocated the ownership of prop-
erty by the State, the abolition of individual ownership, whether
with or without compensation he would not say, but he pro-
mised to formulate within a few months, in a series of Bills,
his conception of a new social order. He did not contemplate
the use of violent means in order to establish a really demo-
cratic state, in which all privileges would be abolished, and an
end put to all the existing evils. The scheme of M. Jaures
did not meet with the approval of the Chamber, nor even with
that of all the labor representatives. One of the latter seemed
to fear that the Socialists, if possessed with power, might be
as tyrannical as the capitalists, and the violence of the demon-
stration of disapproval with which his remarks were met by
the Socialists seemed to indicate that he had just reason for
his fears. The Labor representative agreed with M. Jaures in
the denunciation of the wage-system as serfdom, but looked
for a remedy not in the abolition of private property, but in
the acquisition of property by the proletariat, and he too has
promised to prepare a series of bills for facilitating this acqui-
sition. It was in this way that the working classes would be
made free men. He claimed that as supporters of this plan
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7o8 Current Events [Aug.,
very good speech, and to indicate a real appreciation of the
many evils of the present organization, and a willingness to
adopt any effective remedies. But among the vast number of
conceivable social regimes, that of the Collectivists was, in the
opinion of M. ClemenceaUi the most opposed to liberty, and
a more complete, social justice would be brought about by the
programme which the government was striving to carry into
effect. This programme includes a measure modifying the
mining laws, determining the circumstances in which mining
companies' concessions may be rescinded, and introducing a
system of profit-sharing in all future concessions. The Cabi-
net also pledged itself to make every effort to pass through
the Senate the Workmen's Pensions Bill. It will also allow
the State employees to form unions; but, on the other hand,
will expressly refuse to them the right* to strike. The Cham-
ber showed itself decidedly and decisively hostile to the So-
cialist programme, as might be expected of the representatives
of so thrifty and individualistic a body as the French peasants.
The preparations for war last year involved very large ex-
penditure, and a consequent deficit. Among the expedients for
raising the money which is necessary, an Income Tax is pro-
posed which, of course, will fall in the first instance upon the
wealthier classes. A noteworthy feature of the proposed tax
is that a difference will be made in the rate of assessment be-
tween an income derived from invested capital and one derived
from toil, the rate upon the latter being, of course, lower than
that on the former.
The interminable Dreyfus case seems to have at last come
to an end, the highest court having decided that, not only is
he not guilty, but that there never was any case against him.
Forgery, perjury, inhuman prejudice — how these and other forms
of iniquity could have had such a dominating power, and have
been so powerful for so long a time against a man who is now
declared to be both morally and legally innocent, is a question
which it is easier to ask than to answer. It speaks well for
the highest French tribunal that it should have had the cour-
age to confess to the existence of so much past wrong-doing,
and to do everything possible in atonement.
The second Peace Conference at the Hague is soon to as-
semble, and there is reason to hope that, like the first, it will
be productive of good. There does not, however, seem to be
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i9o6.] Current Events 709
any practical response to the desire expressed by Sir Edward
Grey, the English Foreign Secretary, for a diminution of arma-
ments ; on the contrary, not only Germany but France as well
are increasing their navies. The French Minister of Marine,
M. Thomson, has announced the intention of laying down no
fewer than six iron- clad warships this year; and it is under-
stood that the English Cabinet itself has been forced to abandon
its proposal for reducing the rate of increase of the British navy.
The entente with Great Britain is declared by observers of
political developments in France to have taken a firm hold of
the mind' of the people as a whole. The visit of representa-
tives of the University of Paris, the College of France, and
other French universities to London and Oxford and Cambridge,
and the cordial reception they received, as well as the festival
at Hastings in honor of the entente^ in wnich many Frenchmen
from Rouen and other places in Normandy took part, are in-
dications tending to show that the feeling of mutual regard
and trust is spreading wide and deep.
The ministry of Signor Giolitti
Italy. is still in office, and has laid be-
fore the Parliament a programme
differing but little from that of its predecessor. The main
preoccupations of Italian politicians are, so far as they are
disinterested, the discovery of some way in which to improve
the wretched condition of the peasantry in the southern prov-
inces and Sicilyi and the workers in the mines in Sardinia,
and for a better administration of the railroads. A wonderful
improvement has, within the last decade, taken place in the
finances of the State, an improvement so great that the gov-
ernment has been able to convert the consolidated debt, and
so to reduce the interest that instead of paying 5 per cent
gross and 4 per cent net, as at present, after 191 2 it will only
pay 3>^ percent. The question of disarmament raised by Sir
Edward Grey met with the courteous consideration of the
Minister for Foreign Affairs and his profound sympathy. But
that was all, for he declared that it would be the height of
folly, and a crime against the country, for Italy alone to take
the smallest step in the diminution of its forces while the
whole of Europe remained one vast army.
The visits which are so much the order of the day have
extended from England to Italy. The Lord Mayor and Sheriffs
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7 1 CURREN T EVENTS [Aug.
of London, State Coaches and all, went to the Exhibition at
Milan. Banquets were tendered and expression was given of
the mutual esteem and regard entertained by the two nations
for each other.
A new ministry has just been
Spain, formed in Spain. Before the coro-
nation of the King a ministerial
crisis was imminent, but was averted by his personal interven-
tion. Efforts were made subsequently to avoid a change, and
it was hoped with success. This hope, however, was disap-
pointed. Sefior Moret insisted on a dissolution of the Cortes.
To this the King would not consent, as neither the Conser-
vative Opposition, nor the Liberals who are opposed to the
government, considered the proposal justified. Marshal Lopez
Dominguez has formed a new Cabinet, Liberal in its character,
and has undertaken to carry on affairs without a dissolution.
Although Liberal the government will depend for its existence
upon the support of the Conservatives. The dissolution which
Senor Moret wished for was, it is said, in order to carry out a
very radical programme, to which the King would not give his
consent.
The King and Queen of Norway
General. have been crowned at Trondhjem,
with every circumstance of pomp
and every token of the good will and affection of their people.
Representatives from all the States of Europe were present, ex-
cept Sweden. King Oscar could not bring himself, and no
wonder, to manifest such an approval of the placing of the
same crown with which he had himself been crowned upon
the head of another. The question of the Congo Free State
is likely to become acute. It seems impossible to deny that
the gravest atrocities have been practised there; and the re-
forms which have been made are not at all adequate. But
what is more serious, is the denial on the part of the Sovereign
of the State of all right of interference on the part of the
Powers which, by their action, gave a possibility to its forma-
tion. The existence of a State under the uncontrolled personal
rule of a single individual, and one which he treats as his own
personal property, is a curious experiment in these days of de-
mocracy, and it cannot be said that the results have been of
such a character as to justify the attempt.
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The Tablet (ic June): High and fitting tribute is paid to the
work and worth of the Sisters of Notre Dame. The
occasion is the celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of
the Mount Pleasant Training College^ Liverpool. With
what success these Sisters have borne their part in the
noble work of educating the young cannot be over-
estimated. May these quiet, cheerful, untiring laborers
continue still to preserve in their pupils the true Catho-
lic character and to secure for them the incomparable
benefit of sound Catholic education.— ^-The Holy Father
has suppressed the Catholic Club of University Students
in Rome, owing to its dangerous tendencies.
(23 June) : Father Tyrrell's new book, Lex Credendi^ is
reviewed in this number. This work comes as a sequel
to the author's preceding treatise. Lex Oratidi. The
author, while pursuing much the same scheme as in the
earlier volume, has defended himself against misunder-
standings, which have arisen in spite of fairly explicit
precautions. ''Father Tyrrell shows himself no mean
interpreter of the sayings and doings of Christ. Whether
he takes the standpoint of the Apostles, or whether he
interprets according to the ideas of the twentieth cen-
tury, we feel his one aim is to make us enter of our
own accord into the life of Christ, and to learn by our
own experience the truth of these interpretations." Lex
Credendi will be welcomed by many who are already
indebted to Father Tyrrell for much help in their spiri-
tual life. It will be greeted by others as explanatory
of points that were, doubtlessly necessarily, left obscure
in his former work. Those only will be disappointed
who are on the lookout for new and strange doctrines.
'' It is at least within the power of us all to sympathize
with and, as far as possible, encourage the attempts of
those few Catholic writers who are called upon to give
their talents to the work of God in the Church of
Christ. The Roman Correspondent discountenances
the report that Cardinal Merry del Val had lost the
confidence of the Pope, and that a new Secretary of
State was soon to be appointed.
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712 Foreign Periodicals [Aug.,
The National Review (July): Episodes of the Month contains
an emphatic protest against British disarmament. On
the relations between England and the United States it
says: "It is particularly dangerous to blink the fact,
although Americans resent any reference to it, that there
has been a great revival of Germanism in the United
States, as in every other part of the world, of late
years." " British Imperial Defence from a Foreign
Standpoint," by Camille Favre, is a plea for a larger
army. Susan Townley gives a history of attempts to
build a Panama Canal, and something of the present
conditions there. "Liberals or Jacobins," by Dr. Bar-
ry, is a plea for individual liberty against government
paternalism. A. P. Sinnett writes on the "The Pro-
gress of Occult Research."— —A. J. Dunn gives a time-
ly paper on the Arabian Empire. The Rev. James
Hannay defends the Gaelic League against a recent
article by '* Vigil " in this magazine. " A Member of
Winchester College" describes "The Labor Problem in
South Africa," and Arthur C. Benson makes a plea for
" undenominational " Christian teaching in the public
schools.
Lc Correspondant (lo June): Edouard Rod writes on the
*' Death of Ibsen," in which he relates the principal
events of that great writer's life, and also reviews some
of the most notable of his works. He declares that,
with the exception of Tolstoi, no other man has ex-
ercised so great an influence on the world, on the fun-
damental ideas held by the masses, on prose, and poe-
try as Ibsen. Marcel Dieulafay writes on the oriental
origin of the Spanish drama. The statues erected
lately in the Luxemburg garden to the memory of " Fr^d-
^ric Le Play causes Henry Joly to write quite a lengthy
criticism and review of the life and doctrine of that
famous social economist.
(25 June) : A short review of Thureau Dangin's latest
work entitled Newman and Manning is given. The re-
viewer is high in bis praises of the book, and amongst
other things says that although the English possess
many histories of the Oxford movement and of that
period, yet they have no book to equal M. Dangin's.
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I906.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 713
In a sociological essay Paul Dubois describes the condi-
tions existing in the western part of Ireland.
£tudes (5 June): // Santo and its author are under discussion
again. This time the critic is Joseph Ferchat. It was
Fogazzaro's intention merely to elevate souls, to make
them more Christian, and for this purpose to recon-
cile modern thought with Catholic doctrine. The inten-
tion was good, but Ferchat thinks the method was not
so good. He criticises especially the thesis of theologi-
cal evolution set forth in // Santo^ and condemns it as
being too radical. A plea is made for Church gov-
ernment in France similar to that in Germany and in
the United States.
(20 June) : Jules Doize describes the manner of elec-
tion of French bishops previous to the Concordats.-^—
Joseph Ferchat concludes his criticism of // Santo.
While he does not wish to insinuate that Fogazzaro is
a weak Catholic, he begs to be allowed to draw a com-
parison between the ideas found in // Santo and those
of Auguste Sabatier. While there is a great distance
between the intentions of the French freethinker and
those of the Itjalian novelist, the distance between
their doctrines is not so striking. Alfred Durand
contributes a study on the attitude of the Evangelists
towards Christ's parables. From the four gospels we
can learn, he says, that Christ used parables in order
to satisfy the demands of justice, as the most pru-
dent method and most in accord with his sense of
mercy .-^ Fr^d^ric Le Play, his life as a sociologist,
his services to mankind and to faith and religion, form
the subject of an article by H. Pr^lot.
Revue du Clerge Frangais (15 June): P. Caulle, Vicar-General
of Rouen, writes on the imperative need of preaching
as an aid to faith, and takes occasion of the new epoch
in France to say that though vocations may be momen-
tarily lessened in number, the gain in freedom and in
courage will more than compensate. P. Lecigne gives
a sketch of the military career of Captain Wyart, who
later became Superior- General of the Trappists, and who
died very recently. P. Pradel describes an episcopal
election in the sixth century ; and shows how in the
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714 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Aug.,
course of time, the share of the Holy See in episcopal
appointments has steadily increased ; and the future will
not be unlike the past P. Turmel answers a questioner
who asks if all the documents contained in Dcnzinger's
Enchiridion are recognized as infallible. Before decid-
ing this question, he says, we must decide the conditions
necessary for an infallible pontifical pronouncement, and
as to these conditions theologians hold two theories,
some demanding that the pontiff express his intention of
proclaiming a certain doctrine to be an integral part of
revealed truth, and others not demanding this condition.
In the former theory, the nineteenth century would offer
but one instance of such a definition ; and the eighteenth
century scarcely two instances. With regard to the
older documents, it is the theologians most devoted to
the Holy See who are most anxious to minimize the
number of infallible pontifical pronouncements. The
Letter of Pope Nicholas to the Bulgarians, and the Decree
of Eugenius IV. to the Armenians, are documents much
discussed, and it is not altogether easy to reconcile the
first with the present doctrine on Baptinn, or the second
with what history tells us concerning the Sacrament of
Order.
La Civilta Cattolica (i6 June): In an article entitled " L'Obbe-
dienza al Papa e alia Chiesa nella dottrina di S.Tommaso ''
the author takes exception to the interpretations of St.
Thomas on Obedience by one who writes in the Cultura
Sociale under the title " Concetto dell' Obbedienza in
San Tommaso d'Aquino." Another writer is alarmed
at the amazing extent to which foreign words are creep-
ing into the Italian language. H. Grisar, S.J., in the
study of an ancient cross, which served as a reliquary,
denies the authenticity of the so-called relics of the cir-
cumcision. He remarks that his argument will not please
some, but that we should remember that our only norm
in regard to past errors is to speak the clear and open
truth.
La Rassengna Nazionale (June) : Pietro Stoppani recounts an
excursion to Vesuvius during the late eruption.
Guiseppe Morando answers critics of his work on Ros-
mini, maintaining, in the course of his article, that there
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I906.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 715
is a true historical sense to the forty condemned proposi-
tions, and another sense in which they were condemned
by the Church. ^The editor reproduces an article en-
titled " Un Atto di Liberta," by Edouard Rod, which ex-
presses an admiration for those heroes of liberty who
have opposed oppression, whether it be that of Calvin
or of Rome. The editor remarks that he must not be
looked upon as countenancing the censures passed upon
the Church. Whenever the Rassegna Nazionale pub-
lishes such an article it does so from a serene principle
of objectivity, which looks to the valuable ideas that are
present. The article is mainly concerned with a eulogy
of Senator Fogazzaro for his submission to the condem-
nation, by the Congregation of the Index, of his book
// Santo.
La Quinzaine (16 June): Lucie F. F. Goyau sketches the Life
of St. Catherine of Sienna, dwelling especially on its
joyful aspect. With the purpose of giving us a
history of L^Avenir^ Charles Boutard describes the
events that resulted in the foundation of that paper.
The present condition of affairs affords us an oppor-
tunity to appreciate the political programme and the
labors of LAvenir's founder, Lamennais. Perhaps if he
had acted more calmly, and with more moderation, his
views would have received general acceptance in his
own lifetime, and his paper would have started under
more favorable circumstances. Moreover, he himself
failed to avoid the dangers of which he warned others,
and his too wide proclamation of his predilection for
the Republic was a sad welcome for *' liberal Catholi-
cism." Discouraged by the ill success of his literary
efforts, disappointed in life, a misanthropist, a pessimist,
proud and dignified, A. de Vigny was nevertheless a
strong man and a soldier of honor. The breadth and
strength of his intellect enabled him to love the men
whom by profession he detested, and to embrace all
men with a universal and*tender affection. Such is the
picture offered us by Henry Gaillard de Champris of
the writer of Stella^ The Garden of Olives^ and The Wrath
of Samson.
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THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION.
READING CIRCLE DAY, August 24, at Cliff Haven, N. Y., will be mem-
orable for the patrons of the Champlain Summer-School on account of
the special programme to honor the memory of .the late Warren E. Mosher,
A.M. His work as Secretary of the Summer-School, since the year 1892,
had for its chief motive the advancement of Reading Circles. It was to pro-
vide an opportunity to bring together the representatives of these circles
scattered far and wide that the Summer-School was first proposed, with the
late Brother Azarias in charge of the Committee on Studies and Speakers. It
is hoped that, in addition to the spoken tributes regarding Mr. Mosher's life
and work, there will be personal reminiscences sent in writing, especially by
those who have information of this kind, and may be unable to attend the ex-
ercises at the Summer- School on the day appointed. Letters relating to the
Mosher Memorial should be sent to the Administration Office, ClifiE Haven,
N. Y., not later than August 15.
The Catholic Northwest^ ably edited and published monthly by M. Johns-
ton, at Seattle, Wash., lately contained an account of the Columbian Read-
ing Union, and the following appreciative notice :
The death of Warren E. Mosher, at New Rochelle, N. Y., removes from
the activities of educational religious journalism one of its most zealous and
active spirits. There are few names that have placed to their credit so long
a record of faithful and unselfish effort in a great cause. He was the cham-
pion of the Catholic Reading Circle movement almost twenty years ago, that
has done so much to stimulate an interest in good literature and higher edu-
cation among Catholics. This movement has had its development in the
Champlain Summer-School at Cliff Haven, N. Y., now a permanent and
prosperous institution, the Columbian Summer-School in the West, which is
temporarily suspended since the death of Rev. Father Danehy, of Minne-
apolis, its President, the Maryland Summer-School, and the New Orleans
Winter-School. The uplifting influences that have gone forth from these
several centres of Christian Catholic culture, and have been diffused abroad
over the land, can scarcely be overestimated. He established and ably edited
the Reading Circle Review in connection with the reading circle work, and
this, after his removal from his Ohio home to New York City, was changed to
the Champlain Educator y the organ of the Summer-School. He held the
office of Secretary of the Summer-School since its organization, and performed
its onerous duties without compensation. He was known as the '' Father of
the Summer-School,'' and to promote its interests was to him a labor of love.
His self-sacrificing labors brought him little pecuniary reward, for, like
Agassiz, '< he had no time to make money." His aims were loftier and purer
and they had no alloy of sordidness. He has been called away in the prime
of his manhood and usefulness, but his work survives, and the impetus he
gave to Catholic thought and study will continue to grow in ever-widening
circles as time goes on. May the turf lie gently on his brave and loyal heart
and his soul enjoy eternal rest.
* * •
The record of the Reading Circle Movement would be enriched if more
people would commit to writing their early impressions. Under the title of
''An Ideal Realized," Katharine A. Grady has contributed to the Pilot a
most interesting sketch which is here given :
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i9o6.] The Columbian Reading Union '717
One of the dearest and most cherished desires of my life, springing into
being when I was yet a schoolgirl, and waxing in strength as I grew to
womanhood, was an ambition to join the John Boyle O'Reilly Reading Circle.
There was a halo of glory attached to it, which surrounded no other organi-
zation of which I had either read or heard, and I had secretly resolved, when
I arrived at the years ot discretion I would enroll myself among the elect.
To me it was a sort of literary " Parnassus," the heights of which once
attained, I might look with kindly contempt on my less fortunate sisters.
The knowledge of its existence had come to me through the pages of
The Catholic World. This magazine used to lie on the table in our con-
vent school-room, tpgether with other magazines and books. One day,
glancing through it, I read an account of the sessions and lecture courses
held at the Catholic Summer-School at Cliff Haven, in New York. Here the
various Circles from the different States met with one interest, one bond of
sympathy.
Naturally, I was attracted to the John Boyle O'Reilly Circle, coming
from Boston, my native city, and because of that early admiration in which I
had held it. It was an attraction as unexplainable as that of the sunflower
for the sun. With every succeeding number of the Magazine, I watched the
progress and advancement of the Circle, until it grew to be a part of my life,
a thing of my affections.
I feel that here I ought to place a long dash, for about this time there had
come into my life those absorbing interests and distractions which, to a school-
girl, seem to be the most important events that life could ever hope to offer.
My graduation from school now claimed all my attention, and those sub-
sequent gaieties which follow such an auspicious event. To a convent girl
there is no sense of freedom equal to that of graduation, no matter hew hal-
lowed the associations, how strong the friendships that bind us to our school-
days. I was truly of the world, worldly. O what a dear, lovely world it was !
How I loved its light, its color, its enchantments ! Life seemed to hold out
so many allurements that I was dazzled by their glitter. I felt as a released
butterfly must at the first glimpse of summer.
But gradually the flush faded away, and I realized that I was only an
ordinary human being after all, with my place to make in this world.
The studies of which I had been fondest during my student days again
besought me tp return ; the aspiration which I had cherished in those golden
days shone forth as radiant as ever.
There are sometimes emotions and affections, which we think tinr.e has
allowed to pass entitely from our minds, when lo, a word, a memory, shew
us they are still a part of our life, dormant yet vital.
It was thus with me. Whether it was the irrepressible yearnings for
higher knowledge, or the early passions of youth asserting themselves, I
know not, all I do know is that join the Reading Circle I must. It was ore
of those psychological moments which occur quite frequently in our lives.
I wrote to the Secretary of the Circle, in regard to the requirements for
admission, and in a short time received an answer explaining the same, and
inviting me to attend the meeting the following week. Needless to say, I
was delighted and counted the nights until the eventful one should arrive.
Upon the evening assigned I hastily journeyed to my destination. As I
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7i8* THE Columbian Reading Union [Aug.,
ascended the steps, before entering the buildiftg, I paused a moment, as one
would before entering the portals of a renowned cathedral. Though the
middle of winter, the mildness and softness of the night reminded one of
spring. The sky was bright with stars, and as I gazed upon their shining
brilliancy, I almost fancied they beamed encouragingly on me, and their
twinkle seemed to say :• ** Good Luck."
The Secretary to whom I was to introduce myself, I soon found, and in
her gracious manner she welcomed me, and introduced me to the President
of the Circle. This gifted woman, who has presided over the John Boyle
O'Reilly Reading Circle since its early inception, is a person of wonderful
intellect and fascinating personality. She is the inspiration and idol of the
members, and though the discussion of books, and authors, and the oppor-
tunity for social intercourse is a strong attraction, yet I doubt not that
strongest of all is the magnetism of Miss Katherine £. Conway, who draws
to her shrine so many devoted worshippers, there to gather renewed courage,
for the battle of life, from her hopeful philosophy.
While the meeting progressed, and during the discussion of one of the
** latest books," I had time to regain my composure, which I fear had rather
deserted me during my ** debut" into the Circle.
It was with a feeling of inward enjoyment and satisfaction, that I gazed
around on the faces of those whom I hoped would soon be my friends. I
breathed an atmosphere of culture, I had realized my ideal !
And across the low murmur of voices, the words of an old poem came to
my mind :
<' At last the dream of youth.
Stands fair and bright before me ;
The sunshine of the home of truth.
Falls tremulously o*er me ! "
A bill for the erection in Washington, D. C, of a statue in memory of
Commodore John Barry, the father and founder of the American Navy, has
been passed by both houses of Congress and has been signed by President
Roosevelt. No other patriot of the Revolutionary period deserves this high
honor more than Barry. His devotion to the cause of the colonies, and his
signal services in war and in peace, make him conspicuous even among the
band of heroes who achieved the independence of this country. To the
Emmet Club, the National Barry Statue Association, the Hibernians, and
the Friendly Sons of St. Patrick belongs the credit for the enactment of
the law for the erection of this monument.
Representatives of the National Commodore John Barry Statue Assccia-
tion waited on the Site Commission at the War Department to suggest the
location for a site for the Barry Statue.
The Commission is composed of Secretary Taft, Secretary Bonaparte,
Senator Wetmore, and Representative McCleary. The sites suggested were
the southwest corner of Franklin Square, or the junction of Massachusetts
and New Jersey Avenues. The Commission agreed to keep these sites open
till a further meeting, to be held in the fall.
The Committee consisted of Michael E. Driscoll, M.C., William F.
Downey, Nicholas H. Shea, Clarence Mangan, Frank P. Burke, Terence V.
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.WLD.
1906.] BOOKS RECEIVED.
Powderly, D. F. Finucane, John D. Gallagher, i
O'Donoghue, representing the Barry Association,
Haltigan, and William Frizell, representing the Ancie.
M. T. 0*Donoghue suggested four sculptors : St. G*
John Boyle, and James Kelly. Mr. Haltig&n presented
ray, of Philadelphia.
The editor of the Irish American has discovered one
in this land to-day, and he is Martin I. J. Griffin, of Philadel
showed the nonsense the late A. C. Buell was writing about P.
calling it ** history," he could not get press or public to listen tt
went on telling the truth just the same. Now Mrs. dc Koven hai.
whole country pay attention while she proves that Buell*s book " h
with historical forgeries and inaccuracies." Our old friend is splendi 408,
dicated. He says himself of the episode :
I honor Jones' name and know something of his merits which 1
thers of the country did not recognize. But I know his name has be
honored by his chief biographers. Jones is honored for deeds he n'
and others are robbed of the honors justly belonging to them, not^IES.
tain John Barry, of our own city. Time brings justice. It is s>
truth about Jones and manifesting the worth of John Barry. P
JX be found—
.nt of view— to
mm aich has been al-
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THE
CATHOLIC WORLD.
Vol. LXXXIII. SEPTEMBER, 1906. No. 498.
NON-CATHOLIC WORK IN FRANCISCAN STUDIES.
BY R. E.
fO more interesting subject could well be found—
at least from a Franciscan point of view— to
write upon than the above, which has been al-
lotted to the present writer, for non-Catholic in-
terest as regards Catholic matters, especially
Franciscan, has of late years become so vivid, so all-pervading,
that it is impossible, even if one wished to do so, to ignore it
or to avoid coming into almost daily, personal contact with it.
If ever there was a fresh use to which the old well-worn
name of ''Renaissance'^ might be applied — in all its significa-
tions — it is surely to this extraordinary, sudden, almost fanati-
cal enthusiasm, which has taken possession of a certain class
of non-Catholics regarding all things Franciscan — this fever
which, seizing hold of men and women, constrains them all,
canons of St. Paul, country clergymen, ladies of literary in-
stincts, all alike, to leave their homes and rush to the nearest
friendly Cook's office, there to invest in tickets for Assisi.
This impulse — the widespreading desire which sends hun-
dreds annually to visit the shrine of St. Francis, which gives
birth to so much Protestant literature concerning both it and
him — is not, cannot be, treated lightly by Catholics, or in any
Copyright. Z906. Thb Missionary Socibtt op St. Paul tub Apostlb
IN thb Statb op Nbw York.
VOL. LXXXIII. ^46
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722 NON- Catholic Work [Sept.,
way passed over by them ; rather should it be an object of
careful study on their part, whether it is, or may not be ren-
dered, productive of lasting good, material and spiritual, to those
who are affected by it
That non-Catholic views of any Catholic saint must neces-
sarily be limited goes without saying. Only what the varying
degrees of power of their individual, mental eyesight permit
them to behold, can be visible to them — they cannot call in to
the aid of their hagiographical studies, either the microscope
or the magnifying lens of the Church.
Much as we take for granted that the intelligent non-expert
would find less to see than the trained expert in some wonder-
ful, complicated piece of machinery, so, also, would we take
these non- Catholic limitations for granted. But as it is true
that the expert will see and know more of the piece of machin-
ery before him, so is it possibly true that the intelligent non-
expert observer may, by his very freshness of sight brought
to bear on it, discover or be struck by what has been, not over^
looked^ but disregarded by the expert, who from long, intimate,
daily study has grown over-familiar with his subject. So with
the non-Catholic limitations to which we have referred. They
may occasionally be productive of a strong focussing power— of
an attention to one or two rather passed-over details — and a
consequent aid to the bringing forth of these details into stionger
relief, to the advantage of both expert and lion-expert. Catho-
lic and non-Catholic alike. Without going into the more abstruse,
metaphysical aspects of the question, it is reasonable to sup-
pose that what occurs in the material world is borne out every
now and then in the spiritual. A Catholic will, for instance,
have been brought up from infancy with a knowledge of the
lives of and the principal acts of the Church's greatest saints;
he may have had a life-long "devotion" for some particular
one of them ; they may become, insensibly, absolutely necessary
factors in his existence; and with daily wear and use, so to
speak, he has come to regard them much as one does the ma-
terial things in use in daily life. They are there, and he almost
unconsciously relies upon and enjoys the use of them. With
a non- Catholic all is different. His Protestant training has
necessarily kept from him the knowledge even of the existence
of many (to Catholics) accepted facts. He sees with his own
eyes for the first time — and late in life, perhaps — much which
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must appear startlingly new and wonderful to him, and his
suddenly attracted gaze focusses itself quickly on some detail
which holds him spellbound by its power; which his surprised
senses magnify perhaps out of all due proportion, but which
induces him irresistibly to proclaim its " discovery " to his
friends and brother* students.
So with regard to the literature of a Protestant character
which, of late, has seemed to be pouring forth in '* rivers of
print." Though sometimes undue importance is attached to
details, and what are, and have been for years past, well-known
facts to Catholics are magnified into " important discoveries ''
by this or that Protestant writer, freshly introduced to them —
much still is to be said in its praise. Deductirg from it that
occasional element of lofty Protestant superiority to the infer-
ior subject in hand, an enormous amount of scholarly work has
been turned out by Protestants within the last twenty years,
which has earned for them the admiration and even gratitude
of Catholic Franciscan students. Though partiality to private-
ly preconceived- notions will sometimes intrude itself — as, in«
deed, where will it not? — yet it cannot be said to predomi-
nate, and the general tone of Protestant writers on that most
Catholic of subjects, St. Francis of Assisi, is one of warm
admiration, attaining in many cases even to a personal love of
his marvelous personality. Throughout the pages of many a
Protestant writer may be discerned a veritable craving to make
St. Francis his own — to join hands, as it were, with him across
the centuries — to claim him as co-religionist even ! And this
real, genuine feeling for the saint, which pervades their writ-
ings, explains the raison-d'etre of so many otherwise inexplic-
able and unsuccessful Protestant literary attempts to prove St
Francis Protestant.
In these same unsuccessful attempts, however — in these
failures of literary Protestants — lies what is the most valuable
non- Catholic contribution to the work of the Church; for in
them is to be found that germ of Catholic thought which is
later on to bring forth fruit, to be productive of many a blossom
which will be culled by the loving hands of the Church. Among
a certain class of non-Catholic readers — to employ a paradoxi-
cal means of expression — only by Protestants may Catholic truths
be enunciated and obtain a hearing / The non-Catholic world
is, alas! as large if not larger than the Catholic — and Catholic
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724 NON' Catholic Work [Sept.,
writers may write and write and spend their lives in demon-
strating the truth of certain religious facts, and the non- Catho-
lic world will either never even hear of their efforts, or hear-
ing heed them not. But let a Protestant take up his pen, and
let him incidentally announce to his brethren the most obvious
of Catholic truths, and he will be listened to at once, if not
with the acquiescence of his audience, at least with the aroused
interest of their opposition. In other words, St. Thomas of
Celano and St. Bonaventure, as the original authorities on the
life of St. Francis, may be — and by many are — ignored, even
unheard of; but Paul Sabatier, Canon Rawnsley, and Stephen
Adderly will be read and re-read, and believed in, when they
state positively that once upon a time there lived a man, who
was a saint, and whose name was Francis.
This is a great advantage gained, from the Catholic stand-
point. The mere fact that the non- Catholic spiritual outlook
should be enlarged — that its world should be brought into con-
tact with spiritual facts hitherto outside its own existence,
though it be through the medium only of Protestant writers on
Catholic matters — is surely a leading up to a better, a clearer
interchange of religious sentiments, the symptoms of " a second
spring." Set a stone in motion rolling down a steep mountain-
side, and one cannot divine what in the end it may carry
along and away with it. So, once unlock the sluices of Fran-
ciscan thought with that master key, that name to conjure with
— Francis of Assisi — and God alone knows how many parched
and thirsty souls may eventually find themselves assuaged by
its refreshing streams, by its reviving waters. The Protestant
reader of a Protestant work on St. Francis must be struck —
and one knows from practical experience that this is so— by
the plain facts dealing with the life of the saint, as existing
quite apart from any possible biased view taken of them on
the writer's part — a bias which, after all, but resembles ivy
which clings to and partially disguises the shape and form of
the tree, but which cannot hide from sight the obvious fact
that the tree round which it clings is there^ and that but a few
Strokes from a skillful woodman's axe are necessary to remove
the disfiguring overgrowth.
A great danger does, however, exist in some of the modern
non-Catholic Franciscan literature — but it is no longer a lurk-
ing, hidden danger. It has been so often aired and dwelt upon
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and pointed out, that the veriest novice in Franciscan studies
should now be completely on his guard against it. Moreover,
it is a danger created rather by the reader himself than the
writer. This is the fatal tendency of so many non- Catholics,
superficially informed on Franciscan subjects, to accept as au-
thentic and verified statements much which — to refer to a very
great non-Catholic writer, M. Paul Sabatier, in his Introduction
to his own Life of St. Francis — is, after all, only Transformed
History, If, to take one instance, the thousands and thousands
of readers of M. Sabatier's Vie de St, Franfois would but
bear in mind, whilst reading it, M. Sabatier's own introductory
remarks, they would probably arrive at a much juster and
calmer appreciation of him as a writer. " Four ^crire Tbis-
toire, il faut la penser, et la penser c'est la transformer," are
his own words. And there is no reason why M. Paul Sabatier
should not transform the history of the saint's life if he
chooses to do so. The mistake lies with his non- Catholic
readers who, hearing him constantly spoken of as **sl great au-
thority on Franciscan literature," and justly supposing him to
be a very fine writer, jump to the hasty and unfounded con-
clusion that all that he says must be absolutely correct and
authentic, because /le has said it. Whereas, M. Sabatier would
probably be the first to acknowledge to them — what, indeed,
cannot be denied — that in the writing of his Vie de St. Fran-
fois he made several very important errors : one of which he
has had corrected, and one which the student world, interest-
ing itself in such matters, still hopes he may correct in later
editions of his work.
Yet who would deny that M. Sabatier and many othet Prot-
astant writers have greatly helped on, or rather have started,
by their Histoire Transformie^ that general impetus for Fran-
ciscan studies now in vogue; or that their books have not, at
least, half-opened a door to untold treasure to many a non-
Catholic who never before had so much as heard of Assisi and
her saint?
Although, as we have said, the danger above referred to
does exist, of superficial readers accepting too readily as a
truth what is rather an individual view of the authors, set be-
fore them with force and skill, yet it is possible that to Catho-
lic Franciscan Experts — to coin a title — that danger presents
itself as a greater one than in reality it is. It should be re-
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726 Non-Catholic Work [Sept.,
memberedy that most of the non- Catholics who form the bulk
of the reading public, as far as the Protestant output of Fran-
ciscan literature goes, are neither profound scholars nor well
versed in Franciscan matters. How could they be? Assisi is
not within a stone's throw of either London or New York ;
nor are the valuable codexes and MSS., scattered about mainly
in Italy in the libraries and monasteries, easily accessible ex-
cept by a few with leisure and means at their disposal. The
ordinary reader of a life of St. Francis, therefore, is not likely,
in the first place, to dwell much upon the scholastic padding
with which that life is encased. It will be the main facts of
that life itself which will arrest his attention and start him
forth on fresh paths of thought. He will not reflect much,
even should he recognize their existence, upon the scholastic
errors which often exist in such works. Nor, in the second
place, would he be capable of, or much interested in, making
profound and erroneous deductions from wrong data given —
on assertions made regarding, let us say, the author or authors
of the Speculum Perfect,!
With experts in Franciscan lore, as with experts in every
other branch of learning, the very slightest error in the work-
ing is of vast importance. And it is, of course, of very great
importance that exaggerations of facts, or unproved assertions,
should be shown up publicly as such ; and Catholic expert
scholars can and do render very great public service by their
prompt dealing with literary Protestant offenders; but they
may remember, and also perhaps take some comfort from the
thought, that for any one reader who will derive harm from
Protestant prefaces to English editions of, for example, the
Sacrum Commercium^ hundreds will more likely derive benefit
of a lasting character from the good translation of the work
itself.
In so far, then, as they bring before an otherwise unheed-
ing, even ignorant, reading public good translations — not only
good, but very scholarly ones^-of original Franciscan works, the
non-Catholic interest so widely displayed in the Franciscan
cause must tend to the ultimate benefit and advantage of the
Church. '* He that is not against us is for uf," may be said
of the many non- Catholic writers who, all unconsciously, are
giving a push to, and setting in motion, the dormant Catholic
tendencies of many and many a one among their readers.
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I906.] IN FRANCISCAN STUDIES 72J
From the first perusal of the life of a saint to the study of
the incentive and motive power thereof, is but a short step:
take but another step, and close by stands the Church, and
her doors are flung wide and invitingly open ! Be sure St.
Francis will claim his dues, will take his toll of human souls
now as in those far-off days when he walked this earth,
winning them back by thousands to the love of God, per*
suading, exhorting, entreating them, always per Vamore di Dio,
Indeed it is a striking fact that almost in proportion to
the output of Protestant books on St. Francis, the num-
ber of his followers and admirers increases. A wider-spread
knowledge of him and his faith, whether unfavorably or favor-
ably written and spoken of, appears to create an increasing
desire to know still more, and every fresh work on the old
subject finds ready publishers and still more ready purchasers.
Catholics and non- Catholics cannot apparently exhaust the
topic, nor yet their readers. It is as though the Protestant
citadel, originally started for the purpose of reaching to the
heavens and overlooking from its superior height the fortress
of the Catholic Church, had indeed been converted into a new
tower of Babel.
Of the various degrees of potentiality for good, or the
lasting worth and merit of such non- Catholic works as we have
been referring to, it is most difficult — almost impossible — to
judge as yet. The future, as with all literary work, will reveal
to our successors which among the many religious publications
has produced the greatest, the most lasting, spiritual effects on
minds ripe to receive such impressions.
The mere act of putting into print one's thoughts for others
to share brings with it, nowadays, such a tremendous responsi-
bility—opens up so many chance fields for the direction to
good or evil of so many minds — that no one would lightly un-
dertake to bear the burden of it. One cannot but hope that
the treatment by non-Catholic writers of Catholic subjects, and
the non-Catholic interest displayed, however faintly and faultily,
in Catholic affairs, are . the outcome of an earnest desire to do
good and not harm ; acted on with a full sense of how great
his responsibility is who voluntarily takes upon himself the
task of directing or bending the spiritual life of his fellows;
and that it is not from any but good motives that non-Catho-
lics expend so much time and thought, now in the year 1906,
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upon the publishing of every possible detail concerning the
life of a Catholic saint of the Middle Ages.
That non-Catholics should not be overcome at once, by the
incongruity of their own position as self-appointed searchers
out, and almost, one may say. Advertisers of Catholic Truth,
in connection with these Franciscan researches which they so
eagerly pursue, is to Catholics only one more proof of the
hundred times proved miraculous powers bestowed by God on
his much- loved servant. That English-speaking Protestant di-
vines should be the instruments chosen for the purpose of reveal-
ing to many the secret motive power of the Catholic Church
— her everlasting force existing in the perpetual efficacy of her
saints — forming that '' Holy Temple in the Lord " described by
St. Paul so long, long ago; that Protestant writings should be
transformed into well-nigh Catholic manuals ; that well-directed
attacks against the Church, purporting to be made under the
Franciscan banner, should be converted into the defeat and re-
tirement of the attackers; all this is one miracle the more
worked by God through St. Francis, and but a divine '' Con-
founding of the wise."
No honest non- Catholic reader can accept as facts the many
insinuations which certain Protestant authors have continuously
made against [the Catholicism of St. Francis. He has but to
ask himself a simple question : If St. Francis (he will say) was,
as some modern writers assert, not a Catholic at heart, why
did he not say so, and leave the Catholic Church? St. Fran-
cis was certainly not renowned for any undue reticence in the
matter of expressing his views on any subject! And the sim-
ple answer to the simple question is quickly given. St. Fran-
cis did not wish to leave the Church; he did not say that
he wished to leave the Church, and he therefore remained
in it^; and of it, and of it alone, can he ever be counted a
member.
This is the question- and- answer test which one might ap-
ply nowadays, if desirous of ascertaining the religious views of
any one ; and presumably no Wesleyan, or Methodist, or Pres-
byterian would resent being taken logically for such by his
friends and neighbors, if, with every possible opportunity at his
command for changing the tenets of his faith, he continued to
practise externally the customary acts which are regarded as
the usual accompaniments of the faith to which he was accredited.
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That there should be any lasting credence given to the theory
concerning St. Francis and his supposed *' heretical " tendencies,
seems almost astounding, when ordinary common sense and
judgment are applied by way of test; and in the amount of
Catholic scholarly knowledge brought to bear against this non-
Catholic capacity for erroneous beliefs, lies our best means of
resistance to the harm scholarly non- Catholic writings may
produce. Expert knowledge we must have at our commando-
experts, ready armed at every point, to combat at any mo-
ment when called upon the skillfully advanced erroneous the-
ories which are perpetually being printed on all Franciscan
subjects by Protestants, who also in their way are regarded as
experts, and whose names consequently carry great weight
with those not well-grounded in Franciscan literature. For
this reason, at the risk of repeating statements already known
to a portion of their readers, some of our best Franciscan
professors, as we may well call them, cease not to pen arti-
cle after article concerning the life and acts of • their patron,
reiterating facts drawn and substantiated from the oldest
and truest sources, verifying dates, correcting doubtful non-
Catholic statements, bringing careless writers to book, always,
in fact, doing '^ sentry-go" on behalf of the Catholic world.
The admirable articles published so recently in the June num-
ber of this very magazine are instances of this alertness — this
*' standing to attention" on the part of the soldiers of St.
Francis. We are most fortunate in having so great an army
of Catholic scholars of all nationalities, French, English, Amer-
ican, Italian, German, always on the watch. Nothing appears
to escape their vigilance — nothing too small to be passed over.
Witness even now in a very leading English paper, the Satur^
day Review i* how a certain author. Dr. Rosedale, a clergyman
of the Church of England, is being put through his paces as
regards a recent publication of his, to which a preface — if we
remember rightly — has been written by M. Paul Sabatier. So
far the challenge so vigorously thrown down by the Catholic
champions has not been responded to, but it will be difficult
if not impossible for the author to decline much longer to
break through the inexplicable silence, which up till now he
has maintained. Flight — with ignominy — or honest battle, are
his only alternatives in the eyes of all students of Franciscan
• Saturday Rtvirvo, May 12, 1906, stq.
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730 Non-Catholic Work [Sept.,
literature, and those of the Saturday Review readers who have
been interested in, and followed up, the subject under discussion.
As in every other branch of the Church's work, we find in
the literary department a great stimulus given by the interest
of non-Catholics, displayed as it is either in the form of
opposition to the Church's teachings, or in partial approval
thereof. The mere presence of the enemy, sometimes felt
rather than seen, quickens the soldierly instincts, and there is
no doubt that the remarkable energy displayed on the Catho-
lic side, in the way of recent Franciscan publications, is the
result of similar non- Catholic activity in that line. Indeed,
in view of the fact that every year new searchers — not al-
ways after truth, but certainly after M. Sabatier — travel to
Assisi, filling the little town with a babel of tongues, throng-
ing its streets, and taking its few hotels by storm, it would be
positive neglect on the part of Catholics not to give heed to
the edicts which that newly enthroned monarch of Assisi gives
forth to his devoted subjects; and to allow all his statements
always to pass unchallenged would be to call down upon us
the wrath of St. Francis himself. To be in readiness to meet
the enemy is to be half way on the road to beating him, and
many a struggle may yet have to be fought out on the old
battlefield of Assisi. Catholics, we think, should not neglect
to study, if only in a slight degree, the literature which Fran-
ciscan history offers them — much less need they indulge, as
sometimes they do, in half- deprecatory allusions to the "Fran-
ciscan mania" of such-and-such a writer. Catholic or non»
Catholic, as the case may be. The man with "a mania," the
man who is enthusiastic on the subject in question, is more
likely to become an expert than the Catholic who practises
the art of being enthusiastic about nothing — and it is of ex-
perts we stand in need; the Church cannot have too many of
them on her side.
This paper has been written in vain if it has not managed
to show that much real expert power is being employed, though
sometimes unintentionally perhaps, in establishing as facts what
really are additions of a modern character concerning the true
life of St. Francis — his life as we have it from the pen of
Thomas of Celano. And to this expert power on the enemy's
side, expert power must be opposed. We should like to hear of
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i9o6.] IN Franciscan Studies • 731
the establishment of a permanent '' Franciscan Council of War/'
consisting of expert scholars whose sole duty and uoik wculd
be to be always on the watch and in readiness to take up lite-
rary cudgels on behalf of St. Francis. Of the two kinds of
non-Catholic interest generally displayed in Catholic Francis-
can work, it is not always easy to distinguish at first sight be-
tween that which is genuine, simple-minded, brotherly s}m-
pathy, and that which is at bottom hostile but veiled under
the outward appearances of the above qualities. Here again
the expert's watchfulness is necessary, both to ascertain clearly
when the latter is in the ascendant, and at work against Cath-
olics, and also to warn at once and put on their guard those
Catholics who might otherwise be deceived by the disguised
enemy.
Many a Protestant writer, happily, belongs to the first class
of non- Catholics, and is as genuinely in sympathy with Catho-
lics as a Protestant can be. Unhappily, some of the best non«
Catholic Franciscan scholars may be assigned to the second
category, and to the real Franciscan expert reveal them*
selves as dangerous in the extreme, precisely because of this
capacity of being able skillfully to disguise what are really at-
tacks on the Church, under the appearance of being desirous
only that '' the real truth " about St. Francis should be known.
One small piece of advice we venture to offer to non-
Catholic readers of this article. Let them, before pinning their
Franciscan faith on only one or even two writers, consult the
valuable list of works of reference given at the end of a bock
just published — The Writings of St. Francis of Assisi^ by F. P.
Robinson* — and read more for themselves the pros and cons of
the Protestant theories now being advanced, and see more for
themselves and less through the spectacles of non- Catholic di-
vines, or ex- divines, than hitherto they have done. And in
the meantime every Catholic may individually work to bring
nearer to the non-Catholic mind the truth, the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth, concerning St. Francis of Assisi, in
the firm belief that a nearer acquaintance with that truth may
bring with it a greater clearness and steadiness of vision, and
« Tht Writing of St. Francis of Assisi, Newly translated into English, with an Intro-
duction and Notes. By Father Paschal Robinson, of the Order of Friars Minor. Philadel-
phia : The Dolphin Press.
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732 NON' Catholics and Franciscan Studies [Sept.
that a sounder knowledge of his life and works may lead their
hitherto wandering gaze to fix itself more constantly upon that
" Mirror of Perfection," that " Virtutis Speculum," who will re-
flect back to them — only God.
The tendency of this paper has been perhaps to lay before
readers the different aspects of non- Catholic work in the re-
gions of Franciscan thought, rather than the definite results of
that work — which, indeed, it is as yet impossible finally to
judge of.
Generally speaking, non-Catholic interest therein tends
probably to good rather than evil. The enterprise of non-
Catholics awakens that of Catholics; their researches incite
Catholics to similar feats, and to a careful verification of their
Opponent's statements; and finally, although so far they have
only succeeded, unfortunately, in doing so wrong side out^ they
have endeavored to hoist the banner of St. Francis, thereby
directing a hitherto indifferent world's attention to it — a fact
which must, eventually, conduce to victory for the Church and
the conversion of her enemies into friends.
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NARCISSUS.
BY JEANIE DRAKE.
' Author of !n Old St, Stephen*!, The Metropolitans, etc., etc.
Chapter X.
LITTLE rest and quiet, said the doctor, was all
that Marjorie needed. So she reclined on her.
lounge for a day or two, and was assiduously
waited upon by Will and Jack. Then she com-
menced to go about as usual, and take long ram-
bles here, there, and everywhere. Perhaps Mrs. Fleming had
a little more of her company than before, as she sat quietly
sewing or reading, but the girl's book seemed scarcely ever to
interest her, as she rarely turned a leaf; and Jack complained
more than once that she was not half as '' jolly " as she used
to be. If the natural beauty around could have given her joy,
she would have been gladdened by the sight of Martres and
its environs now; for June had come, and the flowers bloomed
in gayer colors, the air seemed clearer, the breezes softer, the
river more sparkling, and the far-off mountains and valleys
nearer and more distinct. But a glamor had departed for her
from sky and earth and water, their tints had faded, every-
thing was dull and colorless — and everything was a weariness
How she would have done without Will now it is impossible
to say, for she thought in after days with profound wonder
and gratitude of all that he was to her at this time. Never
visible when she wished to be alone, he was always on hand
if needed to amuse, to interest, to read, or talk, or to be si-
lent; and not the most sensitive could have guessed trom his
manner that he thought there was any special need for his
tenderness; but only that, the restraint of a visitor's presence
being removed, he could fall back more freely into his life-
long habit of coaxing and petting. And she was apt to abuse
this kindness, too; for, whereas formerly she had been teas-
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734 Narcissus Sept.,
ing yet always gentle, now, in variable mood, she would some-
times say hard and reckless things, almost as though she meant
to hurt, being hurt herself.
It was the afternoon of a particularly heavy day, for she
had been to 'Colette's cottage, where the bride and Etienne
had thanked her for various small kindnesses until it oppressed
her, and then she had stopped at Mere V^ronique's in return-
ing, and had been closely catechized about Philip Carbart, and
been compelled to answer loudly all manner of inquiries about
him. " Was he an American ? How old was he ? How did
he chance to be in Martres ? He had been about a great deal
with Mademoiselle — was it not so? And he had gone away,
had he? That was a good thing; for she had feared that he
was there to marry Mademoiselle, who was much too good and
kind and amiable for him." And there followed many expres-
sions of affection, rare and unwonted, from the crabbed old
woman. Now in the twilight Mrs. Fleming opened a sort of
cracked spinet, old enough apparently to have been played by
Dame Jacqueline herself. They had all laughed often enough
at its wheezy sound, and Jack had solemnly told his mother
that its " tones were sufficient to madden the cohorts of hell,"
and almost convinced her thereby that he was losing his mind.
If one sounded only a few notes, however, and those very
gently, it was not so frightlul. Mrs. Fleming touched it very
softly.
" Marjorie," she said to the girl, sitting silently near," I
have not heard you sing lately."
"I am getting lazy. Auntie. It is that."
" Surely not. Well, my dear, it shows advancing years, no
doubt, to say so, but I do not appreciate any of your modern
ballads as much as the songs ' they used to sing when I was a
girl.' " She indicated just a chord or two, and hummed a little
of " The Valley Lay Smiling Before Me." '* Now I always
liked that," she said. "And this, too, was a great favorite of
mine, though it is sad ; and she began to sing low :
" ' Take, oh, take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn;
And those eyes, the break of day.
Lights that do mislead the morn — * "
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i9o6.] Narcissus 73S
when she heard the rustling of a skirt^ aini, looking, found that
Marjorie had gone.
"Well, Will," she asked in mild surprise, "what has come
to our Marjorie? She never used to be so — so fitful and
capricious. Is it only my fancy, or is she looking a little thin
lately?"
"I think, mother," said Will gently, ''that she needs a
change, perhaps; and we have been long enough in Martres.
Suppose we go back to Paris now."
So it was settled ; and within a week every arrangement
was complete, to the regret of those in Martres to whom
they had endeared themselves. And one bright June morning
the diligence carried them down the road towards Cahors,
waving adieux to the cur^, who had given them his blessing,
and to Etienne and his parents, and to Mattre Sebastien, and
to Nicolette, whose eyes were so red for days after that Etienne
felt it to be a little hard on him. As for poor old Jeanneton^
she sobbed loudly, and recovered only after they had disap-
peared in the dust of the highway, to seize by the ear Pierre,
who was likewise blubbering, and lead him homeward.
"Farewell, St. Vidian and Martres!" cried Jack. "I de-
clare I am sorry to leave. I had quite made up my mind to
live in Martres always, and to be a potter and marry the black-
eyed girl I danced with at the wedding. Vain, vain dream I "
and he sighed portentously ; but cheered up presently, and asked
his mother if she did not want a bit of broken crockery off the
road as a souvenir.
Their way lay at first, by coach, through most beautiful and
varied mountain scenery ; then they came to a more level and
thickly settled region ; and then they reached Cahors and were
on the train and whirling rapidly towards Paris. On their ar-
rival, they drove to the quarter where they had formerly
lodged, near the principal theatres and the shops, and were
soon settled and very much at home.
Of course it was impossible that at her age Marjorie should
not take a certain interest in the freshness and novelty and
gayety of the most delightful of cities. When they were not
out shopping or driving in the Bois or at the Exposition, she
seemed to find amusement, even, in watching from her window
the brilliant street below, with its throngs of Parisians and
other world citizens.
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736 NARCISSUS [Sept.,
But Will, who studied her every mood, knew the difference
between this time and the^ last. Her interest in everything now
was fitful and apt to be succeeded by an interval of silence
and depression. Her round, soft cheek looked paler than he
had ever seen it, and there was at times a quick, pained look
in her brown eyes. Often when Jack would have dragged her
with his mother to some new amusement he had discovered,
she would make her escape, to be found by Will in a picture
gallery, perhaps, apparently absorbed before some painting ; or,
oftener, sitting quietly in some dark corner of the Cathedral.
And when he would remonstrate about her going anywhere
alone in a European city, she would tell him, with just a touch
of her former sauciness, that it was sometimes a joy and a
comfort to get rid of everybody.
One evening they were all coming out of a theatre, and they
met in one of the ante-rooms a party of acquintances. New
Yorkers. Gay greetings and polite conventionalities were ex-
changed, and future visits arranged, and they fell to talking of
common friends over here.
" By the way," said one of the men to Will, ** you know
Philip Carhart, of Baltimore ? "
" Quite well," said Will. " He spent last month with us in
the Pyrenees."
"Then you know, or do not know, that he has been ap-
pointed to a vacant judgeship since his return home, and is
about to marry Hugh Deloraine's daughter. They have been
engaged for a very long time, and a good thing it is for Carhart.
She has a fortune in her own right, and then her father's in-
fluence means rapid advancement for his son-in-law." A little
desultory chat of other matters, and the party separated.
All the way home Marjorie spoke not one word, and her
face, to Will, looked quite white when the light from the street
flashed for a moment at a time through the carriage window.
Next morning, however, he was equally surprised and delighted
to note some subtle change which had come over her. She
seemed to have made a call on her own spirit and mettle — a
fixed resolve to please and interest herself entirely in outside
matters, and within even a few days' time he fancied a slight
color had returned to her cheek and added light to her eyes.
About two weeks after this he received a letter from Philip
Carhart, which he mentioned casually at the table. When later
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I906.] NARCISSUS 737
the rSverbires were being lighted in the street, and he and
Marjorie leaned together from a window looking down at
the crowd, he reverted to it, saying carelessly:
" Carhart sends his regards to mother and yourself."
"Yes?" said Marjorie, still gazing down into the street;
and then, after a pause, she asked indifferently: "Does he
give you news ? Does he speak of his wedding ? "
"On the contrary," said Will, "he is in trouble; or" — with
irony — ^^ some men would be in trouble in his place. His
fiancee is dead ; died a few days before the date fixed for the
wedding."
" Oh ! " said Marjorie in a whisper. " Oh, poor thing !
How dreadful 1 Was it not very sudden?"
"Yes"; he replied, "she has always been very delicate, he
writes ; but her death was terribly sudden — from heart disease.
Let me see, I have the letter somewhere" — feeling in his
pockets. " But it docs not matter — I remember what he says.
Her poor father, who is quite distracted with grief, desired to
carry out her expressed intention, and give Philip half her
fortune; but he would not accept it in that way. He writes
calmly enough, saying that he admired and respected her, and
that her death was a shock; but that I knew his views in re-
gard to matters of love and marriage — alluding to a conversa-
tion we held on the subject in Martres — and that, therefore,
in writing to me, he made no pretence of inconsolable grief.
At present he is busily occupied with work and study, and is
to take his seat as judge very shortly."
" And what are his views ? " Marjorie asked slowly. " That
a man should be glad when his fiancee is dead?"
"Not exactly," said Will hesitating, for he was naturally
chivalrous; and then he did what nine men out of ten would
have done. " The fact is, Marjorie, Philip Carhart, with a
good deal of brain, has very little heart. He is absolutely de-
voted to — Philip Carhart. His own career is his end, aim,
and object in life; and no minor distractions, such as feeling
and sentiment, are permitted to interfere with it. Our fellow-
students at Heidelberg named him ' The Iceberg ' ; yet they
admired him for his brilliant successes, and liked him for his
courteous manners. You may wonder at our intimacy, per-
haps, when I think him so cold and selfish; but he showed
a marked and flattering preference for me at college; and I
VOL. LXXXIII.— 47
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738 Narcissus [Sept.,
was with him continually, finding him interesting, in spite of
all. As these people here would say in similar case : ' quand
meme' "
No comment on all this from Marjorie, who was staring
down again at the thousand twinkling lights and the surging
crowds, and had begun to listen apparently to the hum that
comes up from the street, and to the cathedral bell tolling
the hour, and to a distant sound of a band playing somewhere.
But Will was conscious all the evening afterwards that he
was being regarded by her continually and wistfully, yet ab-
stractedly ; and when bed- time came, and Jack was perform-
ing a war dance around his mother with a lighted candle, fill-
ing her with deep alarm for her gown, the girl went up to
Will and, laying a hand on his arm, said earnestly: '' Will, I
do not think I have been quite well for a long time, and I
am sure I have been very cross. But you may be certain I
have seen how thoughtful and considerate and kind you have
been. You have thought me perfectly hateful, have you not ? "
And he would have liked to say to her: "I have always
thought you, and I think you now, the sweetest woman in the
world " ; but he dared not, for he felt it was still too soon —
too soon.
More Exposition and theatre-going and driving and meet-
ing of friends, and then Mrs. Fleming represented to Jack that
his college was about to open and that to amuse oneself
was not the only object of life.
"If you will just leave me over here, Mammy, I will try to
make it so," that youth declared with the utmost hardihood.
But Will, who had seen Marjorie's face lighten, came to his
mother's assistance and averred that he for one was tired of
Europe, Asia, Africa, and the South Seas, and longed to see
his own, his native land once more.
'* I think I am tired, too," said Marjorie, " of foreign parts
and ways."
And it was settled, in spite of Master Jack's protests.
'* They say the New Year begins in January," said Marjorie
to Will, where he stood beside her on the deck of the vessel,
looking at the receding land. " For my part, the end of every
summer seems to me the end of the year. It is always an
idle, dreamy, joyous, pleasant time, and then it dies and au-
tumn comes in its place."
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I906.] NARCISSUS 739
"Are you seeing its ghost now, Marjorie?" he asked.
''Indeed, no"; she said, straightening her slender form
proudly and looking, with the breeze blowing her hair about
and freshening her cheek, quite like the Marjorie of old. 'I
am seeiiig something young and lair and new. Le rot est ntort^
vive U roii*^ And she went on, unconscious that he had al-
ways read ** between the lines " : " See how the old world
glides away from us. Let us sail back into our own ' new
world which is the old ' ; and who knows — who knows what
we may find there ? "
" Who knows, my dear ? " repeated he.
PART II.
*• Nay, I spoke once, and I gfievM thee sore,
I remember all that I said ;
And now thou wilt hear me no more — no more.
Till the sea gives up her dead ! '
" But that time is gone and past —
Can the summer always last? "
" Some there be that shadows kiss,
Such have but a shadow's bliss."
Chapter I.
" Jack ! Jack 1 Jack I " called Marjorie, stopping to bang at
his door as she ran down the stairs, " you ought to be ashamed
of yourself, you drone! You sluggard! Half-past nine on a
nice, frosty morning, and you in bed ! Get up ! ' The lark
is trilling high his matin lay.'"
" Let him trill," responded a drowsy voice from within.
'* If you don't get up this moment I shall come to you."
" Come on," still more drowsily.
This threat having failed in effect, she stooped to take off
one small slipper, and opening the door a little bit threw it
in with force, calling: '*Well, Til send a messenger, anyhow."
A sudden crash and smothered ejaculation following this
made her fly swiftly down the staircase.
" Why, Marjorie, where is your other slipper ? You will
take cold," was her aunt's morning greeting.
"Jack !" explained Will succinctly. "Whenever Marjorie
displays eccentricities a little more pronounced than usual, you
may feel sure that Jack is concerned in it somehow."
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740 Narcissus [Sept.,
'' He has the other/' she admitted carelessly, taking her
seat. " James," to the attendant, '' go up to Mr. Jack's room
and say I send him my tender regards, and would he be kind
enough to return me my slipper."
Who departed thereupon, and came back presently "with
Mr. Jack's devoted love to Miss Marjorie, mum, and as the
slipper had fallen into the water pitcher, mum, be had dried
it, and was now on his knees before it and would rather part
with his life, mum."
•'Now, Will," said Marjorie, when he stood in great- coat
and hat ready for departure, *' you don't mean to say you are
not at our service this morning, and we going to look at Mrs.
Partington's bric-a-brac!"
''I don't think I care much about china dragons and hide-
ous vases myself ; and I must certainly keep my appointment
at the Archaeological," said he; "but, of course, little cousin,
I am always at your service, and can, perhaps, find time
somewhere in the day."
"Oh, no, thank you " — indiflFerently — "it does not matter in
the least."
" Do you know, auntie " — musingly, after he had been gone
a while — " I have been very much disappointed in Will."
" How, my dear ? " asked Mrs. Fleming, in quick surprise.
" Oh, agreeably disappointed, I mean, of course. I always
expected him to be an idler."
"Well, Marjorie"— a little offended— "/ never did."
"Why, auntie, it would have been only natural that with
his — his looks and his manner — gay, you know, and debo-
nair, as they used to say in Martres — and being musical and
all that, that he should have become simply a man of leisure,
a society man, as one sees so many young men now, with only
half as much income as he has, perhaps. Instead oi which,
see how constantly he has been occupied this winter, and how
much he has done for learned societies and for charity. It is
quite a compliment that the ' Archaeological ' has asked him to
deliver that lecture before them on the twenty- fifth."
" Yes " ; agreed Mrs. Fleming, with motherly pride, " I
hope both my boys will turn out good and wise men."
And when her aunt left her, Marjorie fell to thinking, as
she gazed into the fire, how little she had seen of Will that
winter. Was it her fault or his? With her it had been the
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i9o6.] Narcissus 741
usual society winter in New York — one round of balls, recep-
tions, and musicales — a whirl of pleasure; and her few even-
ings at home found her surrounded. When she had had a
moment to miss him, he had seemed to be quite absorbed in
his books or societies, or in writing those scientific papers for
which the savants praised him so much. True, be was always
ready for escort duty when beeded ; but that was seldom; for
there were always others on hand, and she remembered, with
a touch of pique, how willing he appeared to leave that pait
to the others.
Jack entered now with the missing slipper in his hand, quite
dry and innocent of the smallest stain of water.
*' Oh, Jack, what a story ; it never fell into the water pit-
cher at all ! "
" No " ; with extreme sternness, " I wish it had. It did
worse. It knocked the water pitcher over on my best rug;
and a pretty mess it has made. I have a great mind "^^^ap-
proaching the grate — "to put it in the fire."
" No, don't " ; stretching out a stockinged foot, " put it on
my foot, instead."
''Well, I will this once. But, mark me, if this thing con-
tinues, and I am not allowed my morning slumber in peace and
quietness, I will emigrate. I will go to Africa to fight the
Zulus or to cultivate the coffee berry on the banks of the Nile."
'' In the meantime, hadn't you better see to your breakfast ?
It must be dead cold," with evident malicious enjoyment of
the fact.
** If that is so " — peering under the dish covers — " I will —
'* Here, James ! Jupiter Tonans ! Why is my breakfast left on
the table to cool?"
*' Didn't know, sor, what moment you'd be down, sor."
" Is that a reason ? Bring me something hot like light-
ning ! " And James vanished, not at all discomposed, for, as
he blandly explained in the kitchen, " he was used to Mr*
Jack's little ways."
"They will expel you some fine day. Jack," Marjorie told
him as he sauntered off to his college after a while, like a gen-
tleman of infinite leisure.
Twelve o'clock as usual saw a dark coupe and pair drawn
up before the door; and Marjorie and her aunt went for their
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742 Narcissus [Sept,
drive in the park, to bow to some acquaintances and chat with
others, and to be escorted (or a few minutes at a time by va-
rious cavaliers. Then to take up two friends at their houses
to go with them to the china sale. As they passed swiftly
down Broadway, Marjorie caught a fleeting glimpse of a head
and shoulders which seemed familiar.
'' If Judge Carhart were here," she told her aunt, " I should
say I had just seen him on the street."
'' Indeed 1 " said Mrs. Fleming, and speedily forgot the
matter in an animated discussion over big china monsters and
vases of Sevres and Cloisonn^, and every other known ware in
the very ugliest forms that ever delighted ladies' souls. This
important business and luncheon happily over, their friends
were set down at their doors ; and then they drove home again
for afternoon callers, a little rest, and a few invited guests for
dinner.
When Marjorie descended l^ter she iound Will dressed and
waiting in the drawing room. '' Whom do you think I met to-
day, Marjorie," he asked, coming to meet her, "on Broadway,
' promiscuous- like,' as Jack would say?"
" PhiJip Carhart, by chance ? "
" Why, how did you know ? "
" I, too, saw him on the street."
'' Well, he is here for a while with his younger sister, staying
at the Waldorf. I asked them to dine ; but she was going to a
concert, and he had a business engagement, but would call later
in the evening. He's looking a little pale and worn, I think.
Working too hard, possibly. Then, also, he gives one the im-
pression that his fruit will always be apples of Sodom, useless
as soon as plucked, and making him eager for something else."
Here their guests began to arrive and interrupted them.
Philip's call was sufficiently early, for they were just leaving
the table from dinner as he was ushered in ; and he saw the
ladies, a group of softly* tinted coloring, pass first under the
portiere at the end of the brilliantly-lighted rooms. They came
up across the polished floors towards him, and then one figure
detached itself and advanced holding out a warm white hand.
It was Marjorie, her creamy silk waving far behind her, and
purple pansies in her hair and bosom. It was herself and not
herself; for when had the little maiden at Martres been used
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I906.J Narcissus 743
to look at him with that clear, full gaze; and where had she
acquired that repose of manner and little touch of gracious
queenliness? A few low- toned conventionalities, an introduc-
tion or two to those nearest, and he found himself seated be-
side Mrs. Fleming and answering that kind lady's inquiries.
" My mother," he told her, " remained this winter in Eng-
land with my elder sister, who married, you know, a young
English clergyman whom she n^et at Bigorre. Molly returned
with me, and has been staying since with our aunt in Baltimore.
I have not been quite up to the mark lately myself — found I
needed rest; so I got some one to take my place for the re-
mainder of this term, and brought her over for a little trip.
Unluckily, however" — with a somewhat annoyed smile — "*The
best laid schemes o' mice and men gang aft aglee,' I have had
a telegram this afternoon which compels my return for a week
or two; and, as of course I cannot leave her here in the
meanwhile, I am afraid she will lose her visit — for this time."
" Of course you can't leave her at the hotel ! " said Mrs.
Fleming, all her natural hospitality rampant at once. ''But
why should you not leave her with us ? We should be de-
lighted. It would be such a pleasure for Marjorie; and the
boys would try and insure her a nice time. It would be a
shame to whisk her back that way before she can see any-
thing of New York."
"My dear Mrs. Fleming, I am already heavily in your
debt for kindness received, and could not impose on you again
that way. But I thank you very earnestly."
" Oh, but I will take no refusal. It is the simplest thing
in the world. Will, come here"; and Will, whatever his secret
objections to a plan which would involve Philip's frequent
presence in their home on his return, was forced to add his
entreaties to his mother's ; and the matter ended by Mrs.
Fleming's asking when he would leave in the morning. " Half-
past ten ? Then the carriage will be sent for her at nine,"
and various messages followed to the young lady.
Here they were startled by a meek- looking gentleman sit-
ting down at the piano and roaring out suddenly that he was
somebody "ragged and tanned," which moved one to examine
the irreproachable evening costume which he was pleased to
designate as " rags." Then a lady executed a marvelous Hun-
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744 NARCISSUS [Sept.,
garian polonaise, all brilliancy, and musical pyrotechnics enough
to make the hearers giddy. Under cover of the subdued ap-
plause following this, Philip drew nearer Marjorie, and said,
with a slightly injured air : " You are so much surrounded,
Miss Fleming, that it is almost impossible to approach you."
"Yes; I am hostess, you know" — in a matter-of-fact way.
"That is, I am the one who does most of what Lady Cork
used to call the 'circulating'; for my aunt is fond of keeping
still. Not," with a frank friendliness that somehow displeased
him, ''that I should not enjoy very much a chat about our
pleasant summer days, but I shall hope for a better opportu-
nity. Excuse me, now" — moving away again; and a few mo-
ments afterwards she was seated at the piano, and after pre-
liminary chords began to sing.
It was " Oh, that we two were maying " ; and he disliked
this song, calling it, indeed, " trite and vapid sentimentality."
Also, a rapid glance at the owner of the male voice, whose
tones blended with hers, convinced him that the tenor was a
"vacuous dude." But there was something about the girl's
voice — he had never heard her sing before — something odd
and touching, something peculiar which thrilled. " Yet, I have
heard much finer v6ices," he thought, almost resentfully. This
voice, he decided, held a rare and sympathetic tone, which un-
doubtedly thrilled the hearer.
" I am doing something very foolish," he said, finding him-
self again, coffee cup in hand, beside her.
" I did not think you ever did anything foolish."
" I do not often " — coolly — " yet I am drinking strong
coffee now, though it may keep me awake all night. It is to
drown remorse. Did they tell you you were to have a guest
to-morrow? I seem to be always inflicting myself, or one of
the family, on all of you."
" Auntie told me she hoped to keep your sister with us for
some time. It is far from an infliction, I assure you " — politely
— " but a great pleasure."
A young man, with a single eye-glass screwed in, came
and interrupted them, and Philip was inclined to classify him
as a puppy. Then others surrounded her, and after a while he
went away. He returned to the hotel and sat up late to flnish
some writing; during which he found himself wondering once
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i9o6.] Narcissus 745
or twice if Marjorie Fleming had always looked and spoken and
acted as she did now ; to decide which fully, he overruled his
sister's faint objections to her impromptu visit at the Flemings',
and arranged matters to suit himself, as was his custom.
" I am sorry, Marjorie," Will was telling her at the same
time, "that you will be bored with Miss Carhart; but I had to
second mother's invitation."
" I shall like to have her," declared she. " I imagine that
she is a very pleasant girl."
" Why, Marjorie, you said in Martres that she looked snap-
pish, and — and — and a lot of other things ! "
"I thought her snappish in Martres'* — with an air of being
extremely logical — "because I had a black patch on my nose,
and was vexed with Jack and you and myself. Just now I
am in good health and spirits, and am delighted with all the
world; and I have no doubt I shall find her very charming.".
Which was all very well, but a trifle unsatisfactory to Will,
who felt that he had failed in his object of finding out whether
she was pleased or not with the prospect of again seeing Philip
Carhart frequently.
(to be continued.)
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'LIZA OF THE ALLEY.
BY M. F. QUINLAN.
E was a rope-walk girl — a wild creature and im-
pulsive, as quick with her tongue as she was
sure with her list. Instinctively people made
way as she passed along; for they deemed it
wise to propitiate 'Liza Twigg.
As a child she had attended a neighboring poor-school.
Yet by some art, known only to herself, she had somehow
managed to evade success both in learning and industry. The
result was that she could neither read nor write, nor cook nor
sew. But why continue ? 'Liza Twigg could do nothing save
make rope and scrub floors. As a matter of fact, she prided
herself on scrubbing floors, though she seldom indulged in it.
In matters religious her limitations still held. She knew
nothing of doctrine, and rarely did she set her foot inside a
house of prayer. Yet, withal, sh^ had a vague sense of a
Supreme Being, and a great reverence for what she considered
sacred.
At the time I speak of she was eighteen years of age, and
just then under instruction for her First Communion. And as
she was my friend, it was arranged that I should undertake
the preliminary preparation.
To me these instructions were usually discouraging. But
if there was one person who was even more discouraged than
I, it was 'Liza of the Alley. For no sooner did I open a
catechism, than the catechumen sat bolt upright and assumed
an attitude of strict impartiality. Never did anything out of
a book affect her heart or her judgment. But the reason of
this lay in the fact that never did anything out of a book
ever reach the cells of her understanding. So I used to lay
the book down in despair.
" Let's talk," I'd suggest.
"Yuss, thet's it"; was the invariable reply, and the girl
from the rope-walk would hitch up her shawl with a sense of
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I906.] 'LIZA OF THE ALLEY 747
relief; and forthwith she would tell me of the loves and the
hates of the Alley. A considerable element of the mundane
used thus to enter into our spiritual relations. But, irregular
as the method was, it tended to cement our friendship.
One day, in a burst of confidence, she told me what the
Alley thought about me. At least she was going to, when
she decided not. Her reason for suppressing the local ver-
dict was in view of human frailty'in general, and mine in par-
ticular. For, as she remarked with much earnestness, "ev ycr
was ter know wot the Alley sez abaht yer, yer'd fair go orf
yer 'ead." Under these circumstances, I could not but be
grateful for her restraint.
Meanwhile, our theology proceeded but slowly. Then one
day I gave her a crucifix. She could understand that, and
her eyes brightened. Never in her life had she been given
anything for her very own ; and this was a sacred treasure.
She received it in her open palm and, her eyes having rested
on it a moment, she raised it to her lips.
In ancient times, when the Jewish scribe came to the name
of Jehovah he covered up his face, for he realized the might of
the Holy One. But the girl from the Alley knew nothing of
his Majesty. She only knew that the Master had died for her.
Therefore she kissed the feet of the Christ in love, and when
she turned towards me her *eyes were full of tears.
"Til be good, straight"; she whispered. And having pulled
the old brown shawl over her head she went out into the
darkness, with the crucifix in her hand.
She was to have returned in a day or two, but the next
week came and went without her. So I made my way down
the Alley and knocked at the door of the hovel.
"You didn't come"; I ventured.
" No " ; said she. Then followed a pause. " There was a
fight," she said abruptly, "an' — an' I were in it. An' I prom-
ised yer I'd keep aht of it. An' I guv away the crucifix,"
she added.
"Why?" I asked.
For answer the girl hung down her head and bit the cor-
ner of her apron, while in the length of the squalid court there
was silence. Then presently she spoke : " Seemed like as if I
weren't good enuff fur to 'ave thet theer crucifix. So — so I
guv it ter Moggie."
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748 'LIZA OF THE ALLEY [Sept.,
The rope-walk girl leaned her head wearily against the
door of the hovel and choked down a sob. '' It's mighty 'ard
ter be good in the Alley," she said.
Thus 'Liza and I became friends. And when I left the
quarter she used to write to me — the letters being, of course,
by proxy.
It was about two years later when I received, one morn-
ing, a remarkable communication from the Alley. It was to
the effect that they did not forget me ; and when was I com-
ing back? She had had no further instructions, she stated,
and, '' God help her for saying it," she hadn't been to Church.
So far the epistle was negative and indirect. Then there
would seem to have been a pause, wherein 'Liza and the scribe
had stopped to discuss matters, after which the pen of the
scribe became distinctly positive. "If," the letter went on,
"if I were to ask her to stay with me, she'd come."
That was all. She made no request She merely postu-
lated a theory and diagnosed the result. So, of course, I
asked her. ''Come next Tuesday," I suggested, "and stay
for a week."
But 'Liza Twigg gave no sign of life. Thus a week passed^
and at length I wrote again. Still no answer. Then I com-
municated with the Social Settlement in the neighborhood^
begging that one of the ladies would go and reconnoiter in
the Alley; and it was on receipt of her information that I
wrote once more to 'Liza Twigg.
Hitherto, the Alley had been Liza's world. For though she
went daily to the rope- ground, and at night she loitered about
the street corners, or sat in a public- house bar, still all these
things took place within a half-mile radius of her home. She
had never been beyond Aldgate. And now she was afraid to
venture, for beyond Aldgate lay an unknown world.
First there was a horse-tram to be encountered; after that
there would be a train. And did not rumor say that the train
lay underground — running along in the dark? To 'Liza of the
Alley it sounded sinister. And after the train ? Heaven only
knew what further horrors awaited her. Thus, all things con-
sidered, 'Liza Twigg thought it best to remain where she was.
But even so, even though the actual visit fell through, there
still remained the social prestige which necessarily accrued to
such an invitation. An invitation for a week's visit ! The news
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I906.] 'LIZA OF THE ALLEY 749
ran like wildfire down the Alley, bringing all its denizens into
the open.
"Lord save us/' said the Alley in a paroxysm of astonish-
ment, '' an' did any one ever hear the like I " And the femi-
nine world, from force of habit, meditatively wiped its grimy
face in the corner of its apron. The statement was almost be-
yond credence; such an experience never having befallen
hitherto.
So the people of the Alley stood in their doorways and
wondered. And among these stood the father of 'Liza Twigg.
He, of course, was surprised, too, but his feeling of surprise
was apparently tempered with regret — that the invitation was
limited to 'Liza. After all he, too, was my friend. Then Jim,
the half-daft fish-porter, propped his shoulder against the
mouldy wall of the Alley, and, after rubbing his unshaven chin
resentfully, made a brief statement.
" Wishes ter Gawd she'd ask me," said he. But in view of
the omission there seemed nothing for it but to swear at the
" cussedness " of things. This he did gently, but thoroughly, be-
fore he replaced his pipe and withdrew into the hovel. It was
lucky, perhaps, that Johnnie was away " hopping " in Kent
when my letter reached 'Liza. Otherwise, I think, he also
would wish to have come. Time was when Johnnie used to
constitute himself my champion, and, on these occasions, no
man might swear when I was in the Alley. In truth, he safe-
guarded me well. Nay, further. Did he not, one gray morn-
ing, when the Alley was out cAar-ing — and when only the spar-
rows were by — did be not offer me his photograph and ask —
Ah, Johnnie! did you but know it, yours was, perchance,
the triumph of failure. . . •
However, all this is by the way, though it partly accounts
for the elation of 'Liza Twigg at receiving an invitation to
stay. But, though she had asked for the invitation, she now
hesitated whether she would accept it.
Accordingly, in that final letter, I thought it well to en-
large upon the advantages of the position.
She would have a bedroom all to herself, I asserted. And
there were pink curtains to her window and a white coverlet
on her bed. Outside there were green trees; and also grass
to walk upon. Did she like flowers? Then she must see these.
Any number of flowers were here. They were not tied up in
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750 'LIZA OF THE ALLEY [Sept.,
rush-baskets, but growing on their own stalks; positively wav-
ing about as the wind blew. And if she could only see the
birds flying about in the park; pigeons and doves and wag-
tails and — and crows. Thus did I paint the joys of life be-
yond the Alley. Besides, as I added, should she come to stay
with me, she might, if she wished, continue her religious in-
structions.
Then 'Liza of the Alley consented, even while she trembled
at her own temerity.
It was accordingly arranged that she should start on the
afternoon oi a certain day. But hardly had the day dawned
than 'Liza was stirring. She put on her new outfit in all haste ;
together with a new air of importance. Hitherto she had lived
in rags and obscurity ; to-day she was to go hence and take
her place in the glare of the polite world. Consequently she
was somewhat impatient at her father's reiterated injunctions
and commands. Her father swept up snow for the local ves-
try, and in the Alley he ranked as a minor aristocrat, whose
good opinion was to be valued. Indeed, I thought myself for-
tunate in being singled out by Mr. Twigg of the Alley. And
on this occasion he charged 'Liza with kind messages. These
consisted of odd- sounding references to past events which were
common knowledge to us both, mingled with welcome but
seemingly irrelevant prayers for my eternal weal. In saying
that the prayers seemed irrelevent, I mean that on their de-
livery they were so intermixed with mundane affairs, that I
was at first rather bewildered, though I was the more ready
to subscribe to the belief in the dual nature of man ; and oi
the interdependence of soul and body. Yet Mr. Twigg was
no metaphysician. Nay, have I not said it? he was a road-
sweeper. And having delivered his messages, he took up his
broom and hied him to the scene of his labors. But this was
a day of days — if not to the local vestry, at least to Mr. Twigg
— therefore, he deemed it an occasion when he might, without
reproach, absent himself awhile from the post of duty. So at
midday, after finishing his dinner, which had been tied up in
the ever- cheerful bandana, he turned his steps homewards.
Then, pushing open the door of the hovel, he thrust in his
head.
'' 'Liza, me gel ! I 'opes as yer 'aven't furgot the mes-
sages wot I told yer. Me best respec's, d'yer mind me now !
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I906.] 'LIZA OF THE ALLEY 75 1
an' I 'opes she's enj'yin' the best of 'ealth an' sperits, an' be
sure an' tell 'er — "
But 'Liza's nerves were to-day at high tension, " Garn,"
she said unceremoniously, '' 'ow many more times are yer
goin' ter tell me? 'aven't yer said it all afore, wifout comin'
'ome from work a purpose ter s'y it agen ? My lor ! w'y, I
wonders me 'ead don't bust wif yer messages an' wot not."
Partially quelled by this filial outburst, Mr. Twigg and his
broom slowly withdrew from the Alley.
Then Moggie came in from the rope-walk, an' Moggie
begged to see 'Liza off, even at the loss of half a day's work.
But 'Liza declined — politely but firmly. For did not Moggie
wear the twin badges of servitude — the apron and shawl of
the rope- ground? Whereas 'Liza, as she afterwards told me,
felt "thet proud."
Yet 'Liza at one time had thought a white apron and a
blue shawl the ne plus ultra of desire. But not now. For now
she had fallen under the spell of a second-hand jacket and
skirt. Indeed it was the assumption of such polite attire that
marked the parting of the ways. So Moggie, with a lump in
her throat, bade her farewells— obscurely — in the Alley, whence
'Liza emerged triumphant and alone.
All this, and much more, did 'Liza tell me later; and of
how Moggie's eyes had filled with tears, and how she had
grasped 'Liza's arm saying: 'Liza, tell 'er as me an' 'er 'as
alius been friends, an' — an' — p'heps she'll ask me ter stay."
And then Moggie had cried to herself because she was left
behind in the Alley.
At Aldgate Station a philanthropist from the Settlement
awaited to take over the charge of 'Liza of the Alley, and
thus, one early winter's day, they arrived about tea time — the
smartly dressed philanthropist and 'Liza Twigg, of Stepney.
With a shy look round, she gave me a quick glance to see
if I really was the same friend and companion of two years
ago. And having satisfied herself on this point, she forthwith
laid down the lumpy paper parcel, which contained her pos-
sessions, and putting her hands on her hips she made a brief
statement: "Don*t mind if I stays over Christmas." Then she
paused. "Yer see, I must git back then," she explained,
"'cos o' Moggie's weddin'."
It was now early in October, and I had invited her for a
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752 'LIZA OF THE ALLEY [Sept,
week. The programme was, therefore, a lengthy one, but I
trusted that time would dull my powers of attraction, which it
did. But that came later.
It was now time for afternoon tea, therefore 'Liza Twigg
was conducted downstairs, where she had hers by the kitchen fire.
From that out until evening I was variously occupied, but
at 8 o'clock 'Liza came up to sit with me as arranged.
First there was a prodigious knock at my door. It was a
knock such as is given at the street doors of tenements — a
loud, flabby sort of knock that goes with the East End dialect.
''Come in," I said hastily; whereupon the door opened
slowly, and the head of 'Liza Twigg peered round its bald edge
like the moon rising over a hill.
''I was just expecting you," said I. Thus encouraged she
closed the door with some caution, after which she proceeded
to take note of the surroundings.
'' The saints be good to us," she said fervently as her eyes
traveled up and down the little sitting-room, ''an' is all them
things your'n ? " Here she vaguely indicated the furniture. Try-
ing not to give way to arrogance, I nodded gravely. *' Come —
where will you sit?" I asked.
Then 'Liza of the Alley stood nervously in the middle of
the room and considered the matter. First she looked at the
sofa which had a pink cretonne cover. But the pink cretonne
cover evidently cowed her. She would have none of it. After
that she fixed her eyes on an old oak chair. It was mounted
in dark red velvet, and its original owner had as I believe,
been hanged as a Jacobite long years ago. Therefore it had
been known ever since as " The Earl's Chair." But I refrained
from telling this to 'Liza of the Alley, for fear she would
wish to know the length of the rope; and the exact number
of its strands; and how long — approximately— did the Earl
take to die. And these things I did not know.
But in spite of the fact that 'Liza Twigg knew nothing of
its history, the old chair seemed to inspire her with reverence,
for presently she pointed her finger at it shyly, and said to
me : " Kin I sit on it ? "
"Do," I answered. So she sat on its extreme edge.
" Well, 'Liza," said I sociably, " we don't seem to have met
since the year One. How's the Alley ? "
But 'Liza Twigg declined to unbend. Indeed it was with
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I906.] 'LIZA OF THE ALLE\ 753
abnormal propriety that she answered my question, sitting bolt
upright on the old oaken chair.
" The Alley/' she said stiffly, "is that respectable, yer would-
n't b'Heve. W'y, the periice walks dahn it, an' no one hinter-
feres wid 'em. Lord, yuss ; it's a lot changed, is the Alley."
At this information I nodded cheerfully. But it was not
true; and we both knew it
The position briefly was this: 'Liza Twigg was feeling
strange in her new surroundings, consequently she did not
think the tinie or place propitious for dealing with facts as
they stood. She felt the loss of the Alley as a background.
Here she was struck by a sense of contrast; and ^he probably
felt that she owed something to the furniture. Therefore, she
was constrained to propitiate the new gods. So 'Liza of the
Alley offered up what was best on the altar of conventionality.
She sacrificed truth. . But the sacrifice, howev.er well meant,
was unworthy, therefore no fire came down to consume it.
"How's Tilda?" I next asked.
" Tilda's fine," said 'Liza with dignity, ** an' as sober as a
jedge."
Then was I abandoned by hope, and accordingly I changed
the conversation. .
That night when 'Liza was in bed, I went into her room to
say good- night, as I feared she might be lonely. And I was
glad I thought of it, for there she was lying huddled up
against the wall, taking up as little space as possible. In the
single bed at home she had to make room for Moggie an'
Tilda ; for the hovel in the Alley had but two tiny rooms, and
in this limited space seven adults had to live : to c^t and sleep,
and cook and wash — yea, and cuijie and squabble. Or they broke
one another's heads as occasion or expediency demanded.
" I hope you'll sleep well," I said to 'Liza.
" Don't want ter;".was the unexpected reply. "I wants
ter think abaht it." With her hand she smoothed out a crease
in the sheet, and looked round her little room.
''Yuss; an' as likely as not," she ruminated; '/theer's them
as won't b'lieve it. They'll s4y as I lies."
She was thinking of the Alley and remained, plunged in
reflection.. "Tell yer wot," she said abruptly, 'lit hadn't
ought ter be 'ard to be good 'ere. Lawd I ter think of it, no
fights ahtside yer winders — no fights nor nuthink."
VOL. LXXXIII.— 48
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754 'LIZA OF THE ALLEY [Sept.,
Yet, here my mind went off at a tangent, what does Tho*
mas a Kempis say ? " The place yields small defence/' But
Thomas a Kempis had never lived in 'Liza's Alley.
The next day was to 'Liza Twigg the unfolding of many
joys; and, in fact, for the next few days she spent blissful
hours with her nose flattened against plate glass windows; or
rambling about in the neighboring park among the birds and
the flowers.
Besides this, she used to go up each morning to the clergy
house, where an eminent cleric, chaimed with this scheme in
experimental education, had undertaken her spiritual training*
That this was no sinecure may be judged by the following in-
cident.
It was a week later when 'Liza Twigg walked into my sit-
ting-room looking sullen and gloomy. Evidently something
had happened ; seeing which, I hastily laid dcwn my pen and
assumed an air of cheerfulness.
"Well, 'Liza," I said, "how are things going?"
" Jest any'ow," was the reply, and she sat down with aik
air of dejection.
" Was it the instruction ? "
'Liza nodded. Then there was a pause, and the girl from*
the rope walk shook her head. "It ain't no use," she said,
" I can't understand 'im. Yer see," she continued, " it's like
this 'ere. As long as 'e keeps on ajawin' I un'erstands 'im/
like, but w'en he leaves orf, I dunno wot it's abaht."
At this I felt sorry for the cleric, since it represented a
lavish expenditure and no return.
"Yuss"; continued 'Liza, "an' it wud be right cnuff if 'e
wudn't go arstin' me questions. Fur you 'ave ter say some-
think," she added. "An' to-day 'is reverence 'e sez ter me,.
* 'Liza,' sez 'e, * wot d' you know abaht the. Blessed Trinity?'
An' Lord 'clp me," interpolated 'Liza, "but I didn't know
nuthink. So I sits theer, an' I said n'er a word. So 'e arsts^
me agin, an' still I sez nuthink. Then 'e sez ter me, ' D' >er
know,' sez 'e, 'who's the Second Person of the Blessed Trini-
ty ? ' sez 'e. ' John the Baptist,' sez I. An' wid thet 'c 'ol-
lered at me, an' — an' — I come 'ome."
So 'Liza of the Alley, having failed at the preliminary ex-^
amination, laid her head on the table and wept.
That evening the parish priest called on me. He was a
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i9o6.] 'Liza of the Alley 755
student of humanity, and zealous. But his zeal seemed to have
suffered a reverse, for he had been beaten by the psychology
of 'Liza Twigg.
" Have you any more catechumens ? " he asked ; " that is,
any more from the rope- walk? Because, if so — well," he said
lugubriously, '' I was thinking of allowing the curate to win his
spurs over the next."
And the zealous cleric groaned again.
The next morning 'Liza came to me with a request. '* Fm
thinkin'," she said, "that if you was ter tell me wot ter say,
as I might, p'heps, be able ter remember it."
So each nK)rning after that we used to go over the lesson
together, and no sooner had I finished speaking, than 'Liza
would cram her old sailor hat onto her head; cram it down
hard, as if to keep in place the newly- acquired ideas ; and, thus
equipped, she used to make a bee line for the clergy house.
And 'Liza was surprised to find how gentle and kind the
great ecclesiastic now was to her; and she wondered why he
no longer asked her questions, but only talked to her about
serving God and loving her neighbor. But I knew, for had
not the ecclesiastic said to me that evening concernirg 'Liza
Twigg: "There are some souls for whom the knowledge is
sufficient that there is one God and Ten Commandments."
And in this way 'Liza Twigg, without any knowledge of
high mysteries^ began to run in the way of the saints.
She was now quite at • home in her new surroundings.
When she came up each evening to sit in my snuggety, she
sat back in her chair and fearlessly spoke out her mind.
She had been discussing the Alley. ''Yuss"; she said,
with all her old candor, '* it's a den of 'orrers. Straight! An*
as fur Tilda " — she paused — " Gawd 'elp me fur sayin' it, but
'Tilda's the wust drunkard in the Alley."
'^Then she's not changed much?" I ventured.
"No; nor won't, neither; not till she's carried aht feet
fust." The remark was significant in its senEe of finality.
Then, wishing to change the current of her thoughts, I
asked if she liked music.
" Not 'arf," said 'Liza, with suppressed enthusiasm, and
she took up her position right against the piano. She meant
to lose none of it. But what to play was the question. I
must only play what she would appreciate. Consequently there
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756 'LIZA OF THE ALLEY [Sept.,
could be no ''Dead Marches in Saul"; no Chopin of chro-
matic memory ; no Grieg with his dream pictures of dark
fiords and falling waters. Such things were banned. So I
started off with a swinging waltz ; then into another, diverg-
ing presently into a gay step-dance, such as the rope-walk
loves. And all the while there sat 'Liza of the Alley, silent
and absorbed.
At times I wondered whither the sounds were leading her.
Had they wafted her away on the fleet wings of memory to
the last " bean feast " at Margate ? Was she thinking of that
Bank holiday at Epping Forest ? Or did she hear again the
twang twang of the nigger minstrels and the rude applause of
the crowd, as she sat on the shingle at Southend?
I had ceased playing, but I was still pondering when I
heard a quick sigh — a sigh that had a catch in it — and look-
ing up I saw that the girl's cheeks were wet with tears.
** I wonders," she said simply, " if it's like thet in 'eaven
always, or on'y sometimes?"
At the question I drew back startled. It was as if, with
an unthinking hand, one had thrown a pebble into a wayside
pool, only to find that its depths reached down, even into the
heart of the infinite. Verily, it is in moments such as these
that one . realizes the mystery of ^ those hidden springs which
flow ever onwards, as if in obedience to some unknown law.
For is.it not written in Ecclesiastes : ''All the rivers run into
the sea, yet the sea doth not overflow; unto the place from
whence the rivers come, they return, to flow again"?
So the days passed, and 'Liza of the Alley drew in new
life; and. each/ day. the sun shone for her as never before.
' She had grown used to seeing the beauty of flower and tree,
consequently they only ' remained in her sub- conscious micd.
But what she did not get used to was the extraordinary phe-
nomenon of having as much food as she wanted. And pud-
dings, too! Why, the mind of the Alley must have reeled at
such news. . '' Puddings every day," she wrote, " an' as much
as ever yer. kin eat." Surely the Alley must have snaacked
its hungry lips at the reading.
But, as if to show that the human mind has natural aspi-
rations, which the sweetest pudding may not stayv 'Liza Twigg
stretched out her hands in the emptiness and refused to be
comforted. Then, one morning, the sitting-rccm door was
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I906.] 'LIZA OF THE ALLEY 757
rudely burst open, and a curiously dishevelled figure stood be-
fore me. " Can't stick it no longer. I'm goin' 'ome/' said she.
Collarless and unwashed, with her sleeves rolled up and
her hair uncombed, there stood the genuine 'Liza of yore.
The spirit of the Alley was upon her ; Stepney was calling.
" What's the trouble— do tell me ? " I said.
She hesitated, for the flying moments were precious. Then,
relenting, she took a chair; and little by little she uilburd^ned
herself.
It was not that she had ceased to care for the ways of
civilized life. No ; it was only that amongst the joys a certain
sorrow had sprung up, like a flaring poppylamong the corn.
Why hadn't Moggie written the bit of a letter ? ' Shie had
said she would; and, lo!! a cold silence lay out between this
and Stepney.
Had the Twiggs all perished, as with some sudden frost?
Had the Alley been swallowed up since she left ? What was
the meaning of it all ?
"Yuss"; said 'Liza with a strained look in her face, "I'm
orf — back ter the: Alley."
But it seemed a pity for her visit to terminate thus abruptly ;
so I laid a proposal before her.
" How would it be," I asked, " if I wrote a letter to Moggie
and asked her to write back by return of post ? "
And to this 'Liza finally agreed. But all that day, and for
part of the next, 'Liza Twigg was inconsolable. To her the
Alley was peopled with the dead ; and the pall of sorrow
hung dark on her horizon. She declined to take an interest
in anything. She moved about uneasily, like a spirit seeking
rest. It was Epictetus who once said: ''I am a soul, dragging
about a corpse." But 'Liza of the Alley was indifferent to
him. She gave herself up to laments just as Job did, when
— suddenly a letter dropped into the box. 'Liza's fingers
trembled as she opened it; the letter so eagerly expfcted; so
tardy in its coming. . . .
Moggie wrote briefly. She certified that the Alley was the
same, and that she wished to God she was out of it. She
thought 'Liza was happy in having pudding to eat every day,
and she wished she could see the pink curtains. The window
of the hovel had been broken the night before; their present
neighbors were no class, and when was 'Liza coming home ?
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758 'LIZA OF THE ALLEY [Sept.
The letter was a great relief. It was grateful news that the
Alley was intact except for the broken window; it was con-
soling to know that the Twiggs were still there ; but most com-
forting of all was the information that they wished they were
anywhere else. That was the main item, and it restored 'Liza.
In the reaction, she reverted to her old self, even going so
far as to compare some of the differences which characterized
the East End from the ^yest.
For instance : It so happened that when the housemaid was
out on an errand she had seen a tipsy man, and, wishing to
give him a wide berth, she had crossed over the street At
.which information 'Liza stared open-mouthed.
'' Wot," she said incredulously, '' yer wudn't pass a man
cos 'e's drunk? Lord love yer; w'y ! if yer was dahn our
w'y, yer'd 'ave to. For if yer crossed over, yer'd on'y meet
another; an' ev yer tried walkin' midway, yer'd knock agen
'em jest the same."
'Liza of the Alley was astonished at the fastidiousness of
polite servitude. Therefore, it was a relief to her to come up-
stairs and exchange confidences with me. For 'Liza and I
shared that larger knowledge whiqh belongs to waste places.
But now 'Liza's visit was drawing to a close. It had been
experimental ; and, as I would fain think, it was not entirely
without profit. Firstly, she had been given a chance — possibly
the only one so far — of leading the life of a civilized being;
secondly, she had attained the object of her visit — she had
drawn near to the Tree of Life, and had tasted of the Manna
which still falls in the modern wilderness. Now she must re-
turn whence she came.
So 'Liza Twigg stood ready, with her paper parcel under
her arm.
We had shaken hands, and I had bidden her God- speed,
when suddenly, without any warning, the paper parcel was
hurled on the floor, and a pair of strong arms were round my
neck.
*'Yer've bin good ter me," she said. ** Straight!"
With the back of her hand she brushed the tears from her
eyes. Then she picked up the discarded parcel, and, without
turning her head, she strode off into the darkness; and so,
back to the Alley.
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THE RELIGIOUS SITUATION IN FRANCE.
BY MAX TURMANN, LL.D.
II.
fND no^ let us examine those difficulties which the
Combes cabinet so eagerly exploited against the
Church; and first of all, the matter of episcopal
nominations.
Under the rigime of the Concordat there was
generally, as we have explained, a " previous understanding '*
between the French Government and the Holy See. It was,
at times, a rather tedious matter to agree upon' such and such
candidates. This was precisely the case during the ministry
of M. Waldeck- Rousseau, the predecessor of M. Combes. The
Pope deemed it necessary to reject several of the candidates
proposed by the French Government, and negotiations were
about to follow concerning the selection of others when M.
Combes stepped into office.
The first act of the new ministry was to present to the
Curia the names which had been discarded both by the Papal
Nuncio and the preceding cabinet. M. Combes declared that for
the sees in question he would never accept other candidates, and»
to emphasize the irrevocable character of his decision, publicly an-
nounced the names of the priests whom the Vatican had refused
to acknowledge. Such a course was, to say the least, decidedly
improper, as M. Combes was thus false to the word given by the
preceding cabinet in the name of France to the Holy See.
In the course of the negotiations he made public names which
should have been kept secret in sacred confidence, and such a
violation of trust could not but create trouble.
M. Combes venturetl still further, and even sought to usurp
the rights of the Holy See. ''According to the letter of the
law," says M. Jean Guiraud, • " the Government had a right
to nominate its candidates, and even publish their names in the
Journal Officiel ; but it is equally true that the right of canonical
• See Jean Guiraud. Op tit. P. 2$.
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76o THE RELIGIOUS SITUATION IN FRANCE [Sept,
investiture was absolute, and the Pope could reject candidates
thus proclaimed. Who could fail to see the disadvantages aris-
ing from a publication of the candidates' names; legal, to be
sure, but ill-advised, since it would seriously embarrass priests
favored by civil, and rejected by religious, authority; and, on
the other hand, give publicity to difficulties which diplomacy
should have solved. Moreover, both the French Government
and the Holy See had, heretofore, realized the necessity of
keeping secret all names save those concerning which they had
come to an agreement; and before officially nominating its
bishops the Government made sure that they were acceptable
to Rome, and that canonical investiture would not be denied
them. Such was the 'previous understanding.' M. Combes ex-
pressed his intention of ignoring it, and, strictly speaking, this
was his privilege, but it indicated a strong desire on his part
to widen the growing breach in his relations with the Vatican;
But what was absolutely illegal was to restrict the right of in-;
vestiture which the Concordat acknowledged to be the absolute
right of the Pope. Nevertheless, this, is what M. Combes pur-
posed when he demanded that the Holy See give its reasons
for refusing one of the names proposed, and that these reasons
should bear solely upon the faith and morals of the candidate.
This was impossible; because a candidate might not possess
the administrative ability required for the episcopate, and yet
might be irreproachable in both faith and morals. The Vativ
can, therefore, rejected this new claim as dangerous, and opposed
to the Concordat."*
* But grafted upon all these difficulties, was one of an especially delicate nature. The
French cabinet wished to do away with a formula {nobis nominavit) employed in the Bulls ad-
dressed by the Holy See to the Government for the nomination of bishops, which seemed to
indicate the dependence of the French State upon the Papacy. After much negotiation, the
Holy See consented to abolish the formula, judging that the pontifical claim was sufficiently
safeguarded by the purport of the letters of nomination addressed by the French Govern-
ment to the Pope. Here is the text of these letters as it is published in the White Book
(p. 41.)
•• Most Holy Father : The See of being vacant, on account of the death of Mgr.
, late incumbent, we believe that N would worthily fill the present vacancy. The
favorable opinion which led us to fix our choice upon him is all the stronger because we have
an intimate knowledge of the integrity of his hfe and morals, of his piety, learning, intellec-
tual power, prudence, and other commendable qualities which give us reason to hope that he
will devote all his zeal and attention to the service of religion and the glory of the episcopate.
It is with this in view that we name him and present him to your Holiness that, upon, our nomi-
nation and presentation, it may please you to appoint him to said see, by granting and forward-
ing him all Bulls and apostolic authorities required and necessary, according to the details
which will be brought for that purpose to the attention of your Holiness. We eagerly seize
this occasion to renew the assurance of our respect, etc. . . . '
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i9o6.] The Religious Situation in France 761
M. Combes announced bis furtber intention of compelling
tbe Pope to accept all the candidates in a body, declaring tbat,
so long as Rome rejected any one of tbe ecclesiastics proposed,
tbe Government would not make any nomination. In vain did
tbe Holy See try to insist upon a mutual agreement concerning,
at least, two or tbree candidates wbo could be elected witbout
awaiting tbe issue of negotiations pending in regard to otber
names. M. Combes remained inflexible, and during bis ministry
no episcopal vacancy was filled. Tbis, of course, explains wby,
on tbe rupture of tbe Concordat, fifteen episcopal sees were
unoccupied.
Tbe second conflict between tbe Frencb Government and
tbe Holy See was brougbt about by tbe visit of tbe President
of tbe Republic to tbe Quirinal, and by tbe consequent pro
test on tbe part of tbe Holy See against tbat visit. Tbis pro-
test served as a pretext for tbe recall from tbe Vatican of tbe
Frencb Ambassador.
Tbis conflict, so cunningly and odiously exploited by M.
Combes, is described as follows in tbe White Book published
by tbe Holy See: •
It bas been said, time and again, tbat tbe protestation
made by tbie Holy See, in consequence of tbis visit, caused
tbe rupture. Tbis is bistorically false. . . . First of all,
we must bere repeat wbat bas been openly declared on so
many occasions, and wbat tbe. Nuncio remarked to M. Del-
cass6, Minister of Foreign Affairs, in tbe audience of June 3,
1903, namely, tbat tbe Holy See, wbicb is always careful not
to interfere in tbe internal or external affairs of a State wben
tbe interests of tbe Cburcb are not involved, never intended
to disapprove, or in any way prevent, tbe reconciliation of
Italy and France; moreover, it looks witb pleasure upon
whatever tends to promote tbe brotherhood of nations and
lessen the danger of international conflicts and wars. Hence,
leaving out of the question the reconciliation ot the two na-
tions, had President Loubet visited King Victor Emmanuel
III. in another Italian city the Holy See would certainly have
remained silent. But, after the deplorable events of 1870,
which have as yet received no just atonement, such as would
guarantee the stable and complete independence of the Su-
preme Pastor of the Church, the I/oly See could not refrain
from protesting when the head of a Catholic nation, especially
when he himself was a Catholic, by a solemn and official
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762 THE Religious Situation in France [Sept.,
visit made in Rome to the King of Italy in an apostolic pal-
ace, sanctioned, ipso facto ^ the spoliation suffered by the Ro-
man Pontiff and the anomalous character of his present situa-
tion.
The White Book enlarges upon the chief reasons which,
since 1870, have caused the Papacy to adopt such an attitude,
and then dwells at length upon the particular case of Presi-
dent Loubet's visit to Rome.
From the time that Victor Emmanuel's trip to Paris began
to be talked about in July, 1902, the Nuncio did not fail to
draw M. Delcass^'s attention to the exceptionally serious sit-
uation that would be entailed by M. Loubet's visit to Rome,
and the Minister of Foreign Affairs positively declared that
the rumor of these two visits was without foundation. How-
ever, the official press of both countries continued, without
being contradicted, to assert the perfect agreement of France
and Italy on this exchange of visits, even setting dates for the
same. Therefore, on June i, 1903, the Cardinal Secretary of
State sent a note to the French Ambassador, M. Nisard, and
this note was transmitted to M. Delcass6. It openly declared
that the Holy Father considered M. Loubet's proposed visit
to Rome no less an offence to the rights of the Holy See than
to himself in person, and, in order that M. Delcass6 might en-
tertain no doubt whatever as to the Holy Father's opinion,
the Cardinal Secretary of State, by a despatch on June 8,
1903, addressed to the Nuncio in Paris and read to M. Del-
cass^, set forth ample reasons why the visit of the head of a
Catholic nation, especially of the French nation, could not, in
the present predicament of the Holy See, be other than a
grave offence, no matter what the intention of the visitor.
In spite of all these warnings, of the example of the heads
of other Catholic nations, although under much more trying
circumstances ; of the manifold proofs of good- will given to
France by the Roman Pontiffs, and particularly by Leo
XIII. ; of a long past during which France was made the
guardian of papal independence, M. Loubet, after Victor
Emmanuel's visit to Paris, journeyed to Rome, April 24, 1904.
As Cardinal Rampolla had foretold in his despatch of June 8,
1903, the Masonic press of both countries did not fail to in-
vest the presidential visit with a character openly hostile to
the Pope, and with its reports of the applause given to the
President of the Republic combined the most insolent mock-
ery of the Sovereign Pontiff. It was, therefore, but natural
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i9o6.] The Religious Situation in France 763
that the Holy See should resent the insult offered to it.
Hence the protest of April 28, 1904, which was couched, with
the exception of a slight variation, in the same terms as the
despatch of June 8, 1903.
The White Book continues :
This protestation was not intended for publicity. However,
since the Holy See had a major interest in preventing M.
Loubet's action from being* invoked as a precedent by the
sovereigns of other Catholic nations, it was found necessary
to inform such sovereigns that it had protested. And this
was done ; but they were not sent a copy of the protest ad-
dressed to the French Government, nor a circular, as some
had believed. An ordinary despatch was written to the re-
presentatives of the Holy See in the different States, authoriz-
ing them to read it and deliver copies of it to their respective
governments. A single exception was made in the case of
a sovereign at whose court the Holy See is not represented,*
the protest being made known to him through a note trans-
mitted to his representative at Rome. . . • These com-
munications themselves should have remained secret; how-
ever, it was likewise important that the Holy See reassure the
consciences of Catholics by informing them that no surrender
whatever on the part of the Sovereign Pontiff to the situation
created for him by the events of 1870 could be deduced from
the presidential visit. For this reason the Osservaiore Romano
of May 4 published a short official communication simply an-
nouncing the sending of the notes. It would be unjust to
claim that this proceeding was unseemly or lacking in pro-
priety, since it has become a diplomatic custom among all
governments. It was after this publication in the Osser*
vatore Romano that the council of Ministers met in Paris
to investigate the papal protest. On May 6 the French
Ambassador to the Holy See sent the Secretary of State a
note stating that the Minister of Foreign Affairs, having taken
the precaution of informing Parliament of the exact character
and object of the visit,t must now reject, in the name of his
Government, both the form and substance of the papal pro-
test. This closed the incident on the part of the French
Government, as M. Delcass6 himself declared.
• This sovereign, likewise a bishop, is the prince of Monaco.
f In this declaration M. Delcassd had asserted that, in making his visit to the King of Italy,
the President of the Republic had had no hostile intention toward the Holy See.
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764 THE RELIGIOUS SITUATION IN FINANCE [Sept.^
This had nothing io do with the Masons, who were eager
for the rupture with Rome. But an indiscretion, at variance
with all diplomatic rules, and imputed to the Government of
the Prince of Monaco, enabled rHumantie\ M. Jaures* news
paper, to publish the text of the confidential note sent by the
Curia to different States. This note contained the following
phrase, which is not found in the protest delivered to the
French Government: "If, despite that, the Nuncio has not
left Paris, it is solely on account of reasons of an altogether
special order and nature.** The newspapers bought up by the
Masons affected violent indignation, claiming that M. Loubet
had been insulted As the White Book says:
This phrase had not and could not have any other meaning
than the following : In case that M. Loubet's example were
followed by the heads of other Catholic nations, the Holy See
could go so far as to recall the Nuncio from his place of resi-
dence ; such a possibility is in no wise eliminated by the fact
that Mgr. Lorenzelli has not left Paris, since, in regard to
France, there are particular reasons and considerations for re-
taining him there. This phrase, therefore, expressed the
special deference and consideration that the Holy See has al-
ways had for France and it is really astonishing that its mean-
ing should for an instant have been interpreted as'o£fensive.
Nevertheless the French press desired thus to interpret it^
and then called upon the Government to demand apologies from
the .Holy See, under penalty of a rupture.
Let us now see what the White Book has to say on this
point.
On May 20, by order of his Government, M. Nisard, French
Ambassador to the Vatican, asked the Cardinal Secretary
of State if the note published in the Paris newspapers was
authentic ; if the same note had been communicated to other
governments ; and especially if the communication to other
governments contained the phrase concerning the Papal
Nuncio.
The Cardinal Secretary of State was certainly not bound
to answer such questions, and indeed all ministers of Foreign
Affairs would refuse to do so if a like demand were made
them by the representative of another power. However,
instead of refusing to answer, the Cardinal asked that the
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I906.] THE RELIGIOUS SITUATION IN FRANCE 765
questions be made out in writing, promising a written re-
ply within an hour or even half an hour. M. Nisard at
length accepted, adding that he would immediately pro-
ceed to write out his questions. The Cardinal's request
was fully justified, both by the gravity of the afiFair and
the well-known deafness of the French Ambassador, and it
was easier to furnish quickly the answer in writing, be-
cause such an answer had been in readiness ever since
the despatches announced the questions with which the
Ambassador had been charged! Among other things, this
reply stated that the incriminated phrase had a meaning
altogether favorable to France ; it threw light on the com-
munications made to Catholic Governments; it specified
that, in protesting, the Holy See had not intended to offend
or threaten the French Government in any way, but sinrply
to protect its own rights, which might have been compro*
mtsed by ^tence, and to prevent M. Loubet's visit from
being taken as a precedent ; it concluded by expressing the
hope that, after these friendly explanations, th^ relation^
between the Holy See and the French Government would
remain unaltered.
Two hours elapsed after the conversation with M. Nisard,
and as no communication came, the Cardinal made known
to the Ambassador that he was at his service with the
answer. But the written questions were not presented. The
following day, May 21, the Ambassador again called on
the Cardinal Secretary of State to say that what he had
apprehended had actually come to pass, z^>., that the re-
quest to have the questions made out in writing had been
taken by his Government as a pretext for eluding them!
. . . And that he had been ordered to take a leave of
absence, adding that this leave meant neither the rupture,
interruption, nor suspension of diplomatic relations between
the Holy See and the French Government. He next pre-
sented M. de Courcel as temporary Chargi d^ Affaires, an-
nouncing that in two days M. de Navenne, titular Chargi
d' Affaires^ would arrive in Rome. During the parliamentary
discussion of May 28, in the French Chamber, a character
and meaning were given to the departure of M. Nisai^d
much more serious than that of a simple leave of absence.
The Holy See received no official communication from the
representative of France save the foregoing.
The first decisive step toward separation had been taken:
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766 THE RELIGIOUS SITUATION IN FRANCE [Sept,
the French Ambassador had left the Vatican. M. Loubet's
visit had already borne all the fruit hoped for by the Masons.*
The final rupture was close at hand and M. Combes seized
upon the cases of the Bishops of Laval and Dijon as a pre-
text for it.
The case of the Bishops of Laval and Dijon was of a most
delicate nature and we shall therefore discuss it with due discre-
tion, always referring to the papal documents in the White Book.
Mgr. Geay, Bishop of Laval, was, almost from the beginning
of his episcopate, the object before the Holy See of grave
accusations of an exclusively ecclesiastical nature, and altogether
foreign to the political and religious questions agitating France.
An investigation had been begun, and the accusations were
such that the Holy Father felt compelled to counsel the said
bishop, by the intermediary of the Sacred Congregation of the
Holy Office (in a letter dated January 26, 1900), to resign his
diocese. By following this course Mgr. Geay would have
avoided for himself, and would have spared the Holy See, the
unpleasantness of a trial and of the scandals which would prob-
ably ensue. On the other hand, he could have preserved his
good name by giving some plausible reason for his resignation.
The bishop at first accepted this advice (see his letter of
February 2, 1900); but immediately after, he demanded, as the
condition of his withdrawal, appointment to another diocese, even
if it were the last in France, as he expressed it. As the charges
against Mgr. Geay did not arise from local or external diffi-
culties, but were private and personal, the Holy See would not
accept such a condition.
Because of the patience which characterizes the Church, and
also because of the hope that the future would cause the past to
be forgotten, the Holy See temporized for more than four years.
But the postponement and the hope were in vain. On the con-
trary, the accusations assumed such a character that any further
delay became impossible. The arrival of Mgr. Geay in Rome,
in 19CX), and the brief stay he made there, which did not per-
mit the Holy See to proceed to a formal trial, did not dimin-
ish the gravity of these accusations. Hence the same Congre-
* At the Etienne Dolet Lodge in Orleans. April, 1904, one of the dignitaries of the Grand
Orient, F Level, a member of the council of the Order, spoke as follows : " We should
be able to foresee the consequence of this visit of the Head of the State to Rome : the separ-
ation of the Church and the State. . . . The Lodges of the Grand Orient may justly
claim their share in bringing about such a result, as they have powerfully contributed to it."
Quoted by M. Jean Guiraud. O/. cit, P. 23.
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I9C6.] THE RELIGIOUS SITUATION IN FRANCE 767
gation of the Holy Office, by order of the Holy Father, wrote
again, and in the same sense, on May 17, 1904, repeating the
counsel already given, and adding that, if within a month Mgr.
Geay had not resigned his diocese, the Sacred Congregation
would be constrained to push matters further, in accordance
with the prescriptions of Canon Law.
Up to this time the matter had rested exclusively with the
Holy See and the Bishop of Laval ; but, appealing to the
Organic Articles which prohibited direct relations between the
Pope and the French Bishops,* Mgr. Geay communicated to the
Government the letter addressed to him by the Holy Office.
The Minister of Foreign AflFairs protested, and the Chargi
a^Afiaires of France at Rome demanded the annulment of this
letter of May 17, 1904, taking it for granted that the Sacred
Congregation intended to depose the Bishop without entering
into a previous understanding with the Minister of Worship.f.
Then followed an exchange of explanations, which the
French Government succeeded in making particularly tedious,
and which Mgr. ^eay's hesitation caused to. pass through many
contradictory phases. M. Combes hoped that the Bishop of
Laval would persevere in resisting the Pope by refusing to
appear in Rome ; but the Bishop of Laval heard and heeded
the call of duty and, after being received by Pius X, tendered
his resignation.
The case of Mgr. Le Nordez, Bishop of Dijon, came up si-
multaneously with that of the Bishop of Laval, and was very
similar to it.
Mgr. Le Nordez had been summoned to Rome to explain
• The Holy See never agreed to acknowledge the Organic Articles, which the French
Government claimed to be the corollary of the Concordat.
t The Holy See was unquestionably right in proceeding as it did : this was conceded even
by the enemies ot the Church. For instance, it was thus that M. Cldmenceau wrote in his
paper, VAurore, of July 21, 1904: " What is more conformable to the nature of things than
that the Pope should have the right of religious discipline over his bishops ? If a bishop cele-
brates Mass under an irregularity, it certainly is not within M. Combes' province to reprimand
him. The Bishops of Laval and Dijon might be the best men in the world and yet be failures
as bishops. Whence could the Chief Executive of the French Republic derive the dogmadc
authority indispensable in- order to pronounce in the matter? ' I have exercised my power of
religious discipline,' says the Pope. ' and, no matter what happens, I shall continue to exercise
this primary prerogative of my ministry.* Conscientiously then," continues M. Cl^menceau,
" I cannot blame him." Another anti-Catholic, M. Beauquier, Deputy from Doubs, wrote in
V Action: •' No one could seriously dispute the power of the Head of the Church to discipline
bishops and to punish or depose them should they be guilty of grave misdemeanors or openly
profess heresy. Neither M. Combes nor M. Dumay, Officer of Worship, can claim the right,
either from a dogmatic or moral point of view, to constitute himself a censor of the episco-
pacy."
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768 THE RELIGIOUS SITUATION IN FRANCE [Sept.
certain serious charges made against him. In February, 1904,
the seminarians of Dijon refused to receive Holy Orders at his
hands, and some weeks later the Christian families of several
parishes refused to allow him to confirm their children.
Like Mgr. Geay, Mgr. Le Nordez thought he should com-
municate to the French Government the letters he liad re-
ceived from the Holy See summoning him to Rome, and, like
Mgr. Geay, he was formally forbidden by M. Combes to leave
his diocese. He hesitated between the prohibition of the French
Government and the summons in due legal form, under pen-
alty of suspension, laice sententi<B ab exercitio ordinis et juris-
dictioniSf served by the Cardinal Secretary of State; but final-
ly, like Mgn Geay, he performed his duty as a Catholic
bishop, went to Rome and tendered his resignation.
Thus was the Holy See spared the grief of seeing two
French bishops persevere in their culpable resistance; but the
French Government made this conflict the occasion of break-
idg definitively with the Pope.
On July 30, 1904, the French Chargi d'Affaires sent the
following note to the Cardinal Secretary of State ;
After calling attention on several occasions to the in-
fringement of the rights of the State under the Concordat,
by the action of the Holy See in dealing directly with the
French Bishops, the Government of the Republic has by
two notes, under date of the 23d of the current month of
July, forewarned the Holy See of the conclusions which it
would be obliged to draw from the persistent ignoring of
these rights. Concluding from the reply of the Cardinal
Secretary of State, dated the 26th of the current month of
July, that the Holy See stands by the action taken without
the knowledge of the Power with which it signed the Con-
cordat, the Government of the Republic has decided to put
an end to the official relations which, according to the will
of the Holy See, are now without object.
In a note of the same date, M. Delcass^ informed Mgr.
Lorenzelli that his mission of Nuncio-Apostolic was considered
at an end.
M. Combes had thus attained his object: official France
was in open rupture with the Holy See, and it would now be
possible to bring about the separation of Church and State.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
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THE SHADOW PORTRAIT.
BY MARY CATHERINE CROWLEY.
^OME one has said, "the real heart of New York
is the section between Fourteenth and Fortieth
Streets." Here are to be found the people who
write our dramas, who make our songs, to whose
wit we owe many bits of humor that brighten
moments of our days, whose brains invent many of the ideas
that other men utilize. Here are the haunts of the artists, the
musicians, the literary workers, the journalists of the metropolis,
and on the part of Broadway that forms the chief artery of
this district one may frequently encounter men and women with
whose names fan^e has conjured the world over.
In a wide, red- brick house at one extreme verge of this re-
presentative area, namely, the lower side of Washington Square,
Maxwell Norton, the portrait painter, chose to erect his Lares
and Penates.
He might, indeed, have selected more imposing quarters at
the Beaux Arts^ further uptown, and also facing a pleasant park
— for success had rewarded his patient endeavor, and there was
a respectful saying among younger votaries of the palette and
brush that for years Norton had not been "hard up" — but to
the quiet, seli-contained man of middle age, there was an en-
chantment about " the Square." There on its northern border,
almost within the shade of the new Washington Arch, stand
the mansions, ivy-crowned, as if by the traditions of half a
century, to which still cling the descendants of the prosper-
ous merchants who built them ; two blocks sacred to exclusive-
ness and fashion. On the east loom up the hoary walls of the
old University. And here, to the west and south, lies Bohemia,
happy-go-lucky Bohemia, a colony of toilers with brain, pencil,
baton, and pen, who in tarn are being fast crowded out by the
children of sunny Italy. Once a dreary " Potter's field," the
Square was soon claimed by wealth, the paupers being left in
situ, while under the graceful elms and along the walks be-
VOL. LXXXIII. — 49
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770 THE Shadow Portrait [Sept.,
tween the green lawns, strolled the gallants and belles of the
town, in days long before the trolley cars, that now incessantly
clang by on Fourth Street, were foreshadowed in the minds
of the modern electrician.
It pleased Norton to paint mentally the portraits of the
youth and beauty of the past who thus haunted the place, un-
seen save by his artist fancy. But he loved also to sit here
during a fair afternoon, or in the lingering light of a summer
evening, making sketches ot the life around him, the failures
and waifs and strays of humanity who lounged upon the
benches ; the black-haired, bonnetless Italian women, sturdy and
Juno-like, who walked through the park with babies in their
arms or clinging to their skirts; the swart- skinned men, Sicil-
ians, Neopolitans, Piedmontese, who chattered and frolicked like
school-boys; the dark-eyed urchins playing in the fountain as
though it were the de Trevi of Rome; the little girls, mother-
ing their rag- puppets, even as the ''eternal feminine" ever
seeks something upon which to lavish love and tenderness. As
for Norton's abiding place, if in the glare of. day the somewhat
shabby exterior showed that it had fallen from its high estate,
not so the studio — the old-time drawing-room. It had, at least,
lost nothing of its spaciousness. The great mirrors still adorned
the walls ; from the ceiling hung the antique crystal chandeliers,
through which at night the gaslight shone with a soft radiance,
while by day their many prisms sparkled like mammoth clus-
ters of jewels. No/ton had gathered together some well-nigh
priceless things. Among the rugs that covered the floor were
one or two that a millionaire collector might have envied ; the
small tapestry opposite to the door was of the period of the
Italian renaissance ; the porcelains and the few pieces of armor
were worth their weight in gold. But, above and more precious
than all these treasures, the studio possessed that desideratum
of the painter, a splendid north light. Here, then, was an in-
spiring nook wherein to paint, and here Norton lived, a tran-
quil, industrious existence, breakfasting before he rose, accord-
ing to the European custom, lunching and dining at a caf6
where his confrires cengregated, and, at home, being served by
his Hindu servant, Absalam, with a solicitude akin to that
wherewith a mother watches over her first-bom.
It was an afternooq in October, when the trees of the
Square were in the full splendor of their crimson and golden
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I906.] THE SHADOW PORTRAIT 771
glory, that a hansom cab stopped in the street on the south
side. A young woman alighted from the cab and, after a short
search up and down the block, made her way to the studio.
She was closely followed by a typical negro mammy, who evi-
dently acted in lieu of a chaperon.
Absalam answered the light tap on the door and reported
to his master. Norton laid aside his palette, told the model
she might rest — at this hour he had no regular sitting — and,
with a regretful glance at the ideal picture of " Coquetry *' upon
his easel, came forward, brush in hand.
" Mr. Norton," said the girl, advancing into the room with
an ease of manner that at once settled her social status in his
mind, "I hope my call is not inopportune."
After a second glance at her face the artist amiably ac-
cepted the interruption. " N — no " ; he said, nevertheless with
some hesitation.
" I am Elizabeth Van Ruy ter, the daughter of Frederic
Van Ruyter," she continued, taking the chair Absalam placed
for her, while the imperturbable Mammy stood on guard be-
hind it, '^and I have come to ask you to paint my por-
trait."
The name was that of a well- known banker. Norton smiled.
No one's face was ever more changed by a smile than Nor-
ton's. When serious, he appeared cold and reserved, but whea
his features grew animated and his steel-gray eyes lighted up,
either with pleasure or friendliness, he became like one who
invited confidence and who could be trusted.
"You see, I am going to be married," Miss Van Buy ter
chatted on naively — she was very young, after all — " and I wish
to hang the portrait in the dining-room at home, so that fa-
ther will not be quite so lonesome when I am gone. He has
been both father and mother to me, for I lost my mother
when I was a child." Her voice trembled and she turned away
her head.
Norton found himself wondering why a woman so often
sheds tears when she is happy.
"Yes, I see"; he said gently. "When would you like to
begin the sittings ? "
"Now, if you wish."
He glanced at her rich gown and shook his head. " Come
tOrmorrow morning; the light will then be at its best — and —
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772 THE Shadow Portrait [Sept,
eh — wear something simple, a little home frock in which your
father has often seen you."
She nodded and went away; the old negress attending her
with the air of a princess.
*' Yes, yes ; Norton paints charming portraits of women,"
admitted Tom Morley, Elizabeth's fianc^ that evening, when
she told him where she had been. ''He is a fine fellow, too,
and a gentleman ; but eccentric, as, no doubt, you will soon
notice. It is said he has never recovered from his grief over
the death of his wife, although it happened years ago.*'
The next day the sittings began.
Mammy, of course, accompanied her "little Missy" to the
studio.
*' Lors a massy, ef it ain't a queer chiny shop, wif sarpents,
an' fishes, an' strange folk a-lookin' out from de bowls an'
jugs," she commented in a whispered aside to the young lady.
"But, Lawdee, ef de queerest sight o' all ain't dat fool niggtr
wif de tea-cosey on his haid an' breeches big enuff for two
o' his size ! "
Nor could she ever be persuaded that the turbanned East
Indian was other than "jest an 'onary black man."
Absalam, a waif from the St. Louis exposition, returned
her aversion with an oriental scorn, which any one but a com-
fortable " colored pusson " of adipose and assertiveness would
have found withering. Mammy, however, only chuckled over
it to herself until her fat sides shook, and often, while Norton
painted, bis eyes twinkled with amusement as, straying from
his pretty sitter, they noted the little comedy enacted in the
background by the serio-comic representatives of the African
and the Aryan races.
Although so pleasing to look at. Miss Van Ruyter could
not be called a beauty. Her features, though fairly good, were
irregular. The fascination of her face consisted in a certain
sweetness of expression that reflected a charming personality.
She moved in the world of society, yet was not of it; she had
been educated in a convent, and her tastes were simple. Natu-
rally cheerful, at times even vivacious, she was also very con-
scientious and unaffectedly devout. During the hours when
she sat for her portrait, she bad many people and things to
think about — her father, her lover, the care-free life of her
girlhood, the new sphere of duty of which her wedding-day
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i9o6.] The Shadow Portrait 773
would be the threshold. And sometimes, too, soaring higher, '
her thoughts, perhaps, dwelt upon '* the beauty of things un-
seen."
On the occasions of the sitting, however, she was not al-
ways silent or absorbed ; she liked to talk to Norton, and they
became friends. He was as old as her father; frequently there
was something paternal in his tone as he conversed with her.
Of the eccentricity of which Tom Morley had spoken, Eliza-
beth saw no sign for several weeks. By December the por-
trait was nearly finished.
One morning Miss Van Ruyter came to the studio unex-
pectedly. After sending Mr. Norton word that she could not
give htm a sitting, she had suddenly changed her mind. It
was a ''gray day," and Nortgn was at work without sitter or
model. As Elizabeth entered the room, he hastily drew a cur-
tain half way across his canvas, but, upon recognizing his visi-
tor, and, as if on second thought, as quickly pushed it back
again. Absalam had disappeared. Mammy took her accus-
tomed place on the corner settle. The artist had discovered
long ago that she could not see well without the spectacles
she was too amusingly vain to wear, and that she was also a
little deaf.
" I was able to come after all," began Miss Van Ruyter
cheerily. Then she broke off with a little cry of admiration as
her eyes fell upon the picture on the painter's easel. Norton
again started forward as if to cover it ; but, deterred this time
perhaps by her interest, he again drew back, and Elizabeth
noticed that he sighed, as if involuntarily. The picture was
the portrait of a woman, no longer young, but still beautiful.
Clear, frank, and true the dark eyes looked from the canvas
into the girl's very heart, yet in them there seemed the mys-
tery of an infinite longing, as of a spirit not quite at peace.
The lovely mouth was so sweet, however, that Elizabeth wished
she could kiss it, as she had often wished she might caress
her mother, whom she had scarcely known. The hair, once
brown, — as could be seen — was now touched with silver. The
face was still a perfect oval; but over the speaking eyes, and
the broad, low forehead, time had passed a gentle hand. About
the sweet mouth, too, were lines that, to herself, Elizabeth
called, not wrinkles, but " the record of many smiles."
" Miss Van Ruyter, you have unintentionally learnt my se-
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774 THE SHADOW PORTRAIT [Sept.,
cret/' said Norton as, enthralled, she continued to gaze upon
the canvas. " This is the portrait of my wife, Marie, who died
twenty years ago, when she was about your age, I should
judge. You are surprised. I know the question you would
like to ask. This is not, you would say, the face of a young
woman. Dear child, you have a nature that glows with hu-
man kindliness; you are simpdtica^ as my neighbors around
the corner in Little Italy say."
'* When my wife was taken from me, my grief was so great
that it threatened my reason. When I grew calmer, I resolved
to keep her likeness With me all the time. In order to do
this I decided that year by year I would change her portrait
so that we might grow old together. In this way, at least, I
hoped to keep her with me. Always, on the anniversary of
our wedding day, I have altered the lines of this dear face,
adding what I thought would make the difference of one year.
There have been many anniversaries, and many changes of the
portrait, until you see here a fading woman, ' a rose of yester-
day.' Yet, had time done his worst, she would still have re-
mained beautiful. Is it not so ? "
'' The portrait is exquisite," declared Elizabeth with enthu-
siasm. " And, dear friend, I feel, I know what a consolation
it must have been to you to try to keep even this shadow of
her with you. Nevertheless" — Elizabeth hesitated, and then
went on, impelled by the eagerness of her thought — " have you
not sometimes felt also regret that, in altering the portrait you
lost the likeness of your wife as she appeared in all the charm
of her youth and the perfection of her beauty ? Does not
death lose something of its victory, when we reflect that the
dear ones who have been called away remain forever young,
that old age, or sorrow, or the cares of the world can never
touch them ? "
" You mistake me," said Norton quietly, '' I would as soon
have taken my own life as destroy the likeness of my dearest
Marie as she was when she became my wife." Opening a
drawer of the Chinese cabinet, he took from it a miniature and
placed it in Elizabeth's hand. His visible emotion cast a spell
upon her. She glanced alternately from the little painting on
ivory, to the portrait in oils. The artist, feeling that she un-
derstood him, proceeded to take a packet of sketches in color
from the cabinet, and spread them out before her on the divan.
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i9o6.] The Shadow Portrait 775
They represented every year of the shadow life which had be-
come so real to him. Beginning with the miniature of the bride,
they were like; a series of medallions that terminated in the
picture on the easel, linking together the past and the present
in one continuous chain. Or, like the beads of a rosary, be-
ginning with the cross, they came back to the cross again.
" Oh, they are all beautiful," Elizabeth murmured, half to
herself, " and only the mind of a true artist could have con-
ceived the thought of thus portraying a life as it might have
been."
Norton gathered up the sketches and replaced them, with
the miniature, in the drawer. Elizabeth had returned to the
contemplation of the large portrait, which combined the ex-
cellences of all the others.
" I painted it for no other eyes than my own, but into it
I have put my best work," said the artist. " And yet — and
yet — Miss Van Ruyter, whenever I study this portrait, I am
haunted by the fancy that it lacks something, that in some
point I have failed. Yes; there was ah indescribable charm,
a dominant characteristic of my wife's personality, that I have
been unable to interpret or portray. Whenever I even think
of the picture I am uneasily conscious that, after all, it is not
herself as she would have been had she lived. At such times,
in my despondency and disappointment, I am often tempted
to slash the canvas into shreds."
''Oh, no, no; never commit such an act of reckless van-
dalism," protested Elizabeth in alarm. "If you had done no
other work than this, Mr. Norton, you would still be acknowl-
edged a great artist."
Her appreciation pleased him. '' Thank you " \ he said
simply, and then went on: "But the most singular part of it
all. Miss Van Ruyter, is that the illusive quality I have missed
in the portrayal of my dear wife, I imagine I find in you.
Or is it imagination? During the hours when you sit for
your portrait, when you are present here bodily — apparently
idle, yet occupied with your own thoughts and often in spirit
far away, while I paint and watch you, striving to interpret
your inner self, this being always the aim of the true portrait
painter — at such times I see in your face the expression that
is lacking in the pictured face of my wife, the charm I have
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776 THE SHADOW PORTRAIT [Sept,
failed to grasp. Perhaps you can tell me what it is?" His
delicate hand swept across his brow and over his gray hair
with a gesture of discouragement, and, turning away, he began
to pace up and down.
For a few moments Elizabeth stood .silently studying the
dream picture, thinking of the painter and of this woman
whom he had so loved, whom he so loved still, although she
had been dead for nearly a quarter of a century. The girl
had had little experience beyond her two short seasons in
society. And what are the pleasures or jealousies of the social
whirl but the froth of the nectar, or of the bitter draught, of
life ? She knew, however, that Norton was a man of the world.
Tom Morley said he was a good man, as men of the world
go. Norton had told her once that, like herself, he and his
wife were Catholics — adding, with a light laugh and a shrug
of the shoulders: "But you know, we painter- fellows are a
careless set, and so now I am not much of anything."
It must be admitted that Miss Van Ruyter knew as little
of art as she did of life. The chatter of the critic and the
dilettante anent technique and brush work, tones, values, and
motifs was all as Greek to her. Nevertheless, together with a
feminine perception of character, she possessed the artistic
temperament ; she loved pictures and felt their beauty. So now,
as she scrutinized the canvas on the easel, the truth came to
her.
Norton, arresting his impatient stride, paused at her elbow.
''Well, what does the portrait lack?" he inquiicd in a tone
that was half a demand, half an entreaty.
She answered slowly, absently, almost to herself, and as if
only following out her own thought: " The fault lies — I think
— ah, I know, it is simply this — The woman in the picture has
forgotten how to pray.**
Norton, dazed, stared at her. Then his eyes searched the
portrait, as though it possessed a soul into whose depths he
sought to look. •* My God, child, you are right ! " he cried
unnerved.
Going to a window, he glanced out without seeing any-
thing. But the light borne in upon him by the young girl's
involuntarily scathing criticism, drew him back. "Yes, Miss
Van Ruyter, you are right," he repeated, as his gaze again
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i9o6.] THE Shadow Portrait 777
riveted itself upon the beautiful face he had attempted to save
from oblivion. "This woman has forgotten how to pray. And
my wife, thank God, would never have forgotten. It is I who
did not remember; and, therefore, the shadow-life I sought to
win her to share with me was the idlest of dreams. My ideal
fell short of the reality. Had she lived, she would have been
more beautiful than I have painted her; had she lived, I would
have been a different and a better man."
He flung himself into a chair, folded his arms, and dropped
his head upon his breast. So he might have portrayed "Re-
morse," or "Vain Regret."
There was a tense silence. Elizabeth hesitated, perplexed
and distressed. After a moment, however, she crossed the
room swiftly, and her kind hand touched his arm. " Mr.
Norton, you will yet make the picture a true portrait of your
beautiful wife," she said in a voice that thrilled with womanly
sympathy. "And — and — you know, while we live, it is never
too late for us to become better than we are."
Then, signalling to Mammy, who, forgotten, had watched
the little drama in stupid wonderment, Miss Van Ruyter went
quietly out of the studio.
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RICHARD THE THIRD.
BY A. W. CORPE.
HE career of Richard the Third is a striking il-
lustration of ''vaulting ambition/' which, in his
case as well as in that of Macbeth, o'erleaps it-
self. Widely differing as well in person as in
disposition, it is interesting to trace the steps
by which they each attain the object of their desire; how,
when attained, it brings no content; and how, in the end, it
costs each his life. As the plays dealing with Richard are
considerably earlier in date than that of Macbeth, it is conven-
ient to consider them first. Our first introduction to Richard
occurs in the third part of " Henry VI." — a play which, if not
entirely Shakespeare's, has certainly passed under his hand.
Richard does, indeed, make his appearance in the second part
of the play, but only to say a few words.
The weak son of Falstaff's Prince Hal is on the throne;
the Yorkist taction is represented by Richard, Duke of York,
of whose sons our subject Richard, afterwards Duke of Glou-
cester, and ultimately King, is the youngest, the others being
Edward, afterwards King, Edmund, afterwards Earl of Rutland,
and George, afterwards Duke of Clarence.
Warwick, the king- maker, had spoken:
I'll plant Plantagenet, root him up, who dares:
Resolve thee, Richard; claim the English crown.
Henry entreats:
My lord of Warwick, hear me but one word:
Let me for this my life-time reign as King.
And York replies :
Confirm the crown to me and to mine heirs,
And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou livest.
Henry proceeds:
There entail
The crown to thee and to thine heirs forever;
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i9o6.] Richard the Third 779
Conditionally, that here thou take an oath
To cease this civil war, and, whilst I live,
To honor me as thy king and sovereign ;
And neither by treason nor hostility
To seek to put me down and reign thyself.
And York replies:
This oath I willingly take, and will perform.
The action commences with a disputation between Edward
and Richard. The Duke of York enters and Richard explains
that it is
About that which concerns your grace and us:
The Crown of England, father, which is yours.
York replies:
Mine, boy? Not till King Henry be dead.
Richard answers:
Your right depends not on his life or death.
And Edward adds:
Now you are heir, therefore enjoy it now :
By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe.
It will outrace you, father, in the end.
And York says:
I took an oath that he should quietly reign,
Edward urges :
But for a kingdom any oath may be broken :
rd break a thousand oaths to reign one year.
To Richard's protest:
No; God forbid your grace should be forsworn,
York answers :
I shall be, if I claim by open war.
But Richard replies:
ril prove the contrary,
and proceeds to adduce the usual arguments provided for such
cases; and concludes with the consideration of a more per-
sonal kind :
Father, do but think
How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown;
Within whose circuit is Elysium
And all that poets feign of bliss and joy.
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78o RICHARD THE THIRD [Sept.,
Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest
Until the white rose that I wear be dyed
Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart.
York does not require much persuasion :
Richard, enough ; I will be king, or die.
The War of The Roses is begun : a battle is fought at
Wakefield, where the Yorkists, who were very inferior in
strength, lost the day. Rutland is brutally slain by "butcher"
CliflFord :
Ah! gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword.
And not with such a cruel threat'ning look.
York is taken prisoner, and, after ignominious treatment by
Queen Margaret, stabbed to death by her and Clifford.
The contrast between the attitudes of Edward and Richard,
on hearing of their father's death, is significant. Edward says :
Sweet Duke of York, our prop to lean upon,
Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay.
Never, oh ! never, shall I see more joy.
Richard^ on the other hand:
I cannot weep; for all my body's moisture
Scarce serves to que^nch my furnace-burning heart:
Tears, then, for babes; blows and revenge for me!
Richard, I bear thy name; I'll venge thy death;
Or die renowned by attempting it.
The fortune of war soon proves more favorable to the York-
ists, and Edward is crowned King in London. Warwick had
designed that Edward should marry Bona, the sister of Lewis,
and has proceeded to France to arrange for the union. Much
to his dissatisfaction, however, Edward has seen and fallen in
love with Elizabeth Woodville, then the widow of Sir George
Grey.
Warwick, after his interview with Lewis, says:
I came from Edward as ambassador.
But I return his sworn and mortal foe.
A casual word of Edwards leads Richard to say ironically:
Ay ! Edward will use women honorably.
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I906.] RICHARD THE THIRD 78 1
And tbeiii soliloquising, he continues:
Would he were wasted, marrow, bones, and all,
That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring,
To cross me from the golden time I look fori
And yet, between my soul's desire and me —
The lustful Edward's title buried —
Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward,
And all the unlook'd for issue of their bodies.
To take their rooms, e'er I can place myself;
A cold premeditation for my purpose !
Why, then, I do but dream on sovereignty;
Like one that stands upon a promontory.
And spies a far-off shore where he would tread,
Wishing his foot were equal with his eye,
And chides the sea that sunders him from thence,
Saying, he'll lade it dry to have his way:
So do I wish the crown, being so far off;
And so I chide the means that keep me from it;
And so I say, I'll cut the causes off,
Flattering me with impossibilities.
Well, say there is no kingdom, then, for Richard;
What other pleasure can the world afford ?
I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap,
And deck my body in gay ornaments.
And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks.
O miserable thought! and more unlikely
Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns!
Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb:
And, for I should not deal in her soft laws,
She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe
To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub;
To make an envious mountain on my back.
Where sits deformity to mock my body;
To shape my legs of an unequal size;
To disproportion me in every part,
Like to a chaos, or an unlicked bear- whelp
That carries no impression like the dam.
And am I, then, a man to be beloved ?
O monstrous fault, to harbor such a thought 1
Then, since this earth affords no joy to me,
But to command, to check, lo o'erbear such
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782 RICHARD THE THIRD [Sept.,
As are of better person than myself,
I'll make my hearen to dream upon the crown;
And, whiles I live, to account this world but hell.
Until my misshap'd trunk that bears this head
Be round impaled with a glorious crown.
And yet I know not how to get the crown,
For many lives stand between me and home:
And I • . .
Torment myself to catch the English crown:
And from that torment I will free myself,
Or hew my way out with a bloody axe.
Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile —
a line which may remind us of Chaucer in his description of
the Temple of Mars : " The smyler with the knyf under his
cloke "—
And cry " Content " to that which grieves my heart.
And wet my cheek with artificial tears.
And frame my face to all occasions.
Can I do this, and cannot get a crown?
Tut 1 were it farther off, I'll pluck it down.
Richard's description of himself here closely follows Sir
Thomas More : '' Litle of stature, ill fetured of limmes, croke
backed, his left shoulder much higher than his right, hard fa-
voured of visage, and such as is in states called warlye, in
other menne otherwise; he was malicious, wrathfull, envious,
and from afore his birth ever frowarde."
Passing over intermediate events, mostly unfavorable to the
Lancastrians, we find Henry a prisoner in the Tower; War-
wick has been killed in the battle of Barnet, and after the
battle of Tewksbury, fought in the same year, Margaret is a
prisoner ; and Edward, the Prince of Wales, has been murdered
by the hands of King Edward, Richard, and Clarence. Henry,
not long afterwards, is found dead in the Tower. According
to the play, he is murdered by Gloucester. He says:
See how my sword weeps for the poor King's death !
O, may such purple tears be always shed
From those who wish the downfall of our house !
If any spark of life be yet remaining,
Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither.
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I906.] RICHARD THE THIRD 783
It is questionable bow far tbis account of tbe deatb of
Henry is bistorical, but tbere can be little doubt that Gloucester
had a hand in it. In the contemporary chronicle it is stated:
"The same nyght that Kynge Edwarde came to Londone,
Kynge Henry, beynge inwarde in presone in the Towre of
Londone, was putt to dethe, . . . beynge thenne at the
Towre, the Duke of Gloucestre, brothere to Kynge Edwarde,
and many other."
So far the play of Henry the Sixth ; we now come to
"The Tragedy of King Richard the Third," which is undoubt-
edly Shakespeare's. The scene opens with a soliloquy by Rich-
ard, in which, after commenting on the gaiety of the court,
he says:
But I, that am not shap'd for sportive tricks.
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely shap'd and want love's majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion.
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, uniinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up.
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them:
Why, I, . . .
. . . since I cannot prove a lover, . . .
I am determined to prove a villain
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous.
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams.
To set my brother Clarence and the King
In deadly hate the one against the other.
Presently Clarence enters, having been arrested by order
of Edward. Richard affects surprise, and lays the arrest on the
Queen, hinting at danger to himself:
We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe.
Your imprisonment shall not be long;
I will deliver you, or else lie for you ;
Meantime, have patience.
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784 Richard the Third [Sept.,
And then, as Clarence is led out.
Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return,
Simple, plain Clarence I I do love thee so,
That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,
If heaven will take the present at our hands.
News is brought of the King*s declining health. Richard
says:
O, he hath kept an evil diet long.
And over-much consumed his royal person;
Tis very grievous to be thought upon.
He cannot live, I hope; and must not die
Till George be pack'd with post-horse up to heaven.
......
Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy.
And leave the world for me to bustle in 1
For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter.
What though I kill'd her husband and her father?
The readiest way to make the wench amends
Is to become her husband and her father.
The spectacle of the funeral of King Henry, with Anne,
his widowed daughter in- law, as mourner, is now presented.
Richard stops the procession, and, after some remonstrance from
Anne, he proceeds to make his suit to her, to which, at last,
she listens. The courtship is conducted in such extraordinarily
headstrong and rapid fashion, that well may Richard say :
Was ever woman in this humor woo'd ?
Was ever woman in this humor won?
Lines which seem reminiscent of an earlier play, in which
Shakespeare may have had some hand.
What I I, that kill'd her husband and his father.
To take her in her heart's extremest hate.
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
The bleeding witness of her hatred by;
. • • • • •
And yet to win her, all the world to nothing !
Ha!
Hath she forgot already that brave prince.
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I906.] RICHARD THE THIRD 785
Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since,
Stabb'd in my angry mood at? Tewksbury ?
• •••••
My dukedom to a beggarly denier«
I do mistake my person all this while:
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,
Myself to be a marvelous proper man.
The lady, having yielded to Richard's importunity, the fu-
neral proceeds. The King's body, after resting at Whitefriars,
is conveyed to Chertsey Abbey for burial. Perhaps it was
with conscious irony that the body was afterwards conveyed
by Richard to Windsor, and placed beside that of Henry the
Fourth.
It is interesting to note that the hall of the Crosby Place,
mentioned in this scene, with its fine timber-work roof, is still
in existence. It was at Crosby Place, then in his possession,
that Sir Thomas More wrote his life of Richard the Third.
Presently we see Richard plotting the assassination of Clar-
ence: he finds cut-throats apt for the purpose.
Your eyes drop millstones, when fools' eyes drop tears;
I like you, lads.
This scene is followed by Clarence's description of his dream.
This is, of course, apart from the present purpose, but one
passage may be quoted, not only on account of its rare beauty,
but for its resemblance to certain passages in the Odyssey and
the i£neid. He has passed in imagination the melancholy
flood with the grim ferryman into the region of night:
The first that there did greet my stranger soul,
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick ;
Who cried aloud, " What scourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence ? "
And so he vanish'd: then came wand'ring by
A shadow like an angel, with bHght hair
Dabbled in blood; and he shriek'd out aloud,
" Clarence is come ; false, fleeting, perjur'd Clarence,
That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury ;
Seize on him. Furies, take him to your torments ! "
The murderers addressed themselves to their work ; one of
VOL. LXXXIII.— 50 •
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786 RICHARD THE THIRD [Sept.,
them develops qualms of conscience, which gives opportunity
for some passages of clownish wit : the speech about conscience
beginning: ''I'll not meddle with it; it is a dangerous thing;
it makes a man a coward," seems like a foretaste of FalstafiTs
famous tirade against honor. In the end, conscience notwith-
standing, Clarence is despatched. According to the play, Clar
ence is stabbed by the more obdurate of the villains, who says:
• • • If all this will not do,
ril drown thee in the malmsey-butt within.
The popular story of Clarence being drowned in a butt of
malmsey, though supported by the chronicles, is generally be-
lieved to be unhistorical.
The King, of whose illness we have been informed, feels
that his end is near. There have been contentions between
his adherents and the Queen's friends ; he is anxious to set all
at peace before his death. The Queen with her two sons, Dorset
and Grey, Rivers, Hastings, and Buckingham are assembled,,
and profess mutual amity. Gloucester enters and joins in :
A blessed labor, my most sovereign liege:
Among this princely heap, if any here.
By false intelligence, or wrong surmise.
Hold me a foe; if I unwittingly, or in my rage.
Have aught committed that is hardly borne
By any in this presence, I desire
To reconcile me to his friendly peace ;
'Tis death to me to be at enmity;
I hate it, and desire all good men's love.
First, madam, I entreat true peace of you.
Which I will purchase with my duteous service;
Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,
If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us;
Of you. Lord Rivers, and. Lord Grey, of you ;
That all without desert have frown'd on me;
Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen ; indeed, of all.
I do not know that Englishman alive
With whom my soul is any jot at odds
More than the infant that is bom to-night;
I thank my God for my humility.
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i9o6.] Richard the Third 787
The Queen intercedes for Clarence, and Gloucester bursts out:
Why, madam, have I oflFer'd love for this,
To be so flouted in this royal presence ?
Who knows not that the gentle Duke is dead ?
Rivers exclaims:
Who knows not he is dead ? Who knows he is ?
The King, too, cries out:
Is Clarence dead ? The order was reversed.
And Gloucester's ready lie makes it appear that Clarence
died by the King's warrant:
But he, poor soul, by your first order died.
The King dies, and Gloucester's first concern is to get pos-
session of the persons of the young princes, King Edward's two
sons. The elder, Edward, is at Ludlow, and Buckingham sug-
gests he should be brought up to London, with a small atten-
dance only, for his coronation. Hastings and Rivers, on con-
sideration, concur. Buckingham says to Gloucester:
Whoever journeys to the prince
For God's sake, let not us two be behind.
and he proceeds to explain, how he will find means to part the
Queen's adherents from the ptince. Gloucester exclaims:
My other self, my counsel's consistory.
My oracle, my prophet ! My dear cousin,
I, as a child, will go by thy direction.
And accordingly they make for Ludlow. We next hear that
Rivers and Grey are seized by order of Gloucester and Buck-
ingham, and committed to Pomfret Castle. Shortly afterwards
we hear they have been executed. Arrived in London, the
young prince meets his brother, who, at the instance of Glou-
cester, has left Sanctuary, whither the Queen had betaken him
and herself; and, not without some reluctance on their part,
the young princes are lodged in the Tower, as a suitable abode
pending the coronation.
Gloucester next instructs Catesby to sound Hastings as to
his pretension to the crown, and on Buckingham interposing to
ask what should they do if Hastings should not prove favorable,
Gloucester says characteristically :
Chop off his head, man.
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788 RICHARD THE THIRD [Sept.
He then proceeds to attach Buckingham to his side:
Look, when I am King, claim thou of me
The Earldom of Hereford, and the moveables
Whereof the King, my brother, stood possessed.
Hastings, proving unassailable, is promptly arrested upon
an absurd charge of witchcraft, and, soon after, executed.
The scene in which Gloucester and Buckingham appear
upon the Tower walls, " in rusty armor, marvelous ill-favored,"
pretending that they are in danger from a conspiracy of Hast-
ings and others, is taken, even to the detail of their garb, from
the Chronicle. The ruse seems to have been but indifferently
received. Gloucester instructs Buckingham to follow the Lord
Mayor, and suggests '''the bastardy of Edward's " children, and
endeavors to raise a cry in his favor, but the citizens remain
silent.
Gloucester goes through a pretence of being engaged in
devotions with two bishops at Baynard's Castle, when Buck-
ingham affects to beg Gloucester to accept the crown, while he
affects to refuse it.
Alas, why should you heap these cares on me?
I am unfit for state and majesty:
I do beseech you, take it not amiss;
I cannot nor I will not yield to you.
At last he pretends to be persuaded:
Since you will buckle fortune on my back.
To bear her burden, whether I will or no,
I must have patience to endure the load:
For God he knows, and you may partly see,
How far I am from the desire of this.
Whereupon Buckingham salutes him as King, and proposes
the next day for his coronation, which, as appears from the
stage directions, accordingly takes place.
Richard, considering how he may best contrive the death
of the young princes, proceeds to "play the touch" on Buck-
ingham, to try if he is to be trusted.
K. Rich, Young Edward lives; think now, what I would say.
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I906.] RICHARD THE THIRD 789
Buck, Say on, my loving lord.
K. Rich, Why, Buckingham, I say, I would be King.
Buck, Why, so you are, my thrice- renowned liege.
K. Rich, Ha! am I King? 'tis so: but Edward lives.
Buck. True, noble prince.
AT. Rich, O bitter consequence
That Edward still should live ! '* true noble Prince I "
Cousin, thou wert not wont to be so dull:
Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead;
And I would have it suddenly performed.
What sayst thou now? speak suddenly; be brief.
Buckingham says :
Your Grace may do your pleasure,
and asks some little pause for answer, and retires.
Left to himself, Richard soliloquises:
The deep-revolving witty Buckingham
No more shall be the neighbor to my counsel:
Hath he so long held on with me untir'd,
And stops he now for breath ? Well, be it so.
Richard next directs Catesby to give out that Anne, his
wife, is ill and dying. He had said, when she had consented
to marry him :
I'll take her; but I will not keep her long.
He soliloquises:
I must be married to my brother's daughter.
Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass.
Murder her brothers, and then marry her !
Uncertain way of gain ! But I am in
So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin:
Tear- falling pity dwells not in this eye.
Buckingham returns, prepared apparently to concur in Rich-
ard's designs, when the latter puts him off with other matter.
Buckingham then claims the. gift promised him, of the Earl-
dom of Hereford. Richard continues to put him off, and he
to urge his request. Richard breaks in:
Well, but what's o'clock?
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79b RICHARD THE THIRD [Sept.,
Buck. Upon the stroke of ten.
K. Rich. Well, let it strike.
Buck. Why let it strike?
K. Rich. Because that, like a Jack, thou keepst the stroke.
Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.
I am not in the giving vein to-day.
And Richard leaves him. Buckingham reflects :
Is it even so ? Repays he my true service
With such contempt ? Made I him King for this ?
O, let me think on Hastings, and be gone
To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on.
Richard has found a creature fit for his purpose in Sir
James Tyrrel, who subornes villains to murder the princes.
The tyrranous and bloody deed is done,
and Tyrrel carries the news to Richard, who now reviews his
position :
The son of Clarence have I pent up close;
His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage;
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom;
And Anne, my wife, has bid this world good-night
Now, for I know the Bretagne Richmond aims
At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter.
And, by that knot, looks proudly on the crown;
To her I go, a jolly, thriving wooer.
The wooing is conducted between Richard and Queen Eliz-
abeth with the same audacity and speed as in the case of Lady
Anne, and with the same result; the Queen yields, and prom-
ises to be the attorney of his love to her daughter.
Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman,
says he as she leaves.
Richard's dream of Elysium is drawing to a close: Rich-
mond is on the sea, expecting the aid of Buckingham in
Wales ; Stanley is cold and would revolt but that Richard
holds his son as hostage; others are up in arms in different
parts of England ; Buckingham's force, indeed, is dispersed and
himself, being taken prisoner, is led to execution.
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i9o6.] Richard the Third 791
Richmond has landed at Milford; the armies meet at Bos-
worth. Before the battle, the stage presents the tents of Rich-
ard and Richmond; the ghosts of Henry the Sixth, Clarence,
Hastings, the two princes, Anne, Buckingham, and others ap-
pear and breathe words of confidence to Richmond, and of
despair to Richard.
The King starts up out of sleep:
Give me another horse! — bind up my wounds.
Have mercy, Jesu!— Soft! I did but dream.
coward conscience, how thou dost afflict me!
• •••••
Methought the souls of all that I had murder'd
Came to my tent; and every one did thi*eat
To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard.
With the morning the forces are set in array, and here, at
last, we may feel some admiration for Richard's desperate
courage.
A thousand hearts are great within my bosom;
Advance our standards, set upon our foes;
Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George,
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons !
Upon them! Victory sits on our helms.
His horse is killed under him and he fights on foot:
A horse ! a horse 1 my kingdom for a horse !
Catesby begs him to retire.
Slave, I have set my life upon a cast.
And I will stand the hazard of the die !
1 think there be six Richmonds in the field ;
Five have I slain instead of him.
A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!
In the battle Richmond is victorious and Richard is slain.
** From Shakespeare's delineation of Richard," says Drake,
*■ Milton must have caught many of the most striking features
of his Satanic portrait: The same union of unmitigated de-
pravity and consummate intellectual energy characterizes both,
and renders what would otherwise be loathsome and disgust-
ing, an object of sublimity and shuddering admiration."
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PHILIP, DUKE OF WHARTON.
BY WILLIAM F. DENNEHY.
A tyrant to the wife his heart approved,
A traitor to the very king he loved. — Pope.
JROBABLY one of the most remarkable among
the many remarkable figures appearing on the
stage of English politics during the first half of
the eighteenth century was that of Philip, Duke
of Wharton. A man of many gifts, author, or-
ator, statesman, and soldier ; loyalist and rebel by turns, Whar-
ton's eccentricity and instability of character alone prevented
him from occupying a very high place in directing the concerns
of his native land. Although, like so many of his contempora-
ries, a drunkard, gambler, and libertine, the Duke was far from
being either brainless or heartless, and it is by no means impos-
sible that his great abilities would have been turned to other
account than they were, had his earlier training been different.
Son of Thomas, Marquis of Wharton, one of the most prominent
leaders of the great Whig conspiracy, which brought about the
overthrow of the Stuart Dynasty and the accession to the English
throne of William, Prince of Orange, he was born in December,
1698. Educated at home, in accordance with the strictest Cal-
vinist principles, his father expec:ed him to develop into a staid
pillar of the Protestant Church and State, which he had done
his best to purge of all tendency towards Catholicism or Toryism.
Feeling convinced that his son would follow in his own rigid
footsteps, in affairs of religion as of State, the Marquis devoted
extraordinary attention to the cultivation of the oratorical tal-
ent, of the possession of which the boy early gave proof. That
the lad would ever be anything but a prim precisian and a
strict upholder of Whig doctrines, that he would favor the Pre-
tender, join the King's enemies, or die a Catholic, never en-
tered his father's narrow mind. When the future Duke was
baptized, on the fifth of January, 1699, his sponsors were King
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I906.] PHILIP, DUKE OF WHARTON 793
William III., the Duke of Shrewsbury, and Princess Anne, of
Denmark, afterwards Queen Anne. Every possible care was
taken with his education, and a host of instructors were em-
ployed in the development of his budding talents.
One of the Duke's latest biographers states that '' at the
age of thirteen Philip was acquainted with the best part of
Virgil and Horace, learning the text by heart; nor was this
the sole feat of the youth's memory. He was taught and ac-
customed to recite (after having acquired them by heart) pas-
sages from Shakespeare and the later dramatists ; also to de-
liver parliamentary speeches, selected by his father, and es-
teemed at that time models of rhetoric. He also studied closely
metaphysics and mathematics; in fact, no task was too diffi-
cult for the youth, no problem was too abstruse for his under-
taking, and no situation came amiss to his ready wit."* In
person the youthful earl, as he then ranked, was singularly hand-
some, while he was skilled in all the arts of arms and of the
chase practised by the young men of his time. The old Mar-
quis watched his progress in piety and learning with hopeful
eyes, until suddenly a disaster occurred which blasted all his
fond anticipations. Earl Philip stole away from the parental
abode and, on the 2d of March, 17 14-15, was married at the
Fleet t to Miss Martha Holmes, daughter of Major-General
Holmes, a handsome girl whom his boyish fancy favored, but
whose fortune was as 'small as her beauty was great. The old
Marquis simply collapsed under this blow. His heart was
broken. He sought his bed, and never left it until carried
therefrom in his coffin. In his seventeenth year, Philip became
• Philip, Duke of Wharton, jdgS-jyji. By John Robert Robinson. London : Sampson,
Low & Co. P. 3.
fThe London Weekly Journal ol June 29, 1723, said : " From an inspection into the sev-
eral registers for marriages kept at the several alehouses, brandy shops, etc., within the Rules
of the Fleet Prison, we find no less than 32 couples joined together from Monday to Thursday
last without licenses, contrary to an express Act of Parliament against clandestine marriages,
that lays a severe fine of j£'20o on the minister so offending, and j£^ioo each on the persons so
married in contradiction to the said statute. Several of the above-named brandy-men and
victuallers keep clergymen in their houses at 20s. per week, hit or miss ; but it is reported that
one there will stoop to no such low conditions, but makes, at least, j^'soo per annum, of di-
vinity jobs after that manner." The system of Fleet marriages originated in the revolt of
the Protestant incumbents of the parishes of Trinity Minories and St. James', who claimed
to be exempt from the jurisdiction of the Protestant Bishop of London. When the trade in
cheap marriages which they carried on was interdicted, the business was taken up by the many
clerical prisoners for debt confined in the Fleet Prison or resident in the miserable lodgings or
sponging houses connected therewith. These men, we are told, "having neither cash, char-
acter, nor liberty to lose, became the ready instruments of vice, greed, extravagance, and
libertinism.
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794 Philip, Duke of Wharton [Sept.,
second Marquis of Wharton. Previous to his ill-considered
marriage, he had been involved in a flirtation with a lady who,
for the best of all possible reasons, was not free to wed him
even if she had been so inclined. It will be seen, therefore,
that the Marquis bad displayed at a very early age the ten-
dency which mainly marred his life. Under the circumstances,
the trustees of his father's will decided that the best thing they
could do would be to send their ward upon a Continental tour,
but they selected as his guardian or tutor a brutal French
Protestant, who appears to have resorted even to blows in or-
der to curb the impetuosity of his wayward pupil. In com-
pany with this man Wharton traveled to Geneva ; but one mom*
ing, when the tutor inquired for his charge, he was missing.
Philip was on his way to Lyons, which he duly reached. At
this timet the Pretender, son of James XL, was staying at
Avignon, and the Marquis^ trampling on all the prixxciples in-
culcated by his father^ proceeded to address him in terms of
fervent loyalty, at the same time presenting him with a mag-
nificent charger. The Stuart Prince was not slow to recognize
the importance of winning to the support of his cause such a
distinguished personage^ and he promptly responded by send-
ing one of his principal officers to invite him to attend his
Court. This the Marquis did, duly offering homage to the
legitimate King of England, and accepting from him the wholly
invalid patent of Duke of Northumberland. One day at Avig-
non was enough for Wharton, who next proceeded to Paris,
where he laid his sword at the feet of the widowed and much-
injured Queen of James II.
Lord Stair* was at this time the English Ambassador at
the Court of King Louis, and he appears to have made per-
sistent efforts to induce the Marquis to abandon the foolish
course he was pursuing, and also to persuade the authorities
in London to take a lenient view of his proceedings. He was
successful in both efforts, but it is asserted that before Whar-
ton left Paris he induced the mother of the Pretender to pawn
her jewels for ;^2,ooo and to entrust the sum to him for use
♦This was the second Earl of Stair, son of John, first Earl, who, as Sir John Dalrymple,
during the lifetime of his father, Viscount Stair, a famous Scottish lawyer, was one of the
three important personages deputed by the Scotch Parliament to offer the Crown of Scotland
io William of Orange and his wife, Mary. The first Earl of Stair was the chief planner of the
inhuman Massacre of Glencoe, as well as of the Union between the legislatures of ScoiUnd
and England, effected in the reign of Queen Anne.
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I906.] PHILIP, DUKE OF WHARTON 795
in England in furtherance of her son's interest in that coun-
try. It is only too probable that the money was speedily lost
at some Parisian gaming table. Whatever happened as regards
the money, the Marquis left Paris for London on December 16,
1 7 16. It is impossible to believe that he took this step with-
out having first ascertained that Lord Stair had obtained some
promise that his conduct while in France would be forgiven.
No attempt, at any rate, was made to call him to account and,
early in 1717, he departed from London for Dublin.* Philip
had a very practical purpose in view in taking this step. Be-
ing still a minor, he could not take his seat in the English
House of Lords, nor could he have done so in the Irish House,
either, if the regular usage had been upheld. It was then,
however, possible to do things in Ireland which would not be
tolerated in England, and on August 27, 171 7, he claimed ad-
mission to the Irish House of Peers, under the titles of Earl
of Rathfarnham and Marquis of Carlow or Catherlough, which
had been conferred on his father. No one offered any objec-
tion, and the new Peer was introduced by the Earl of Kildare
and the Earl of Mount Alexander, taking the usual oaths,
which involved a ferocious denunciation of Popery and a fer-
vent declaration of allegiance to King George I. These for-
malities concluded, he took his seat. Forthwith, he proceeded
to collect the rents of his Irish estates, ousting his trustees
from the task, on the ground that Parliament having recog-
ni2ed him as of age, his tenants were bound to pay him. The
whole thing was monstrously illegal, but again no one pro-
tested. It may be noted that Wharton was accompanied to
Ireland, in the capacity of secretary, by Edward Young, des-
tined to live in the pages of literary history as the author of
Night Tkou^hts.\ The Marquis only remained in Ireland until
December, but he was constant in his attendance at the sittings
*Whcn Wharton arrived in Ireland, his god-father, Charles Talbot, Duke of Shrews-
bury, held the position of Lord Lieutenant, so that he entered on his career in that country
with everything in his favor. When he entered the Irish House of Lords, however, the Vice
Royalty was held by Charles Paulet, second Duke of Bolton and seventh Marquis of Win-
chester.
t Edward Young was bom at Upham in 1681 and, consequently, was senior to Wharton.
It is, however, doubtful if this fact rendered him a wise companion or guide for the mad-cap
Duke. There appears to be some ground for supposing that he intermingled in some of his
worst excesses. In 1727, he became an Episcopalian clerg>man, and was almost immediately
afterwards appointed one of the royal chaplains. He appears to have alternately flattered and
plundered Wharton. Notice of his literary work is superfluous here. He died on the 12th of
April, 1765, rector of Welwyn, in Hertfordshire. #
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796 PHILIP, Duke of Wharton [Sept.,
of the House of Lords, and never failed to support every pro-
posal of the Government. His private life was as reckless and
dissipated in Dublin as it had been in Paris, but he never
failed to vote as the Castle directed, and his reputation as a
sound loyalist grew proportionately. His natural ability always
enabled him to give a specious reason for his public acts, and
his oratory captivated an assembly which contained many gifted
speakers. One of the Committees of the House of Lords, of
which Wharton was chairman, recommended the adoption by
that body of a resolution which is thus recorded in its Journals:
Friday, November, 15, 17 17.
May it please your Majesty :
We, your Majesty's most dutiful and loyal subjects, the
Lords Spiritual and Temporal in Parliament assembled, being
entirely sensible that the Happiness and Welfare of these
Kingdoms depend — next under God — on your Majesty and
your Royal Family, and being desirous on all occasions Jo
express our unfeigned zeal for your Majesty's sacred person
and Government, beg leave in the most humble manner to
congratulate your Majesty on her Royal Highness the Prin-
cess's safe delivery, and on the happy increase of the Royal
Family by the Birth of a Prince.
This was quite loyal for the poor deluded Pretender's Duke
of Northumberland !
Among the other acquaintanceships ^yharton formed while
in Ireland, was one with . Dean Swift,* who appears to have
tried to get the Marquis to live a better life than the sadly
bad one he generally preferred. Although the ** patriot "
Dean's counsels had no effect on the youthful libertine, he did
not resent it, and in Scott's life of Swift there is quoted a
letter, written on the eve of Philip's departure from Dublin, in
the following words :
•Jonathan Swift, the celebrated dean of St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin, was born in the
Irish capital on the 30th of November, 1667. Few who have ever glanced over the much-
begrimed pages which contain Swift's poetical and prose writings will be likely to deny him
the charity of assuming that he must have been nearly always mad. Most of his imagery was
tainted by a filthiness which can only have been the outcome of a hopelessly unclean mind.
The fame which he secured as a *' patriot" was really earned by his thoroughly unscrupulous
championship of the supposed right of the English Protestant garrison in Ireland to govern
that country as it thought fit, without interference from England. The story of his nominal
marriage with Stella, and of his love affair with Vanessa, is sufficiently well known, and equally
sufficient to show that the man was an abnormal creature in more respects than one. He died
in the lunatic asylum endowed by Wmself, 1745.
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igo6.] Philip, Duke of Wharton 797
Monday Morning.
Dbar Dban : I shall embark for Kngland to-morrow. It
would be necessary for me to take leave of Lord Molesworth,
on many accounts, and, as Young is engaged in town, I
must infallibly go alone, unless your charity extends itself
to favor me with your company there this morning. I teg
you would send me your answer. And believe me, your
Faithful friend and servant,
Wharton.
P. S. — If you condescend so far come to me about eleven
o'clock.
The Marquis had not been long resident in London, before
he learned that George I., acting on the advice of his Ministers,
had determined to make him a Duke. Two explanations have
been offered of this honor, unprecedented in the case of a man
not yet of age. One is that the King thought that he should
treat Wharton at least as well as the Pretender bad done* and
the second is the natural anxiety of the leaders of the Whig
faction to secure the permanent attachment of the Marquis to
their cause. The probability is that both explanations are cor-
rect ; they are in no degree contradictory. In the preamble of
the paient creating him Duke, the King declared as follows:
We confer a new title on our right trusty and entirely be-
loved cousin, Philip, Marquis of Wharton and Malmsbury,
who, though bom of a very ancient and noble family, wherein
he may reckon as many patriots as forefathers, has rather
chosen to distinguish himself by his personal merit. The
British nation, not forgetful of his father, lately deceased,
gratefully remembers how much their invincible king, William
III., owed to that constant and courageous asserter of the
public liberty and Protestant religion.
The new Duke was not permitted to take his seat in the
House of Lords until the 2d of December, 1719, when he had
attained his majority. His eldest son, who had been born on the
nth of March, 1718, was baptized on the 29th of March, 17 19,
amidst much pomp and outward display of rejoicing. It seems
certain, however, that the Duke [already deeply regretted his
foolish marriage, and cared very little for his wife, although he
appears to have had some affection for his child. At any rate.
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798 Philip, Duke of Wharton [Sept.,
he plunged into a career of the wildest dissipation in London,
leaving^ his wife to mind the baby Marquis at their country seat,
Winchendon. The Duchess, not unnaturally, objected to this
treatment, and insisted on being brought to London and intro-
duced to the high society in which her husband was display-
ing his courtly graces and handsome figure. Despite Wharton's
excuses and protests, she came up to town, bringing the boy
with her, but the poor little chap caught smallpox on the
journey, and died soon after reaching the capital. The Duke
became furiously angry and, for a considerable period, refused
to allow the Duchess to enter his presence. His Grace's grief,
however, did not^prevent him from being a constant attendant
in the House of Lords, or from exciting the enthusiasm of that
assembly by his eloquence. At the same time he was drink-
ing> gaming, and doing worse things, in full accordance with
the fashions of the '* young men of spirit " of the time. As a
necessary consequence, he was obliged to borrow money at an
exhorbitant rate of interest, and to fasten ruinous encumbrances
on the splendid possessions left him by his far more worldly-
wise father.
This is not the place to recount in detail the story of Whar-
ton's political career in the House of Lords. It must suffice to
say that, bit by bit, he drifted further and further away from
the official Whigs. Furthermore, he proceeded to borrow money
for the purpose of running candidates for the House of Com-
mons, no doubt with the object of forming a party therein which
would acknowledge his leadership. Parliamentary elections in
those days were usually costly adventures, and Wharton's re-
sources were already insufficient to meet his personal expenses.
With his other occupations, at this time, he combined the dis-
charge of the duties of President of a Hell Fire Club,* and it
seems certain that he had abandoned everything in the nature
of religious practice or profession. Moreover, he ranked as one
of the greatest libertines amongst those who formed the most
immoral coteries of London society. When, in August, 1722,
the famous Dr. Francis Atterbury, Protestant Bishop of Rochester
* An English Order in Council was promulgated, April a8, 1721, and an Act passed by the
Parliament of Ireland for the suppression of the Hell Fire Clubs, which were assemblies of a
Luciferian character. Centring in London, they had affiliated branches at Edinburgh and
Dublin. The toasts proposed at the orgies of the members were blasphemous in an appalling
degree. A large black cat always occupied the seat of honor at the meetings of the Clubs,
and the scenes enacted baffled decent description.
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I906.] PHILIP, DUKE OF WHARTON 799
and Dean of Westminster/ was arrested and impleaded before
the House of Lords on a charge of high treason, because of his
notorious Jacobitism and correspondence with the Pretender and
his friends, the Duke became his most zealous champion and
defender. During the trial of the bishop he delivered a fervid
speech in his defence, and when the traitorous prelate was sen-
tenced to banishment, he was one of those who attended to
bid him farewell on his departure into exile. At this time,
Wharton published a journal called the True Briton, in which
he criticized in prose and verse all the ^proceedings of Walpole
and his colleagues. That these afforded ample material for
condemnation everybody knows, and it is to Wharton's credit
that he consistently denounced •the corruption and plundering
which were going on in high places. One set of verses which
he wrote and published in the True Briton will suffice as a
sample of the pungent contents of that militant periodical.
They were as follows:
ON ROBBING THE EXCHEQUER.
From sunset to daybreak, while folks are asleep,
New watch are appointed, the Exchequer to keep;
New bolts and new bars fasten every door.
And the chests are made three times as strong as before.
Yet the thieves in the daytime the treasure may seize.
For the same are entrusted with care of the keys.
From the night till the morning 'tis true all is right;
But who will secure it from morning till night?
On the 17th of February, 1723-24, the last number of the
True Briton appeared. It would seem that the Duke had re-
ceived official warning that, if it were not discontinued, be
would be prosecuted for high treason.
Wharton was now in a state of serious pecuniary embar-
rassment. In 1725 a portion of his ancestral estates was sold
by order of the Court of Chancery, to pay creditors, and the
same tribunal directed that the remainder of bis possessions
should be vested in trustees, who were to collect the revenues
for the same purpose. Under this decree, a sum of ;^ 1,200
* Atterbury had persuaded himself that the exiled Stuart princes might be restored to the
(hrone by the adoption of what he regarded as the allowable and simple device of bringing up
the next heir as a Protestant. He offered, on the death of Queen Anne, to proceed to St.
Paul's in episcopal attire and proclaim the son of James H. King of Great Britain and Ireland.
He died in poverty at Paris, February 15, 1732. He was a brave and gifted man, wholly
destitute of common sense.
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8co Philip, Duke of Wharton [Sept,
per annum was set apart for the support of the Duke. This
income was, of course, quite inadequate to enable bis Grace to
maintain the style of living in which he had hitherto indulged,
and, accordingly, be determined to proceed to Vienna. His no-
tion was that, by living economically abroad for a few years, his
debts would be gradually paid off. From Austria he proceeded,
through France, to Spain, and despite his diminished resources
cut a gallant figure at the Court of Madrid. On the complaint
of the British Ambassador, he was thrice commanded by King
George to return to England, but he treated the orders of his
Sovereign with absolute contempt. On the 14th of April, 1726,
his unhappy and deserted wife died, and this fact probably
broke the last link between him and his native land. As, how-
ever, he now generally styled King George " the usurper," he
must be regarded as having renounced allegiance to that mon-
arch.
Attached to the Spanish Court, as a maid of honor to the
Queen, was . a beautiful Irish girl, Marie Theresa O'Neill
O'Beirne. This lady was the daughter of an exile of Erin who
had died a Colonel in the Spanish service. To the widow of
this brave man and to his only child pensions had been granted,
but save for these allowances they were destitute of resources.
Nevertheless, the Duke of Wharton resolved to marry Miss
O'Beirne, who appears to have been captivated by his unde-
niable capacity as a practitioner in the art of love. The eti-
quette of the Court, however, required that bis Grace should
obtain the consent of the Queen to his intended marriage, and
when this was applied for it was refused by her Majesty, on
the very sensible ground that the alliance would ensure the
permanent poverty of both the contracting parties. When once
Wharton had set himself to secure a particular end it was diffi-
cult to change bis purpose by opposition and, accordingly, be
persecuted the Queen with interviews and petitions, even hint-
ing that his devotion to his Irish sweetheart was so intense
that life would not be worth living unless he could make her
his wife. The girl herself was equally pertinacious, and when
Wharton declared his intention of becoming a Catholic, the
Queen reluctantly consented to the union. The marriage, of
course, increased the financial difficulties of the Duke, but the
King of Spain made him liberal gifts from time to time, until
even his generosity was overtaxed. Then the Duke and Ducb*
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I906.] PHILIP, DUKE OF WHARTON 8oi
ess set out for Rome, where Wharton reassumed the title of
Duke of Northumberland conferred on him by the Pretender.
Unfortunately, howeyer, he plunged into his old eccentricities
and dissipations in the Eternal City, with the result that he
was politely requested to leave the Papal States, unless he de-
sired to make a prolonged study of the interior of the dun-
geons of St. Angelo. Forthwith, he took shipping for Spain,
landing at Barcelona. On arrival, he found that the Spanish
forces were besieging Gibraltar, and promptly despatched a let-^
ter to Madrid offering to serve against his fellow-countrymen.
This, of course, was an act of high treason of the blackest hue,
indicating that Wharton had finally renounced allegiance to
King George. Apparently taking it for granted that he would
be welcomed in the Spanish ranks, he set out, accompanied by
his Duchess, for the scene of conflict He was not mistaken.
A few days after his arrival in the lines before Gibraltar, the
Spanish General, Comte de los Torres, handed him a letter
from his King thanking him '' for the honor he intended, by
serving under his colors during the siege," and appointing him
his aide-de-camp, a position that imposed the duty of forward-
ing regular reports to Madrid regarding the progress of the
operations.
It does not appear that the Duke showed much military
aptitude during the period of his service before Gibraltar,* and
it was, probably, well for himself that a slight wound in his
foot, caused by a splinter of a shell, afforded him reasonable
excuse for retiring to Madrid. Here he was promptly created
an additional Colonel of the Hibemia regiment, which was one
of the Irish corps in the Spanish army. The senior Colonel
of the regiment was the Marquise de Castelar, and it would
seem that the main purpose of the appointment was to afford
reasonable excuse for paying Wharton a handsome allowance
from the Spanish war chest.
The Duke was now in fairly comfortable circumstances, but
• The tenth article of the celebrated Treaty of Peace signed at Utrecht, in 1713, was in
(he following words: " The Catholic King (^«., of Spain) doth hereby, for himself, his heirs,
and successors, yield to the crown of Great Britain the full and entire property of the town and
castle of Gibraltar, together with the port, fortifications, and forts thereunto belonging ; and
he gives up the said property to be held and enjoyed absolutely, with all manner of right,,
forever, without any exception or impediment whatsoever." Notwithstanding this compact,
the cession of Gibraltar long rankled in Spanish minds, and the occasion on which Wharton
was employed in an effort to recover the great stronghold was only one of many similar efforts
to secure the cancellation of the provisions of the Treaty of Utrecht.
VOL. LXXXIII. — 51
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8o2 Philip, Duke of Wharton [Sept,
nothing could save him from himself. Dicing, wincing, and
dissipations of all kinds rendered him incapable of practical
work, while they rapidly exhausted not only the income be-
stowed on him by the King of Spain, but also that still pa-
tiently paid him by the London Court of Chancery out of bis
English estates. Indeed, it is impossible not to marvel at the
tolerance displayed towards Wharton by the advisers of King
George in allowing him to enjoy revenues which might have
been forfeited. It is not improbable, however, that the ten-
derness manifested in this regard was due to the appeals of
creditors who knew that, if the Duke's interest in his lands was
confiscated, their mortgages would become so much waste paper
as against the Crown claim. At this juncture in his affairs,
Wharton turned once more to the Pretender, who was then in
Rome, where he was not likely to hear much to the credit of
his Grace. At any rate, the Duke had the hardihood to ask
the Stuart Prince to receive him as a member of the Court
which he was then maintaining ih the Eternal City. The lat-
ter, however, displayed in this case a degree of common sense
which, unfortunately for himself, he did not always exhibit
His reply contained not only a curt refusal of Wharton's re-
quest, but also a stern condemnation of his unpatriotic conduct
in bearing arms against England at the siege of Gibraltar.
Finding himself thus rebuffed^ the Duke set out for Paris, where
he addressed a letter to the English Ambassador, beseeching
permission to return to his native country, on the ground that
he had never been disloyal to George II., who had only re-
cently ascended the throne of Great Britain and Ireland. The
Ambassador was Horace Walpole, brother of the Premier, Sir
Robert Walpole, whom Wharton had so constantly lampooned
in the True Briton. According to Horace Walpole, the Duke
told him his extremity was so great that he and his wife were
lodging in '' a garret" As might have been anticipated,. Hor-
ace Walpole received Wharton's protestations of loyalty some-
what coolly, but told him that, if he desired to write him a
letter stating his desires, it would be duly transmitted to the
British Government. Accordingly he received the following
contrite epistle:
July 6, 1728.
Sir : The friendship which your Excellency has always
had for my family makes me hope that you will not decline
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i9o6.] PHILIP, Duke of Wharton 803
to become an advocate in my favor with the King, that his
Majesty may be graciously pleased, to allow me the honor ol
, imploring his royal pardon for my past conduct, and that
in order to it his Majesty will permit me to make him an
humble tender of my duty in a letter, in which I may have
an opportunity of expressing the real sentiments of my
heart, and my unalterable resolution to pass the remainder
of my days as it becomes a dutiful subject, who has already
received the strongest proofs of his Majesty's great clem-
ency, and who is consequently tied to his duty by gratitude
as well as inclination. I shall esteem this as the greatest
mark of your Excellency's gopd nature, for really your trans-
mitting of my humble request to the King will be an act of
generosity that shall always be acknowledged.
P. S. — If your Excellency favors me with an answer of
{sic) this letter, directed to me at Rouen, it will as surely
reach me as it will charm me.
About the last thing in the world, however, which Sir Rob-
ert Walpole and his colleagues desired was the return of the
Duke of Wharton to England. Crippled though he was in
financial resources, they had far too bitter a remembrance of
his unreliability, as well as of his capacity as a political an-
tagonist, to wish to see him once more enter the House of
Lords. The result. was that, in due course, Horace Walpole
received the following official communication, which put an
end to whatever hopes his Grace may have entertained of re-
storation to his olden position :
Whitehall,
July 12, 1728.
Sir : Having laid before the King your Excellency's letter,
giving an account ot a visit you had received from the Duke
of Wharton, and enclosing a copy of a letter he wrote to you
afterwards upon the same occasion, I am commanded to let
you know that his Majesty approves what you said to the
Duke, and your behavior towards him ; but that the Duke of
Wharton has conducted himself in so extraordinary a manner
since he left England, and has so openly declared his disaf-
fection to the King and his Government, by joining with and
serving under his Majesty's professed enemies, that his Maj-
esty does not think fit to receive any application from him.
Newcastle.
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8o4 Philip, Duke of Wharton [Sept.,
The effect of the correspondence quoted was, as might be
expected, to make Wharton a more zealous Jacobite than be-
fore. He now went to reside at Rouen, where he set up an
establishment on a scale which he was wholly incapable of
maintaining, the more especially as the receipt of the revenue
previously remitted from his English estates speedily ceased,
consequent on his indictment before, and outlawing by, the
Courts for repeated acts of high treason.
The unfortunate Duke was now on his beam -ends with a
vengeance. Persecuted by angry and importunate creditors, he
was obliged to flee to Paris, leaving orders for the sale of bis
furniture, horses, and other appurtenances, and for the distribu-
tion of the proceeds amongst those who had claims upon him.
In this extremity, he turned once more to the Pretender, whom
he assured that his beggared condition was due to his loyalty
to the cause of the Stuarts. Arrived in Paris, Wharton had to
be content with a humble lodging, while his wife found shelter
in the home of an Irish relative at St. Germain. In due course,
a reply came from the Pretender, who sent him plenty of good
advice, as regards the amendment of his disorderly life, but
prudently refrained from lending him any money. Eventually,
however, bis Grace, was successful in inducing bis ''Royal
master," as he styled him, to remit from Rome upwards of
;f2,cxx), every penny of which appears to have been spent i^
the wildest dissipation. Quite suddenly, however, Wharton dis-
played signs of grace and repentance, entering a House of Re-
treat, wherein he charmed the good. priests who kept it by his
religious fervor, his penitence, and his personal ability and learn-
ing. Unhappily, he quickly threw off his self imposed restraint,
and returning to his previous companions, plunged into new
excesses. The inevitable result followed. Fresh debts were in-
curred, the Pretender would send no more money, and the
Duke and Duchess were compelled to return to Spain. Here
Wharton resumed duty with his regiment, while his wife was
enabled, through the bounty of the exiled Duke of Ormonde,
to proceed to Madrid, where she was received once more in
the poor home of her poor mother. The latter died shortly
after the arrival of the Duchess, and the result was that her
Grace was reduced to a state of absolute penury, through the
cessation of the pension which her mother had been paid as the
widow of an officer killed in active service. The unfailing charity
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I906.] PHILIP, DUKE OF WHARTON 805
of the King and Queen of Spain, however, brought them to the
rescue of the bereaved woman. Meantime, Wharton was desper-
ately ill, and his magnificent constitution was irretrievably ruined
by his excesses. For more than two months, in the beginning
of 1 73 1, he was confined to bed at his quarters in Lerida.
Eventually, he made a last effort and had himself conveyed into
the mountains, to drink the waters of a famous mineral spring
which he had previously found beneficial. His sufferings during
the journey were terrible, but the bold spirit was still unbroken.
He had nearly reached his destination, when he was seized by
some kind of a fit, probably apoplectic, and would have died on
the roadside, if he had not been carried to a neighboring monas-
tery of the Benedictine Order, wherein he received all the medical
and spiritual aid which the monks were able to bestow. For a
while the Duke appeared to rally, and recovered consciousness,
but it was apparent to all that the end was not far off. The
struggle with death lasted a week, and on May 31, 1731, the
earthly life of Philip Wharton, Duke of Wharton and Duke of
Northumberland, came to a close. The good monks who watched
by his bedside placed on record that " he made a very penitent
and Christian exit," and they laid him to rest with their own
deceased brethren in the aisle of the Church of the Franciscans
at Reus, nine miles west of Tarragona.
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THE EXPECTATION OF THE CONVERT.
BY A. M. F. COLE.
|T is exaggerated; under present conditions im-
possible of realization. Yet, for a certain large
class of English converts it is inevitable. It is
also the explanation of much that edifies, sur-
prises, perplexes, finally perhaps dismays, the on-
looking old Catholic.
A great number of our converts come from the working
and commercial classes, generally led towards the Church by
some external circumstance. Some go to Catholic schools;
some wish to marry Catholics; some are taken to church, or
convent, by Catholic friends. The knowledge of any outside
motive makes the priests extremely vigilant in these cases, and
after long and careful instruction many of these converts make
good and edifying Catholics. Of them this paper does not
treat.
They, of whom we do write, come, generally, from that class
boarded on one side by trade, and on the other by inherited
wealth and position. Professions, arts, literature in its many
senses, and agriculture are the main occupations in this par-
ticular stratum of society. Religiously, they come from the
ordinary, moderate Church of England ; from a state of indif-
ference to all religious belief; or from simple agnosticism.
Again I exclude all those who come from ritualism, evangel-
icalism, or any fervent religious atmosphere. I think they
have generally learned to be moderate in their expectations.
The greater number of people in this wide class are, nomi-
nally. Church of England. A convert gives this account of
her training in a Church of England household:
"As soon as we could speak we said morning and night
prayers. First we were taught some simple verses beginning
with —
Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,
Look on me a little child.
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I906.] THE EXPECTATION OF THE CONVERT 807
"Later, we were taught the 'Our Father* instead of the
baby prayer. After both we said ' Pray God bless papa and
mamma ' (here followed the names of near relatives), ' and
make me a good girl for Jesus Christ's sake, Amen.'
"When we were old enough to neither cry nor talk, we
were taken to Sunday churclu Dire penalties followed fidget-
ting or whispering during those long services. The clergyman
read prayers, lessons, psalms, litanies, and sermon. The parish
clerk said responses and amens, school children sang the chants
and hymns. No picture prayer books, no attempt at explana-
tion, gave us a glimmer of interest in what was going on.
, Church meant keeping still and quiet, listening to the clergy-
man, the clerk, or the school children. Public baptism of in-
fants who shrieked; public catechism of school children who
made funny mistakes ; blundering flying about of bats — dream-
flying by day — these were welcomed and longed-for diversions.
Even on those occasions we dared not either stare about us or
laugh. When we could read, we were expected to concentrate
our attention on our 'church services.'
" On Sunday evenings we were taught Old and New Tes-
tament history from two little catechisms, and sang 'hymns
ancient and modem,' to the accompaniment of piano or har-
monium. Later, we learnt the ' church catechism ' word for
word, the collect for each Sunday, with certain explanations,
and biblical references attached to them, and the text for the
day from a daily text- book.
" Our religion was going to Sunday church ; saying daily
prayers; learning Scripture history, catechism, collects, and
texts ; and a respectful silence on religious topics. The name
of God in ordinary conversation would have startled us like an
oath. Any mention of personal religion would have been a
shock and an embarrassment. This religion had no relation,
in our thought, to conduct or life. Belief in what it taught,
and such observance as it demanded, was part of the ' right-
ness ' that must be maintained ; that, generally, was maintained
by those we knew. After death the good would go to heaven
and the wicked to hell. 'The wicked' were a distinct class;
murderers, thieves, liars, cruel worshippers of idols. (jRoman
Catholics were included in the class of idol worshippers.)
Religion was not suggested to us as a motive of conduct.
The centre of law was an axiom universally understood : /. ^.,
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8o8 THE EXPECTATION OF THE CONVERT [Sept,
' Right must be done because it is right/ If that law were
broken, suffering followed — inherent in the wrong, as unhappi-
ness, shame, regret — or, from the authority that enforced the
law, by rebuke or punishment. Right conduct, like good health,
was normal, and went unremarked. Children were sometimes
naughty, because they were children. When we grew up we
should be good, like all grown up people, except those ' wicked
people,' as distinct from the good as the black races are from
the white. Our parents and nurses were good ; they told us
to be good, and punished us if we were naughty. Goodness
was the normal condition of grown up human beings.
"Through all the years of childhood our whole conduct,
and our thought of conduct, was based on the idea that jus-
tice, sincerity, kindness, and fidelity to duty, made a ' right-
ness' maintained by all except 'the wicked.' Throughout, and
after, our childhood, our mother kept vigilant watch over our
reading and our companions. No word was ever said before
us by grown up people, that could disturb our conviction of
their goodness. The moral atmosphere of our training was
absolutely pure. Truth, in the letter and the spirit, and in its
uttermost meaning, was required of us. ' It is worse to act a
lie than even to tell one,' was a nursery maxim. Modesty was
vigilantly enforced. Obedience, exact, prompt, and unques-
tioning ; respect for all elders ; courtesy to servants ; kindness
to each other; to poor people, apd to dumb things — all this
was part of nursery and school-room 'rightness.' Of course
we quarrelled, idled, were impudent, and disobedient like other
children. That made no difference as to the idea of an ordinary
rightness, maintained by most people, simply because right is
right. Self-accusation of all unseen wrongdoing was required
of us as a part of entire truthfulness. Punishment was in ex-
act proportion to faults. Our law was sanctioned by conscience
within us, and authority without.
" Later, when experience and reason modified our belief Id
grown up impeccability, in the absoluteness of right and wrong,
and our own tendency to goodness, the main idea of our train-
ing was unchanged. Rightness was still the law. Through
weakness, a tendency towards some particular fault, or under
strong or sudden temptation, people broke that law. Punish-
ment, interior, exterior, or both, sanctioned the law ; such
reparation as could be made was made. Always the law
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i9o6.] THE Expectation of the Convert 809
triumphed over the law breaker. Only 'the wicked/ that dis-
tinct and reprobate class, persevered in deliberate defiance of
the law. Lapses from fidelity to duty, kindness; sincerity, or
justice occurred. But we never doubted that such lapses were
regarded as wrong and shameful according to their gravity^
both by the wrongdoer, and the onlooker. Our whole train-
ing was based on the belief that the virtues of justice, sin-
cerity, kindness, and fidelity to duty make a ' rightness ' uni-
versally recognized as right; and that 'Right must be done
because it is right.' This was taught us with scarcely any ref-
erence to religion."
Some seventeen years since I was visiting relatives, who
were practically agnostic. The eldest child, a girl of about five,
was seized by a sudden fancy to ask the names of people in
pictures on the wall. We were alone in the morning room,
and she took me by the hand, pulling me from one picture to
another according to her whim. Drama, history, mythology,
were amongst the subjects represented ; finally we came before
the Holy Family, and the child pointed to each figure with an
imperative —
"Who's that?"
Unwillingly — fearing later comments and questions in public
— I said the Holy Name.
" What an uggerly name," the child exclaimed. " I do call
Jesus an uggerly name I "
A few days later the younger child, then about three year^
of age, ran into the room during luncheon, and standing by
her mother looked up into her face with great solemn eyes.
"Mudder," she asked, in her clear baby voice, "have you
seed Chist?"
Amazed silence fell on us. Then Sylvia spoke again :
" Have you seed Chist on the choss ? "
" I suppose the new nurse is religious," the child's mother
remarked vexedly. " I'll not keep her if she talks piety to
the children."
Afterwards Sylvia explained. She brought a new scrapbook
into my room, and showed me a picture of the crucifixion.
Under it was printed " Christ on the Cross."
"That's Chist on the choss," the child said, staring piti-
fully at the picture. '* Nanna said so."
Religious belief, or observance, was not part of the " right-
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«io The Expectation of the Convert [Sept.,
ness" that governed this household. With that exception, the
law was the same here as in the Church of England home —
justice, sincerity, kindness, fidelity to duty, made the right
that must be done for right's sake. Lately one of those girls
told me that, when she was very little, she thought something
she had said was not quite true. No result could come of it,
and no malice was intended, but the fear of having told '' a
story " kept her awake at night. Now, as in their childhood,
a tale of suffering brings tears to their eyes, and what help is
in them to the aid of the sufferer.
Theirs is the sort of unselfishness that singles out the shy,
plain girl, or the awkward dull young man, to make them at
ease and happy ; that plays the difHcult accompaniment or
dance, without minding that they can^ play it very well, be-
cause people want to hear the song, or to dance; that is al-
ways anxious to do what other people desire. In fact, these
girls consider scrupulous honor and charity the ordinary right-
ness of life, under their circumstances. They may be relied
on to defend the absent and unpopular. This is their convic-
tion, although they have had little religious training.
For some time I was intimately acquainted with a Uni-
tarian woman; and her Unitarianism was of the sort that
might be as accurately called pantheism. She was young,
good looking, highly educated, intellectual. Her father was a
wealthy mill owner, who entertained leading Liberal statesmen
at his house. What enjoyment great wealth can give to a
young woman Miss might have had; but she worked
harder to use rightly her wealth and her influences, than most
people work to earn their living. She learnt nursing at a hos-
pital; kept a district nurse entirely at her own expense; and,
without shirking the round of social duties that her parents
required of her, she took a practical, personal interest in the
nurse's work, visiting her patients regularly, and supplying all
that was needful. Stern, even rigorous, towards lack of clean-
liness or morality, I have known her to take off her own warm
petticoat, in a country road, and give it to a ragged, shivering
woman. And the butler, counting the waterproof coats and
cloaks at night, has found one missing. Miss had taken
it to give to some drenched poor person at the door. Often
I have seen her worn out by the effort to keep up with all
her duties, but she took it all quite as a matter of course. I
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I906.] THE EXPECTATION OF THE CONVERT 8ll
asked her, once, what 'she believed about the immortality of
the soul ; and she answered gravely, regretfully, that she saw
no ground for such a belief. So I understood the gratuity
and the finality of the giving of her life to duty. Also, her
absolute sincerity fascinated* me. We were passing a very hum-
ble little farmstead, and I remarked on its smallness.
"Yes"; Miss said. "My grandfather lived there."
And when an old man alluded to her father as " Old So and
So" — without prefix of " Mr." — she answered my comment with:
'' You see, they all started, together, he and my grand-
father and others; and my grandfather got on. Of course
they remember that."
This lady's sister was equally devoted in a different sphere
of activity. Their "rightness" was a stern and exacting law;
and they, too, had obviously been brought up in the convic-
tion that '' right must be done for right's sake."
These three types: Church of England, Agnostic, and Uni-
tarian, give a general idea of the moral and ethical training
of those converts of whom I write. Evangelicalism overlaps
one side of the Church of England, and fervent ritualism the
other; but the many are in the middle- way described by my
convert. Some Unitarians seek to follow the teachings of
Christ, as they know him ; and their discipleship of the
" Prophet sent from God " is like the '' Let us go also, that we
may die with him," of doubting Thomas. But the many are
pantheistic, holding no definite belief as to the personality
of God, or individual immortality. I have even known a be-
wildered and much heckled seeker after truth to label himself
" Unitarian," for the same reason that Emerson locked his
study door, and wrote on the lintel " Whim." " I hope," he
wrote, "that, at bottom, it is something better; but I cannot
spend the day in explanations."
My point is the " rightness" that is taken to be normal, in
each class that I have mentioned. The law of " right must be
done for right's sake," recognized in these households and rev-
erenced for its inherent goodness, with little or no reference
to a lawgiver.
Imagine a person, brought up in such moral and ethical
environment, living his rightness better or worse according to
his character, and blind to spiritual truth. Imagine him, either
after long seeking, or without any search, hearing the *' Eph^
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8 12 The Expectation of the Convert [Sept.,
pheta*' of Christ; seeing the truth revealed in the Catholic
Church. He sees eternity, and himself, and all other human
beings, immortal in that eternity. He sees this world as a bat-
tle-ground of the Church -militant. He sees Christ as the
Founder of the Church, the Leader in the battle of the Church-
militant, fighting till the enemies of that church nailed him to
the cross. He sees the cross the sign of the Christian; the
mark of his reception into the Church ; the symbol that epito-
mizes the life of a disciple, /. ^, of a Catholic. He has the
Faith now, and all things are changed to him. This life is only
worth living as an Act of Faith, of Hope, of Love: faith in
the Unseen, hope of Eternity, love of the Leader. Deus mens
et Omnia " is the instant response to that divine command
" Ephphetar
We who have seen this material world, since we were bom
into it, see much without the consciousness of seeing, and only
something unusual rouses wonder or admiration at what we see.
But one who had been bom blind, and whose eyes were opened
to see, would realize all he saw vividly, wonderingly, joyously.
So it is with the convert of whom I write. His thought is:
" One thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see."
The logical outcome of such a realization of things unseen
and eternal, is a contempt for things seen and temporal. How
could any sane person live for this world, material and tem-
poral, seeing that other world, spiritual and eternal ? Clearly
he sees that duty is the only reality in this life, and the doing
of that duty the task set for this life. That he knew before;
it was the law of '* right for right's sake " that governed his
childhood. But now, the standard of his 'brightness" is in-
definitely raised: he is a professed disciple of Christ; what is
the " rightness " taught by Christ ? It seems to differ only
in degree, not in kind, from what he knew before. Justice,
sincerity, kindness, and fidelity to duty, each practised to the
utmost and in the spirit, must involve mercy, humility, forgive-
ness, and self-sacrifice. Christ practised every virtue in an
heroic degree. His religion is Hero-worship : the following of
a Hero- Leader. That is the meaning of the cross- symbol.
Practically the convert raises his standard of ''rightness" from
"all he ought to do" to "all he can do." The utmost is rea-
sonable, because even utmost effort can never reach that unat-
tainable Ideal, Christ crucified.
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(9o6.] The Expectation of the Convert 813
This sort of convert generally feels sure that in every vir-
tue he is very far behind old Catholics, and all Catholics who
have been long in the church.
Eagerness to get on fast in the following of the Master
spurs on his already ardent enthusiasm. " Lord, if it be thou,
bid me come to thee/* is his cry, whenever and wherever he
sees Christ. And if he hears, or thinks he hears, the '' Come "
of his Lord, he will go^or, at least, he will begin to go —
the shortest way, even if that means walking on the waves of
the sea.
And this literal conduct of the convert is only what his
family expect. So long as he remains at home nothing in his
environment will encourage laxity or self-complacency. What
his people know of the commands and the teaching of the
Church, so much they expect to see in the obedience and
practice of the convert. They may condemn his credulity,
laugh at his belief, but they require that his conduct shall be
levelled up to the exact height of profession. Is the' nearest
church eleven miles distant ? Of course he will walk there,
fasting, on Sunday morning to receive the Body and Blood of
Christ, and be mystically united with God. One girl who,
years ago, turned back, tired out, from such a walk, is re-
proached for her lack of zeal to this day. If he confesses his
sins to a priest, then he must aim at overcoming those sins,
and they will aid his efforts ! '' Don't forget that when you
go to confession," is their comment on any lapse from the
higher " rightness " inseparable from his professed belief. And
under all their raillery and banter lurks a real expectation of
goodness, even of heroism, in him and in all Catholics.
In any ordinary, non-Catholic surroundings the [convert will
find that much is expected of him. "And you a Catholic!"
adds an immensity of reproach to any criticism. So long as
those around the convert echo his own expectation of himself,
and of all Catholics, he will believe that his shortcomings are
due to individual perversity and non-Catholic training. If
he passes his life in such environment, only meeting his co-
religionists in church or on religious ground, he may never
realize his mistake. Fighting his worser self; groaning over
what is human in himself, because the sacraments have not
changed it into divinity ; sure that his own fault and defect
hinder the working of grace in him ; convinced that he is the
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8 14 THE Expectation of the Convert [Sept,
last and least amongst Catholics, he will be humble, enthusi-
astic, and very happy. Does such a one live in the very
inner truth of the Church, undisturbed by the outward human-
ity ? Is the Church to him what it ought to be to all ? When
the Church- militant ends the circle of h^r life; when she has
triumphed wholly; when, entering again into eternity, at the
closing of the circle of time, beginning and end meet ; will the
humanity in her then, through much tribulation, be like the
humanity of those of the saints who were with Christ — the
few who left all to follow him ; who, overcoming cowardice
and sloth, lived and died for him ? As the sanctity of the
aged man, after a long life of combat, may meet the purity
of his infant baptism, so may it be with humanity in the Cath-
olic Church. And the convert, living strenuously in the truth,
looking from his truth, and from his solitude, on Catholic hu-
manity, sees it as he knows it was, as he knows it ought to
be; as to him, and perhaps to God in the "Now" of eter-
nity, it is.
If the sort of convert we are considering is free, or when
he becomes free, from any tie of duty, he will seek first Cath-
olic privileges and opportunities of living his faith. Again I
will describe one case as an example. A convert from agnos-
ticism^passed some years amongst non- Catholics, and was only
intimately acquainted with a few Catholics, who were either
religious or fellow- converts. At a given moment she found
herself free, and an opportunity of doing useful and much-
needed work in a large provincial mission. She offered her-
self, was accepted, and began work. She was a tertiary of St
Francis, and resolved to live the life of a tertiary. She would
fling aside all that could cumber her spiritual life and hold to
nothing of this world but its duty. Pleasure, profit, ease, she
despised ; she would give all she had to give to him in his
poor. Time, money, prospects, youth, health, position; even
a great possession, worth indefinitely more than all these, she
would give, "as unto him." She felt sure that the freedom
and opportunity given her were a concession to her weakness.
Catholics generally could live first for religion in the midst of
worldly duties and social distractions. She saw them regular
and punctual at Mass, at the sacraments; heard the piety of
their opinions and conversation on the occasions when she met
them. They were strong in the spirit of the Church, and had
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i9o6.] The Expectation of the Convert 815
overcome fleshly resistance in themselves. But she had learnt,
in herself, the power of the weakness of the flesh, of hereditary
pride, and various other faults against the kingdom of Christ
in her. And Christ, who saw that war betweefi to will and to
do, pitied her weakness and freed her from handicap of worldly
ties and preoccupations. She never doubted that every Cath-
olic, tied to duties inseparable from family, wealth, or position,
must look on her liberty with holy envy. To them her con-
duct, her voluntary poverty, toil, and hardship could require
no explanation. Poorly lodged, poorly fed, shabbily dressed,
she toiled very practically amongst the poor, revelled in her
Franciscan life, was utterly content — except with her own
shortcomings — and thought her conduct mere matter-of-course
in any free Catholic.
Many of the congregation, however, were not of that opinion.
They said no one would live such an extraordinary life except
for some hidden motive. Was she, after all, making the best
living she could for herself, under the cloak of charity ? Was
she taking money on the quiet ? Was she in love with one
of the doctors she met in her work ? Had she, perhaps, done
something disgraceful and come here to hide herself? From
the clergy they could draw neither information nor opinion.
Evidently either they were hoodwinked or they were bound to
silence. Well — time would show. Meantime they would watch,
inquire, if opportunity occurred, and hold themselves aloof.
Certain they were that no one in her senses, and out of a
convent, would give everything for nothing.
Wrapt in illusion, the convert was long unaware of the
feeling against her. But she was thin-skinned and felt a chill,
and thought the faithful felt her unworthiness of all her priv-
ileges; and their coldness rebuked her faults. They, with h(r
opportunities, would probably be saints. Naturally they ex-
pected much of her. Perhaps, too, they suspected her of pride
because she had no time to visit or receive visits, and they
were chiefly of the commercial and working classes. The
clci'Sy* she felt assured, approved of her life and its privileges,
and naturally did not spare time or thought to add to such
Catholic bliss. Also, her outside work absorbed thought and
effort.
At last, after many a tug and pull that she never could
realize, the cloak of illusion was torn away from her with fi-
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8i6 THE Expectation of the Convert [Sept.,
nal, sudden roughness. She was pervious to fact at last. The
fact that bewildered her was this, that what seemed to her,
and to the non-Catholics who mocked at her fanatical creed,
mere literal Catholicity, seemed to some of these Catholics so
extraordinary that it forced them to suspect, snub, and accuse
her.
So the expectation of that convert vanished. Every one of
the faithful was not necessarily an incarnation of the Faith.
She cut down her own profession and observance to Sunday
and Holyday Mass, Easter duties, and the Pater Noster. She
observed, and commented on, the paradox of pious observance
on the part of some without ordinary " rightness." Only the
fascination of Christ, the conviction that the Church was his,
the sacraments contact with him, held her within the Church
through long years of groping bewilderment. From the lowest
depth she cried to a friend — a young convert priest — and he
answered with a quotation :
" ' What is that to thee ? . . . Follow thou me.' "
The woman heard those words spoken by Christ to her.
She saw, in a flash, the impertinence of criticism; the futility
of complaint, the singleness of Christ's dealing with each soul.
She, too, began to understand. She hastened to the sacra-'
cnents, in eager appeal for help. As Peter thrilled at the grasp
of the Master's hand outstretched to save him, as he felt con-
science-stricken at the rebuking of his little faith, so was the
woman thrilled with love and loyalty and remorse at that Com-
munion. Her mind seemed filled with the regretful question:
^•Wherefore did I doubt?"
Something of the misery of those past years she told to a
holy old Jesuit. He criticized her conduct with pitiless com-
mon sense, till she stammered in confusion:
" It all sounds so mad — now ! "
The priest smiled grimly.
'' It was madness " ; he said. " Like the madness of the
Israelites, when they cried to Moses : ' Speak thou to us. Let
not God speak, lest we die ! ' "
That comment, on what she had not said, startled her so
that she did not speak. The Jesuit went on, and his tone was
severe.
"You forgot our Lord's warning: 'Do what they say, but
not what they do.' You forgot that the high priest prophesied^
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i9o6.] THE Expectation of the Convert 817
even in consenting to the slaying of Christ, because he was
high priest."
** Yes " ; the woman answered. " But why do you answer
more than I have asked?"
" Perhaps because I, too, am a priest of God."
*' I understand better now," she said softly. "And I will try
not to forget, or to falter, again."
This example epitomizes the experiences of many converts,
under more or less similar conditions. The faith that inspired
their expectation generally survives it; but the reaction from
"believing all things, hoping all things," is an extreme of sus-
picion, even of cynicism.
Not long ago I heard a young man and an older woman
talking together. He spoke in bewilderment and anguish of
soul : " Everything is changed. I no longer understand — any-
thing ! "
The woman answered slowly : " Perhaps you never did un-
derstand — really."
They fell to talking of expectation and of non-fulfillment.
He stopped there. She went on to speak, stammeringly, of a
" something better " glimmering like gray dawn in the east.
" We were very ignorant," she said, " of the limits of human
nature; in ourselves and in every one."
The man laughed.
" My puppy," he said, "jumps, wriggling with effort, like a
flying fish, trying to catch the sparrows he can see on the edge
of the house roof. When he's exhausted be lies down and
pants, and then begins again. He has no doubt that he can
and will reach them. You and I were quite as absurd ! "
The woman answered, seeming to think while she spoke, as
if her thoughts found utterance difficult.
"It was our 'right' then. And, jumping at the then un-
attainable, we caught a glimpse of the real. We saw from higher
than our own height ; and over our environment."
The man lifted his head with a jerk, and seemed to speak
rather breathlessly.
"You think that futility and failure were only apparent:
that the reality was like the glimpse, before Purgatory, of Christ
— a promise and a goal ? "
The eager smile of the enthusiast lit up the woman's face.
VOL. LXXXIII.«*52
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8i8 THE Expectation of the Convert [Sept,
She answered simply : " I never forget what I saw. Now I
begin to understand."
Silence fell between them. The man's thoughts seemed to
cheer him, for his face lightened gradually. From my own
thoughts I spoke, suddenly, breaking in on theirs.
" A day's journey from here, I have found all that we three
expected."
*'In a convent?" asked one. And the other: ''In some
isolated saint ? "
" In a people," I answered, "who have kept the faith through
persecution, and keep it now through sacrifice."
" Tell us what you have seen ? "
'' There is too much ; I can only cite random examples of
the whole. There, parents give their dearest and best children
to the Church and the cloister, and thank Grod for taking them;
the rich give thousands to charity ; the poor share their last crust
with the poorer; the churches are crowded at daily Mass; the
confessionals and the altar rails are thronged with men and wo-
men, rich and poor. Heroic virtue is preached from every pul-
pit as mere matter of course, and the people drink in the teach-
ing. The priests are just spiritual fathers: more or less kind;
more or less holy ; but always parental in authority and respon-
sibility. The people regard them with filial reverence and love.
Drunkenness I have seen there occasionally, but never the in-
decency oc brutality associated with that vice here ; the most
drunken man will steady himself against a wall to salute a
passing priest or nun. Disorder and dirt I have seen there, as
here, in poor parts; but never have I found lack of purity or
of gentle manners. I saw a pauper lunatic, in her death agony,
clasping a crucifix in her hands. \ saw a great, silent crowd
watching a burning house. I wondered at their silence, till a
red mass crashed down into the street, where firemen worked
splendidly. As it fell the arms of that great crowd were up-
raised. ' Oh, Sacred Heart ! ' came in one quick cry from hun-
dreds of voices. Then I understood their silence. I saw polo
played by the finest players in the world. My companion
pointed to the handsomest man and most dashing player of
all. ' That young fellow,' he said, ' means to go into a monas-
tery next week.' In the streets I saw ragged, barefooted children
run to bend their knee before priest or nun, and murmur:
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I906.] THE EXPECTATION OF THE CONVERT 819
'God bless you/ In a church, at Mass, I saw a well-dressed|
elderly man, praying with arms and eyes uplifted, forgetful of
all but God. The utmost condemnation I beard there, when
no excusing was possible, was ' God forgive him,* Of the worst
criminal I heard only 'God convert him.' Of the sinner over-
taken in sin, ' God help him.' In joy, or in sorrow, the first
ejaculation is ' Glory be to God ! * In the direst straits, ' God
is good.' I told an old priest how the carmen, driving full
speed in crowded streets, and telling tales the while, never
passed a church without saluting the Blessed Sacrament. 'Yes';
he said, ' and the gravest fault those men will generally have to
admit at confession will be: ' I said "bad loock to ye ! " to the
beast.' Those people do not fear death, because they already
live in the spirit. They do not fear poverty, because they do not
value earthly things. Human they are ; passionate in love and
in anger ; quick to laughter and to tears. . But their thoughts,
words, and deeds are saturated with Catholic faith and charity."
I paused, rather out of breath; but aware of how little I
had said of all there was to say.
The man spoke : " And these are old Catholics I Not con-
verts like us; fullof exaggerated expectation."
'.' Was it exaggerated, after all ? " the woman asked thought-
fully.
" Perhaps," he admitted, laughing a little, " we did some-
times forget that 'there's a deal of human natur' in man.'"
But I spoke of what I knew.
" Expect all you can of faith and charity, penetrating hu-
man nature. Then go to my holy island. There you will find
something better than your expectation."
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NEWMAN'S LITTLEMORE:
A FEW ADDENDA.
BY LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY.
May these scattered jottings be accepted by way of footnote to
my friend Mr. Wilberforce's beautiful paper in the July Catholic
World? They comprise some hints of a topographical nature,
omitted by him, which yet may prove interesting to some of the
household of the Faith, particularly to any who go to Oxford
and to Littlemore from '*the great English-speaking Republic of
the West."
^ITTLEMORE has changed for the worse since New-
man lived there. We come across a great steam
laundry now, and a lunatic asylum, and rows of
small, unlovely brick cottages. But it still has
character; and certain bits of it Cowleyward, and
Ifileyward, are exactly as they were. The long ascent from
liHey Turn, where the omnibuses stop — local transportation
being still very primitive — is called Rose Hill. The view of
Oxford is pretty, but spoiled by too much brick in the per-
spective. One resents these modern excrescences on the gray
town of the ages. Better views by far can be had from the
Hinckseys, Headington, Elsfield, Nuneham, and even from be-
tween the hedgerows of a fieldpath hard by, which crosses
high land between the famous Norman church at Ifiley and
Littlemore Post Office. A less romantic way of reaching New-
man's haunts of 1843-1846 is to go by train: the station is
very convenient to the Parish Church.
That plain little church attracts everybody. * There is
something likable about the lych-gate, the comely ivy, the
yew-tree (uncommonly big for its age, which is only some fifty
years), the rural graves, spreading among the southerly grasses,
and up to the ever-open door, the legible tower clock, and the
whole peaceful, unpretending enclosure. The plans were drawn
up by Rev. Thomas Mozley, an amateur architect of taste,
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i9o6.] Newman's Littlemore 821
who was soon afterward to become the husband of Newman's
sister Harriett. Many people suspected at the time that Hur-
rell Froude's enthusiasm was at the bottom of it, but that
dearest of all Newman's friends was dying in Devonshire while
the walls were rising, his death preceding that of Newman's
mother by only three months. Some carping Oxford Evangel-
icals fell foul of the enterprise and attacked it in print; one
of them indicts Froude and Newman together as Popish con-
spirators, and excoriates as dark and evil " the style of Gothic
architecture which they are plotting to introduce ! " This quo-
tation from a then conspicuous but now forgotten pamphleteer,
will prove that the little church was a pioneer of its kind.
In fact, it was the first Early English ecclesiastical building
erected in the neighborhood of Oxford since the Reformation ;
simple as it is, it is very successful, thanks to its graceful pro-
portions. A great drawback, however, to all Early English
buildings, is the restricted light coming through narrow lancet
windows. Newman himself found the interior too dark for
practical purposes. Plenty of hideous gaudy glass, crowded
with detail, was put in shortly after Newman's time : of course
it was long considered the most elegant thing in the world.
Glass was at its heroic worst, midway of the nineteenth cen-
tury. On the north side of the nave, and in one window on
the south, are very harmonious and quiet colored designs of
single figures of Saints, occupying only the upper lights of the
windows, while such faintly tinted panes are left for a back-
ground as would have pleased the Middle Ages. These sub
stitutions are, if I mistake not, the work of William Morris,
and, as such, one of the benefits of Canon Irvine's incumbency.
Quite recently there has been added a!so, replacing a red and
blue horror in the style of the rest, a good and striking east
window representing the Crucifixion, the design of a young
artist.
The present shapely chancel and the tower were not put
up by Newman. His intentions for his unforeseen future
probably embraced something akin to them ; but in his day
the east wall of his sacellum of SB. Mary and Nicholas (the
ancient Littlemore dedication), went straight across where the
chancel arch now is, and his very modest altar stood against
it. A cross, then a most unusual adornment of any Church of
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822 Newman^s LITTLEMORE [Sept.,
England sanctuary — how far have we not traveled since then !
— was cut over it, by order of the bold Tractarian general-
issimo. Mr. Wilberforce mentions the wretched fate of the first
pulpit, from which were preached so many unforgettable ser-
mons, the last of which was "The Parting of Friends." (For
an exquisite description of the delivery of that one, and of the
pathos of the occasion, see Serjeant Bellasis' Mitnorials.) The
pulpit stood not where the present pulpit is, but in the oppo-
site corner, near the window whence the good Bishop Nicho-
las looks down upon the Reading-desk. The Communion plate
and some fine candlesticks, still in use, were individual gifts to
Newman, and remain as relics of him, to our generation.
The Littlemore church has made a profound impression
upon a great many people. More than one well known British
pilgrim has felt impelled to kneel down there and offer a heart-
felt prayer for the return of England to her spiritual home,
the bosom of the Universal and Roman Church. There is a
legend that the holy Passionist, Father Dominic Barberi, did so
when he saw it first : this was some years before he put his
sickle to that great harvest of a great soul, and, through him, to
the harvest of souls unnumbered. "There is need of a little-
more grace," said the wistful Italian shepherd, smiling over his
English pun. The thoughts of " Reunionists " like him are
always nopeful. When I first saw the Church in 1891, the
Bible on the Lectern lay open at the sixtieth chapter of Isaias.
It was thrilling to read on that ground, and with such things
in mind as those with which Catholics in England must needs
be haunted forever, the majestic familiar phrases, like antipho-
nal trumpet music far away. "Arise: shine: . . . Gen-
tiles shall come to thy light, and Kings to the brightness of
thy rising." ..." They shall come up with acceptance
on mine altar, and I will glorify the house of my glory. . . .
Surely the isles shall wait for me . . . and the sons of
strangers shall build up thy walls, and their Kings shall minis-
ter unto thee; for in my wrath I smote thee, but in my fa-
vor have I had mercy upon thee. . . . The sons also of
them that afflicted thee shall come bending unto thee, and all
they that despised thee shall bow themselves down at the soles
of thy feet; and they shall call thee the City of the Lord,
the Zion of the Holy One of Israel. ... I will make thee
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I906.] NEWMAN'S LITTLEMORE 823
an eternal excellency, a joy of many generations. . , . Thy
sun shall no more go down, neither shall thy moon withdraw
itself: for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and the
days of thy mourning shall be ended. ... I the Lord will
Jiasten it in his time." The engraved panorama which Mr. Wil-
berforce mentions of the spires and pinnacled roofs of the Uni-
' versity city, which is now at the Birmingham Oratory, does not
owe the selection of its legend (from the vision of the prophet
Ezekiel) to any random hand. Newman himself had it put there.
A similar engraving, similarly inscribed, by way of homage to the
other, hangs to-day on the wall of an Oxford house which
Wolsey built, and which belongs to the revered Chaplain of the
Catholic undergraduates. Canon Kennard. '^ Indeed, can these
dry bones live? And I answered: O Lord God, thou know-
est." But this much and no more has its tinge of doubt or
of despair. Let us not forget the glorious context: how One
breathed upon ''these slain," that they might live. .
''And the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood
up upon their feet, an exceeding great army." Some such re-
ligious hope, though mystical and latent, is a very real thing
in Newman's Oxford, the Oxford of our martyrs. She is way-
laid and enchanted this long while: but some day every beau-
tiful stone of her will be free.
Newman placed in his finished Church the sculptured bas-
relief by Westmacott, dedicated to his mother's memory. This
is still the only monument on the walls. In copying the letter-
ing upon it, Mr. Wilberforce has inadvertently omitted the
text which forms the second half of the inscription : . " Cast
me not off in the time of old age; forsake me not. when my
strength faileth . . . until I have showed thy strength
unto this generation, and thy power to every one that is to
come." Ps. Ixxi. Such a mother of such a son might indeed
take for her own those prophetic words, personal and true
and wide in their application beyond anything that could have
been foreseen in 1836. Mrs. Newman is not, however, buried
beneath. She died at her home. Rose Bank, IfHey, at the
foot of the hill which climbs toward Littlemore. The pretty
house stands back from the road, facing towards Oxford, and
has ample greensward and garden. There is a veranda in
front, an unusual thing in most parts of England. (I fear this
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824 Newman's Littlemore [Sept,
house has been re- named, very recently, by some incomer too
heedless of its hallowed memories.) Mrs. Newman's body was
carried to the University Church of St. Mary the Virgin, of
which her eldest son was still vicar. Her grave is on the
High Street side of the altar, and is marked by a gray slab,
bearing the date, and a simple legend worthy of the Catacombs :
**J. N. In Pace." She had once lived with her tamily, after
they had tried Nuneham and Horspath, in a smaller house
perched sideways on this same Rose Hill, and the house was
called Rose Hill too. It still stands near the Nonconformist
Chapel.
The Vicarage at Littlemore, next to the Church, and south-
east of it, is, despite its fifteenth-century picturesqueness, quite
modern. Littlemore was not a separate parish until after its
one man of genius had forsaken it. Many a journalist and
illustrator has been caught gazing with inquiring awe at that
arched doorway, and it is one of Canon Irvine's frequent and
half-sportive tasks to break the hearts of the aforesaid with the
information that Newman never lived there. The very humble
roof under which he did live is easily found.
It stands at a street corner, a little east by north, where a
lane breaks away from the road leading to Cowley, and on
the left side of the lane, as we turn into that conning from the
Church. The lane runs past a few houses and ends abruptly
in a footpath over the fields: this leads straight to the site
of the mediaeval Mynchery (/.^., nunnery), where now stands
a house of Elizabethan date, set in green meadows, stand-
ing all alone, looking towards Sandford. Newman's odd choice
of abode, often alluded to by himself and others as the Movi)^
is, as Mr. Wilberforce says, a row of cottages. It was origi-
nally a rectangular range of sheds or stabling, with openings
into the yard only. Newman took it as it was, and made no
alterations except to partition it off into rooms, and possibly
(though here I speak under correction) to put up the good
timber ceiling which we now find in two rooms once used in
common by his religious family. The rear entrances were re-
tained, and none others were added. The windows now fac-
ing the street were always there, but not so the doors:
these are the interpolation or afterthought of subsequent own-
ership. The rear entrances just mentioned had a rustic shel-
ter or lean-to, too rude to be called a piazza, running the
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I906.] NEWMAN'S LITTLEMORE 825
whole length. This has been divided off into many little
sculleries or laundries, used by the poor tenants who at pres-
ent inhabit the place ; but while Newman dwelt there it was
kept open from end to end. Very many earnest young
members of Oxford Colleges, and others unconnected with
the University, followed him, for a longer or shorter time,
to this asceth: retreat. It would be interesting to know
where Mark Pattison had his room, or Anthony Froude. (Ap-
parently *' all that they saw in Bagdad was the Tigris to bear
them away I ") Or we should like to be able to trace to the
nest of his youth, Father William Lockhart, predestined to be
the first of all the band to ford the stream of the Via Media
to the City set on a Hill. Father Bowles, the last survivor of
"Newman's young men," died about three years ago at Har-
row, where he was known as the beloved Chaplain of the Do-
minican Convent. He used to say that the family of Mr.
Bloxam, of Magdalen, had a plan of the premises, giving the
name of the occupant of every room. This, however, would
apply only to the community of 1842 or 1843. ^7 ^be begin-
ning of 1845 most of the brotherhood had gone away, and
Newman's interest was more and more concentrated on the
finishing of his great Essay on the Development of Christian
Doctrine. After St. John, his most devoted disciple, had made
the " venture of faith," the chief hermit of the hermitage lived
on with the three or four still faithful to Anglican ideals. One
of these told Mr. Wilfrid Meynell, who told me, that in the
course of time what had been the small oratory at the other
(northerly) angle of the house was given up ; the local Carthu-
sians drew closer together ; and Newman, moving out of his own
writing- room, turned it into the domestic chapel, fitted it up
with red hangings, and rough benches for stalls, and transferred
to it the large Spanish crucifix given by Mr. Crawley. The
other and larger apartment, belonging to the unselfish " Vicar "
(as he was still called), was then used by him as a combined
bedroom and study. These are points to remember, though
they have never appeared in print.
The stablings or cottages are now known, and must have
been known for at least seventy years, as "The College."
Every photograph or reproduced drawing of it which I have
ever seen brings the wrong wing of the building into the
foreground. Of course the conspicuous feature should be New-
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826 NEWMAN'S LiTTLEMORE [Sept.,
man's private cell : the interest of the civilized world centres
in that. It is to be found, though no guide-book tells us so,
at the extreme end of the " College," down the lane al-
ready mentioned. Visitors who stop at the last door are
ushered in by a good widow who now lives there; her
aged husband remembered " Mr. Newman " well, having once
been among those junior villagers for whom the whole New-
man family did so much. Here is the very room where Father
Dominic dried himself at the hearth- fire, that cold dripping
autumn night : the very room, therefore, into which Newman
came hurriedly, kneeling down and asking, with his own quiet
intensity, to be received into the Fold. May I venture to sug-
gest that I think Mr. Wilberforce is mistaken in stating that
the floor is not the very same? There has been an alteration,
but it affected the walls and not the floor; the former have
been papered since Newman's occupation. Books, in. old days,
lined all the walls, and filled all the cupboards of what is now
a kitchen. We recall that the precious library took long to
pack, when its owner ''put out to the open sea," for his first
port of Maryvale. This little land of shelves must have been
the scene of one famous post- Anglican encounter between New-
man and his loved Patristic folios. I know not who it is that
tells us, or whether he tells us himself, that a day or so after
his conversion he felt that he could go up, and did go up,
to the stout volumes of the Fathers with a recognizing kiss
and a murmured 2 '* You are mine now, you are mine now ! "
The inner and end room, now a bedroom, but first, as we
have seen, Newman's study, and then the oratory, is, there-
fore, the spot where Mass was celebrated by a Saint early on
October 9, 1845, when Newman, Stanton, Dalgairns, and Bowles
made their First Communion. " Put off the shoes from thy feet,
for the place where thou standest is holy ground." Suscep-
tible Americans, male and female, have been known to weep
there. It is all so very bare and lonely, almost sordid, that
long ground- floor habitation! to us who are so accustomed to
lay undue value on the material comforts of life. Not 50 the
English. Save in great cities, simplicity is still their basis. The
drop from the none too luxurious conditions of Oriel to the
austere Movi) could not have been so great an outward sacrifice
as it seems to some of us modern sybarites.
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I906.] NEWMAN'S LITTLEMORE 827
After Newman, grown old, first came up the remembered hill
with Father Ambrose St. John in 1868, and leaned in tears over
the lych-gate of his own little church of tender memories, he vis-
ited many of his former flock. Canon Irvine has been shown many
gifts sent to them by Newman after he had gone back to Edgbas-
ton. These took the form of his own photograph, inscribed with
his name and some affectionate word of personal remembrance,
or else of a presentation copy of one of the volumes published,
not after, but during, his Anglican life. What a typical, though
trifling instance of the power of delicate discretion which he
brought into all his dealings! Students of the Oxford Move-
ment will remember that he intended the Movif or " College "
to be but a temporary residence ; for, as Mr. Wilberforce has
not failed to remind us, Newman bought and planted for his
ultimate purpose a large tract of desirable land. Readers of
this Magazine may like to know that these acres lie between
the church and what is still known as the Barnes house, a small,
square brick affair, standing very near the road going towards
the railroad bridge, and next to a public house. It has a pretty
little terraced lawn at the back. Newman was on very friendly
terms with the Barnes family, and frequently stayed with them
here before settling at Littleaiore for good. He bought the adja-
cent property, on which he intended to build a roomy ccsnobium
looking towards the Myncbery and the fertile slopes of Garsing-
ton. His trees, which he was so proud of in their infancy, have
grown into a considerable grove. This pleasant estate, now in
private hands, might well be coveted by the OratoriansI One
can but echo Mr. Wilberforce's wish that some enduring memo-
rial of Newman should rise upon ground endeared to him and
associated with him at Littlemore. It is to be feared that for
Catholics to win possession of the poor long- dedicated little
'' College '' is, at any rate, impracticable. It stands on glebe-
land, having been bequeathed by Mr. Crawley to the Vicarage
inalienably ; and, as it is a diocesan matter, it would be difficult
indeed, or impossible, for us to interfere. To hire the place
would be useless, low as the rent is; it should be safeguarded
and kept sacred forever, or else left alone.
Newman lived four months of his Catholic life there : he did
not leave Littlemore until February, 1846. He and his com-
panions attended Mass and Vespers at the Chapel of St. Ignatius
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828 Newman's Littlemore [Sept.
in the district called St. Clement's^ Oxford, the selfsame building
still used by the Catholics of the neighborhood both as a School
for girls, and a Chapel- of Ease to the Jesuit Church in the
Woodstock Road. The Society has been active on the Oxford
Mission, with but one short interval, since the early seventeenth
century. Father Robert Newshan was Priest- in-charge at St.
Ignatius' during what is often humorously alluded to as ''the
'45." The Littlemore neophytes, in order to avoid observation,
used' to travel to Oxford, not down the Cowley Road, but down
a path roughly parallel with it, which, if it were as muddy then
in winter-time as it is now, must have developed their patience,
and given a tang of martyrdom to their first fervor.*
• A word more. These pages, as well as the better pages which they are meant to supple-
ment, make frequent mention of the Reverend John W. Irvine, Vicar of Littlemore. and Canon
of Christ Church, Oxford. Alas! news has just come of his death. No one else connected
with Littlemore ever was or ever can be more devoted to the memory of John Henr\ Cardinal
Newman. Something of his heart went out to each man or woman who reverenced it as he
himself did. It was always over him, like the sun-flecked shadow of a great tree. He knew all
that was to be known about him in loco; he collected portraits, letters, and traditions of his
Oxford life, and it was good to see his clear eye kindle as some new aspect of that ever welcome
topic was brought before him. The spiritual face of Canon Irvine, full of manly gravity, and
yet quaintly sweet, the silver hair, the fresh color, the attractive, old-fashioned air of courtesy
and wisdom and deep human helpfulness, will be missed by many " advence " as well as by
his bereaved friends. A High Churchman of the elder school, in many essential matters
he saw eye to eye with Catholics. Peace to that dear and devout spirit. Never 10 find
him a'gain on a flower-bordered lawn of that hilltop which Newman loved before him, is to
be robbed of a great deal of its moral warmth and light.
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flew Books,
As a solution of that perplexing
CATHOLICS AND TRINITY problem, the Irish University ques-
COLLEGE. tion, a project that receives, or
By Dr. Hogan. has received, some support from
prominent Catholics, and much
more from the opposite party, is so to modify the constitution,
character, and personnel of Trinity College, which is, in fact,
the University of Dublin, that Catholics may enter it on equal
terms with their Protestant fellow-countrymen. "Voices/' we
quote from the introduction to this very able statement • of
Dr. Hogan> "come from various quarters, telling us that there
is nothing for it but to storm Trinity College, to invade Trin-
ity College, to nationalize Trinity College, to modify, the con-
stitution of Trinity College, so as to make it like Bonn or
Breslau, to get rid of the Divinity School, to put out the par-
sons, and not to let in the priests; in a word, so to transform
and reconstitute the whole establishment as to make it a con-
genial habitation for young Irishmen of all creeds and classes."
Against this proposal the able professor of Maynooth pro-
tests vigorously ; and backs up his position with a forcible
presentation of telling arguments. It might, he admits, be
possible, after a long and bitterly- contested struggle, for Cath.
olics to obtain a sure foothold in the citadel of Protestant in-
tolerance. But, he says, the victory would be scarcely less
disastrous than defeat: "Thirty or forty years of instruction
by Protestant teachers, slowly, imperceptibly, patiently, perhaps
in many cases unconsciously, infusing into their young disciples
an anti- Catholic, or even an un-Catholic spirit, would do more
harm to the Catholic faith in Ireland, in my humble opinion,
than three hundred years of the Penal Code."
To expect a transformation of Trinity College, suflSciently
radical to render it a fitting place for Catholic youth, is, the
Doctor holds, impossible. The Protestantism of Trinity is of
too long growth, with roots too deep, to be eradicated, or ren-
dered harmless. In support of his assertion. Dr. Hogan pro-
ceeds to analyze the constitution of the University; and to
diagnose its spirit as expressed in various publications of its
* Irish Catholics and Trinity College. With Appendices. By the Rev. J. F, Hogan, D.D.,
Professor of St. Patrick's College, Maynooth. Dublin, Cork, and Belfast: Browne & Nolan.
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830 New Books [Sept.,
administration and professors. He shows very powerfully, by
this method, how Protestant influences — and it must be remem-
bered that Irish Protestantism means, in any of its corporate
forms, uncompromising, agressive, bigoted hostility to every-
thing Catholic — work through the Divinity School, the Provost,
the Vice- Provost, the governing body (Provost and Senior Fel-
lows, Senate, Council), through the Junior Fellows, the " Eras-
mus Smith '' Professors, and the special schools of Literature,
Philosopt}y, History, Law, and Medicine.
Some observations that the doctor makes regarding the in-
direct influence on Catholic students of the Divinity School
are well worth the attention of those on whose backs rests
the burden of safeguarding the faith of the rising genera-
tion of American Catholics who seek a university education.
It is true that the conditions in non- Catholic American uni-
versities are not quite so unfavorable as those of Trinity Col-
lege to the faith of Catholic students. In the former, the di-
vinity faculties do not tower over the entire institution ; and
their Protestantism, where any survives, is too ansmic to ex-
hibit any proselytizing vigor. But, instead, there is an all-
pervading, insidious spirit of agnosticism and rationalism, which
is all the more to be dreaded because its easy, tolerant, good-
natured mien is less likely to arouse in the Catholic the fight-
ing mood which direct attacks on his religion are sure to in-
spire. Says Dr. Hogan : " In Trinity College, Catholic stu-
dents would be cut off from the clergy of their own Church,
and made to associate with the clergy, ecclesiastical students,
and professors of a Church which is working might and main
for the overthrow and annihilation of their own. They would,
ever afterwards, be inclined to associate all learning, knowledge,
and refinement with the clergy of another creed, and to look
down upon and despise their own. It is not in vain that all
these subtle influences, often intangible, imperceptible, unseen,
would be allowed to have free play on their hearts and con-
sciences, as well as on their minds, during their most critical
and impressionable years." With a few textual changes, sub-
stituting rationalism and agnosticism for Protestantism, in the
above definition of a hypothetical condition in Ireland, we have
the statement of an actual one at home. The following passage
needs no modification to suit it for home application: "What
wonder, then, that some, at least, of those who, taking upon
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i9o6.] New BOOKS .831
themselves all responsibility, submit themselves to these and
similar hostile forces, should come forth full of arrogant and
supercilious condescension towards their own brethren and pas-
tors, and that they should, not rarely, pass from the attitude
of bare toleration to one of petty annoyance and open war-
fare ? " The great stream of young American Catholics who
are exposing themselves to become examples of this assertion
is yearly swelling. Meanwhile the staunch friends and sup-
porters of the national Catholic University may be counted on
one*s fingers.
The advocates of the plan which Dr. Hogan repudiates cite,
in support of it, the German universities where, amid a con-
course of Catholic and non- Catholic students, the religious
rights of the former are effectively protected. But, contends
Dr. Hogan, there is no parity between German and Irish con-
ditions. In Germany the number of the universities is large
and varied, so Catholics may choose. The residential system
not being in vogue, the influence of fashion and corporate
opinion is not felt; and, as the result of a long struggle, the
German Catholics have secured a sort of balance, while the
Minister of Education sees to it that the Catholics get fair play.
We must congratulate Dr. Hogan on having delivered a very
destructive criticism against the scheme which he attacks, and
of having demonstrated that, even in Ireland, strong things,
on burning topics, may be said, and uncompromising opinions
stated, without infringing the laws of fairness and courtesy.
Besides the service which it renders directly to the cause in
which it has been issued, this pamphlet is an extremely useful
contribution to the literature of the Catholic education ques-
tion, because it sets forth, clearly and convincingly, in how
many ways various branches of study, that do not immediately
bear on religion, may be so conducted as to become the chan-
nel of influences pernicious to Catholic faith.
This volume* is written by a son
THE MENACE OF PRIVILEGE, of Henry George, whom America
By Henry George, Jr. honors as a noble type of lover
of his kind. The elder George
may have been in error, or his misfortune may have been to
• The Menace of Privilege, By Henry George, Jr. 1905. Pp. 421. New York : The
Macmillan Company.
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832 New Books [Sept.,
be ahead of his time. In any case, he is remembered with
undiminished respect as the years remove him quickly in-
to the memories of the past. One would expect that the son
would inherit the father's theories. The work to which refer-
ence is now made is, in fact, a plea for the single tax as the
one solution of our social wrongs. But the plea is minor, in a
way to allow the main contents of the book to stand as a com-
plete narrative.
After describing the United States as the land of inequal-
ity, the author describes the " Princes " whom privileges have
created among us, telling of their financial methods, morals,
luxury. The favored class, thus created, constitutes, in ten-
dency and wish, our aristocracy. Next, the author describes
the victims of privilege, the despoilment of the masses, their
physical, mental, and moral deterioration. The reaction against
privilege is, according to the author, found in organized labor,
whose dangers are described with some sharpness. Effort is
made to show that Privilege uses the courts to further its in-
terests, corrupts politics, national, state, and municipal, while
press, university, and pulpit are, it is alleged, at the service of
Privilege.
A general chapter, drawing lessons from history, leads the
reader to the final chapter, in which an appeal is made for
single tax as the single, natural, adequate remedy for the crime,
degradation, and suffering described.
We quote from the author's conclusion: "We have found
the unequal distribution of wealth, which so distracts public
and private life in the republic, to be due to Government
favors to individuals operating in all instances as if private
laws had been made expressly for their benefit. We have
seen the Government favors or privileges fall into four general
classes : monopolies of natural opportunities, tariff and other
taxes on production and its fruits, highway grants and incor-
poration powers, and immunities. We have seen that the first
two of these can be destroyed by shifting the entire weight of
taxation from production to land values, that highways should
be taken over, and that then would easily follow simplified
processes of incorporation and modified judicial practices."
No writer need draw on his imagination to paint a gloomy
picture of pur times. Optimist and pessimist are differentiated
rather by interpretations than by facts. The author in this
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i9o6.] New Books 833
case, has given a reliable narrative of depressing facts, but men
will differ from him and among themselves in their interpreta-
tions. The reviewer feels that there is truth enough in the
chapters to protect the author against very sharp criticism.
Ultra- conservative persons may bemoan the emphasis placed on
social evils, but it is useless to laugh them away or belittle
their significance.
There are usually erroneous inferences in the wake of gen-
eralizations concerning social conditions. When Mr. George
attempts to show that press, pulpit, and university are in
bondage to the interests which he attacks in the name of hu-
manity, he cites some facts and some expressions of view which
give a semblance of confirmation. But an indictment as sweep-
ing as that made, needs a mighty array of argument and an
imposing series of facts. These are missing. .The McGlynn
case, as Mr. George sees it, is sufficient in fact and argument
to support the insinuations against the Catholic Church which
the volume contains. That is poor logic and poorer history.
However, well-wishers of popular government and public
morality will welcome the volume. It is a challenge clothed
with dignity, as well as a plan of reform that is not devoid of
charm. If the work may serve to awaken the public seriously
to the tendencies which are so fraught with danger, one will
readily pardon the faults of logic and exaggerated inferences
which it contains.
Dr. Randolph McKim, of Wash-
THE PROBLEM OF THE ington, has published three lec-
PENTATEUCH. tures,* originally delivered before
By Dr. McEim. a theological seminary against the
Wellhausen theory of the compo-
sition of the Pentateuch. From the nature of the case an ade-
quate treatment of so vast a subject is impossible within the
limits to which Dr. McKim restricts himself, and doubtless
every serious reader who picks up this book will find that his
curiosity has been aroused rather than that his mind has been
set at rest. But, for its scope, this brief volume is fairly well
put together. It indicates the salient difficulties against Well-
hausen's position as to the late date of Deuteronomy and the
Priestly Code, and makes a show of answering the arguments
♦ The Problem of the Pentateuch. By Dr. Randolph H. McKim. New York : Longmans,
Green & Co.
VOL. LXXXIII.— 53
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834 NEW BOOKS [Sept.,.
adduced in favor of that position. Dr. McKim's negative work,,
that is to say his criticism of the dubious features of Well-
hausen's hypothesis, is the best portion of his book It was
^Iso the easiest part of his task, for negative criticism is always
easier than constructive criticism. Indeed, Dr. McKim gives
us very little that is constructive. His study would have been
twice as valuable if he had attended to this side of the case a
little more extensively, and offered . us some sort of theory of
Pentateuchal composition, and of the development of Judaic
legalism. We desire this all the more curiously because Dr.
McKim hints now and then that he accepts a modified docu-
mentary theory himself and is inclined to put some restrictions
to Mosaic authorship.
Difficulties of course there are in the hypothesis associated
with the name of Wellhausen, but where are there not xlif&cul*^
ties ? It hardly refutes modern criticism to point out its short-
comings. What of its arguments, its general theory of devel-
opment, its assault upon the traditional view ? We do not
blame Dr. McKim for not adequately treating all this in three
short lectures. We only wish that, when he came to publish,
he had expanded his original addresses so as to cover the
ground somewhat better.
Whatever may become of the current critical opinion of the-
Pentateuch or Hexateuch, the question is shifting nowadi^s
from a literary to an historico- comparative one. The apologist
for the Bible must henceforth turn his chief attention to the
new province opened out to us by recent Babylonian, Egyp-
tian, and Persian investigations, and must base his defence
largely upon data furnished by the comparative study of reli-
gion. Wellhausen and his co-workers in the inner analysis of
the Hebrew literature, are yielding to Zimmern, Winckler, Gun*
kel, Boklen, and other students of ancient Babylon and Per-
sia. And assuredly the assaults of these latter are more seri-
ous than what has gone before. Christian apologetics still await
a capable defence against them.
The author of this very commend-
6REAT CATHOLIC LAYMEN, able volume * has chosen a happy
By Horgan. motto for his title page : ** Is ex-
ample nothing? It is everything.
Example is the school of mankind, and they will learn at no-
• Great Catholic Laymen, By John J. Horgan. New York : Benziger Brothers.
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 835
other." So said that profound anatomist of human nature,
Edmund Burke. It is this truth that has been the motive of
the Church in providing for her people, duripg every age,
lives of her saints; and, it would be mere platitude to descant
upon the immense value which such writings have be^n to her
in the instruction of the people unto justice. The story of the
lives of the men and women who have been conspicuous, for
heroic sanctity has, in countless instances, evoked the resolu-
tion to imitate them. Cum isti et istce cur non ego? Are
Catholics to-day, that is, the men and women of the world,
zealous to avail themselves of this source of edification ? It is
not here that such a question can be answered, however brief-
ly. There is one thing, however, that can be said without
risk. There are many men who never think of reading the
lite of a canonized saint, or a great theologian, who would
willingly, and with profit, read the biography of some great
Catholic layman. Yet, in English at least, biographies of this
kind are almost non-existent. While hundreds of pious pens
are ever busy providing for the priest and the religious fresh
lives of the great saints, scarcely one ever turns his attention
to the needs of the layman, who is far more likely to be at-
tracted to, and stimulated by, the story of some one who has
lived in the world that he himself lives in, and has fought the
fight of faith and justice in conditions not absolutely dissimi-
lar from those that surround himself. We have Heroes of the
Nations series; and English Men of Letters^ Lives of the Phi-
losophers, and dozens of other collections of a secular type.
We have Lives of the Saints innumerable; bul we have few, if
any. Lives of Catholic Laymen^ written not exclusively from the
hagiological standpoint. For this reason, we welcome the ap-
pearance of this volume from the pen of a young, professional
layman ; not alone on account of its intrinsic value, but also
as a first plant of what we hope will yet prove to be an abun-
dant crop of an intellectual grain that, though valuable, has
not hitherto been cultivated.
The subjects have been judiciously selected. Each one gives
us the picture of a man whose life was a shining light, a source
of glory to the Church and of practical inspiration to his fel-
low-men: Andreas Hofer, Gabriel Garcia Moreno, Frederic Oza-
nam, Montalembert, Frederic Lucas, Windthorst, Louis Pasteur,
and, "the greatest is behind," Daniel 0*Connell. Mr Horgan
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is master of his facts, and of a simple, correct, pleasing style.
The literary quality of the work is good. In the interest of
the reader, as well as of the writer, we heartily wish this ex-
cellent volume Bon Voyage^ and trust that we may soon see
others of a similar character soon follow in its wake.
The Abb^ Dimnet's studies on the
CATHOLIC THOUGHT IN chief Catholic thinkers of England
ENGLAND. makeup a book •of extraordinary
By Abbe Dimnet. brilliance and depth. In six chap-
ters this acute Frenchman dis-
cusses the intellectual and spiritual wotk of Wiseman, New*
man, Tyrrell, Lilly, Barry, and Wilfrid Ward — men for the
most part so thoroughly English in temperament and idiom as
to make it unusually hard for a foreigner to appreciate the
finer shades of their thought; and yet, as we lay the book
aside, we find ourselves wondering if any keener analysis of
their writings has ever appeared. Some of M. Dimnet's pages
attain the excellence of classical criticism ; and in his interpret
tation of the relation between the great men of whom he writes
and the spirit of the age, he displays a penetration of judg-
ment and a comprehensiveness of mind, which give him a place
among the best Catholic thinkers of our time. He thoroughly
understands both the religious problems now pressing upon us,
and the antecedent conditions from which those problems have
arisen. Philosophy and criticism he has studied well, and in
many a moving page he describes their assault upon orthodox
belief and their challenge to the Christian student of to day.
And with this large outlook he takes up these six Catholic
thinkers of England, places them in juxtaposition to the move-
ments of modern thought, and estimates their achievements,
their shortcomings, and their value to the earnest Christian
believer who is looking for adequate solutions, legitimate adap-
tations, intellectual and spiritual peace.
We cannot here give a detailed account cf M. Dimnet's
judgment on these six men. SufHce it to say that he regards
them all as more or less representative of one type of thought.
They all, in his opinion, manifest a certain dissatisfaction
with traditional expositions of Catholicity, and lean toward a
* La Pemie Catholique dans VAngleterre Contemporaine. Par Ernest Dimnet. Paris:
Victor Lecoffre.
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I906.] NEW BOOKS 837
new portrayal of fai:.h, which shall show forth the beauty of
Catholicity to this age better than it had been shown by strict
schoolmen and syllogistic scholastics. The vitality of religion, its
fitness for the whole nature of man, its necessity as a stimulus to
the full realization of our human possibilities, its sanctifying oi
the affections, its safeguarding of conscience, its response to our
innate hopes and aspirations — this, says the Abb^ Dimnet, is
what we need to have brought home to us, and this is what
the age needs as, in fact, the only apologetic it will now listen
to; and this in diverse ways has been either foreshadowed or
openly taught by these great Catholic spokesmen of the nine-
teenth and early twentieth century. In the development of this
idea our author, as we have already said, lets fall many bril-
liant suggestions, and points out many a solemn lesson for
those who have religion's welfare at heart. Few books will
give the reader a better understanding of the grave issues that
now confront us, and of the kind of men that can competently
meet them.
The author of this book* spent
A TEACHER IN THE PHIL- about three years in the Philip.
IPPINES. pines; part of the time as a pri-
By W. B. Freer. mary school-teacher in northern
Luzon, the rest as a supervisor of
schools in the southern end of the island. His story, told with
a simplicity that recalls Robinson Cfusoe^ conveys a more vivid
and life like picture of life among the Filipinos than is to be
found in more pretentious volumes. The author recounts, with
diary-like directness, the incidents of his travel from Manila
to the small town of Solano, where he took charge of the gov-
ernment schooL Afterwards he tells of the nature of his work,
his method of teaching English, his relations with the people,
their modes oi life, the things that they ate, the songs that
they sung, their entertainments and religious celebrations, their
good qualities, and their failings. On the latter point Mr.
Freer has much less to say than some others who have under-
taken to enlighten the American nation upon the qualities and
character of its brown Pacific ward. Mr. Freer brought to his
work a spirit of kindly sympathy for the people among whom
he was sent. And he seems to have been well repaid with the
• The Philippine Expetiences of an American Teacher, A Narrative of Work and Travel
in the Philippine Islands. By William B. Freer. New York : Charles Scribner's Sons.
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838 New Books [Sept.,
affection and respect of his pupils and neighbors. It does one
good to read his frequent tributes to the courtesy, inteUigecce
kindliness, and loyalty that came under his notice. Unfavor-
able criticisms are rare in his pages, and there is no trace of
those airs of the superior person describing an inferior race,
that are only too frequent in some books of Filipino travel.
The impression left by Mr. Freer's narrative is that American
influences are making their way in the islands, slowly but surely,
to the advantage of the natives. His opinion is the more val-
uable, for the reason that his experiences have been gathered not
in Manila, with its mixed population, and almost cosmopolitan
character, but in remote quarters, where native conditions pre-
vail. He abstains, usually, from indulging in generalizations
and inferences, preferring rather to lay facts before his reader.
He has only one opinion to advocate to Americans at home:
it is, that the Filipino is not yet fit, and for many years to
come will not be fit, for self-government. He brings his bock
to a close with the relation of an incident concerning a bird
which, after being kept in a cage, was released, only to be half
killed by some wild crows, from which it was rescued by its for-
mer master, Don Fulgencio. This gentleman finds a parallel be-
tween his pajaro de siete colores — bird of seven colors — ar.d his
countrymen. "We are well off, but we are thinking of free-
dom ; continually sticking our heads through the bars. We fancy
we want independence. There may be crows hovering about
that we know not of — maybe Germany, maybe Japan. For the
present, we are well off, let us be content in the cage." " And,"
concludes Mr. Freer, taking leave of his readers, " as I walked
to the school I reflected that the same object-lesson would be
beneficial to some of my brother Americans — to those well-
meaning, but mistaken, friends, whom we call anti- imperialists,
could they but understand that the Filipino is now no more
able to take care of himself than was Don Fulgencio's bird."
The translator of this minor work*
BALZAC. of the great French critic has done
By Taine. his original into easy, flowing Eng-
lish, which retains the clearness of
the French, The exquisite aroma of French prose, alas! never
* Baltac: A Critical Study by Hippolyte Adolpht Taine. Translated, with an Apprecia-
tion of Taine, by Lorenzo O'Rourke. NewVork : Funk & Wagnalls Company.
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i9o6.] New Books 839
survives the process of decantation into Eoglish bottles, no
matter how skillful the hand that performs the operation. Mr.
O'Rourke's contribution to original criticism, which he presents
as an introduction to the translation, contains a fairly accurate
estimate of the literary character of Taine, and furnishes a
short sketch of the life of a man whose personality is but little
known to thousands that are familiar with his literary reputa-
tion. "Taine," writes Mr. O'Rourke, "is the type and em-
bodiment of that form of materialistic determination which the
definitive overthrow of the old ideas by historical criticism,
comparative philology, and the modern conception of evolu-
tion, established to so large an extent in the learned world."
A conscientious commentator of this text would append a note
here, to the effect that the vogue enjoyed, two or three de-
cades ago, by Taine's deterministic doctrine has, to a great
extent, ceased in the learned world. Though Taine's History
of English Literature continues, and will long continue, to oc-
cupy a very exalted place in the world of letters, yet the cen-
tral principle of its author, which would trace the genesis of
" Paradise Lost," " Hamlet," " Don Juan," Macaulay's England,
etc., etc., to British beef and turnips and northern fogs, now
provokes a smile or a wink, such as people exchange as they
listen to a theorist running his hobby to death. The philoso-
phy condensed in Taine's epigram, '* Vice and virtue are pro-
ducts like vitriol and sugar," is among the creeds that have
had their day, and ceased to be.
Mr. O'Rourke's dissecting knife cuts very cleanly into the
complexus of tissues that make up Taine's style, in the follow-
ing passages : " What Taine possessed was a constructive imagi-
nation. He was denied the rarest gift. This is the reason that
his letters and his personality are rather uninteresting, while
his scientific and literary productions vibrate with interest. The
descriptions of natural scenery which abound in his works, and
his descriptions in general, are often catalogues, and sometimes
tiresome catalogues." "His scenery is not nature; it is a her-
barium lit by electricity. The magic, the sArcery of words,
that indefinable, subtle, and inspiring essence which is the soul
of poetry, and which lies beyond the reaches of chemistry, is
non-existent in Taine." "In reading him," but this is Amiel,
not Mr. O'Rourke, "I have a painful sensation — something
like the grinding of pulleys, the click of machines, the smell
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840 New Books [Sept.
of the laboratory. His style reeks of chemistry and technol-
ogy ; it is inexorably scientific." But, " in spite ot ' his lack
of the poetic faculty, he is able to astonish us at will by his
brilliant paradox and wizardry of words. Certain passages re-
mind us of a brightly uniformed army marching with stream-
ing banners and glittering bayonets to the strains of martial
music."
Mr. O'Rourke has placed his meritorious piece of criticism
at a great disadvantage by putting it in such close juxtaposi-
tion with Taine's estimate of Balzac. One cannot help con-
trasting the two studies. Then one must ask why did not
the translator take a hint from his master, and by apt citations
from the author's works, illustrate his own points, justify
his judgments, and delight his readers? But, perhaps, Mr.
0*Rourke's answer would be that his purpose of merely offer-
ing an introductory sketch precluded an elaborate treatment ol
the subject.
We lay down this little book •
THE CISTERCIAN ORDER, with a feeling of genuine admira^
tion for the modesty of the writer
who, under the veil of anonymity, would escape the honor
which it wins for him. To compress into a hundred small
pages a worthy exposition of the nature and spirit of monasti-
cism, an account of the rise of the great religious orders, a
brilliant historical sketch of the Benedictine community and its
Cistercian offshoot, giving a glimpse of the glories of Monte
Cassino, Subiaco, Citeaux, La Trappe, Clairvaux, Mellifont,
Melrose, and Tintern, with all that these names recall, a faith-
ful picture of Cistercian daily life, and, finally, to show the
continuity which unites the great monasteries of the past with
Gethsemane in Kentucky, and our Lady of the Valley in
Rhode Island — this task done, with skill and taste, is one in
which the writer might take an honorable pride. He has fur-
nished a book that will afford edification to Catholics, and will,
certainly, help to remove the prejudice, and the distorted no-
tions that prevail among outsiders regarding the nature and
moral value of the monastic life.
• The Cistercian Order: Its Object, Its Rule, By a Secular Priest. Cambridge: The
Riverside Press.
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Current Events.
The immediate future of Russia is
Russia. still in the highest degree uncer-
tain: the outlook seems to grow
darker and darker. In the Manifesto issued by the Tsar for
the dissolution of the Duma his Imperial Majesty gave expres-
sion to his belief " that giants in thought and action will appear
and that, thanks to their assiduous efforts, the glory of Russia
will continue to shine." It would be a relief in these days,
in which none but mediocrities abound, if such* giants would
arise, and certainly Russia stands in more need of them than
any other nation; but there is no sign of their appearance.
On the contrary, there seems to be such widespread and deep-
seated distrust and suspicion, as to threaten the dissolution of
society and a reversion to barbarism, or to a rule of brute
force worse than barbarism. The only thing that seems to
be powerful is the soldiery — a soldiery that flogs defenceless
women for the utterance of scornlul words.
In the same Manifesto the Tsar confirms his immutable
intention of keeping the Duma as an institution of the Empire,
and even appoints a date — March 5, 1907 — for the meeting of
the newly- elected body. He declares that he is bent — un-
shakably bent — on reforms, especially the reform of the lot of
the peasants by the enlargement of their lands, but by legal
and honest means. Great distrust, however, is felt, not so
much of his will as of his power. One of the few officials
who did good and honest service during the Russo-Japanese
War, Prince Khilkoff, who has personally known the Tsar for
fourteen years, and has worked with him, asserts that the
Tsar is himself very Liberal, and is sincerely desirous of
having a Parliamentary regime. He has frequently heard his
Majesty declare that he was ready to give everything, his
blood if need be, for the people's happiness and the country's
weal. Is he ready to sacrifice any of the absolutist preroga-
tives, the exercise of which has brought the country to such a
pass ? Personally he may be, but he is in the hands of the
stronger and more selfish personalities behind the scene, who
so often control, from a position of irresponsibility, the actions
of the single autocratic ruler. It is the influence of these that.
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842 Current Events [Sept.,
in the opinion of one of the most distinguished authorities on
Slav affairs — M. Anatole Leroy-Beaulieu — led to the dissolu-
tion of the Duma, The proposal to expropriate the lands of
private proprietors, although with compensation, frightened the
Grand Dukes, for the greater part of their wealth consists in
landed property. Expropriation of land is not a novel pro«
ceeding in Russia. When the serfs were emancipated, in 1861,
a distribution was made. Since that time the number of the
peasants has doubled, and a further distribution is of the ut-
most necessity. The cry of the peasants is now not for liberty
alone, but for land and liberty; and if they realise that the
avarice of Gr&nd Dukes stands in the .way of .what is necessary
to their well-being, the support which they have hitherto ac-
corded to the Tsar may be withdrawn ; and as he has already
lost the good will of the workmen in the towns, the only re-
liance of the Throne will be upon the Army. How far can he
rely upon that? The . suppression of the mutiny in Finland
makes it more probable than it was thought before that its
allegiance can be depended upon, notwithstanding outbreaks
which have taken place, several before and a few since. But
nothing definite, can be said. Prince Kbilkoff looks upon a
dictatorship as absurd, and the shots fired at one of the ru-
mored dictators, the Grand Duke Nicholas, by the soldiers of
the Imperial Guard, may render it difficult to find a person
ready to undertake such an office. At all events, no such ap-
pointment has been made at the time these lines are written.
M. Stolypin, in trying to find associates ^ to co-operate with
him in governing the country against its people, sought, at first,
assistance outside bureaucratic ranks. At one time there were
hopes that Conservative reformers, like Count Heyden and M.
Nicholas Lvoff, would give this assistance; but the Sveaborg
mutiny, and the strength it has given to the reactionaries, have
led them to decide not to take part in such an attempt, and
the Premier, thereupon, has sought and found help from avowed
reactionaries — men committed to repression. On entering into
office he had declared his intention of carrying out strong-
handed reforms; in his most recent declaration, while still prom-
ising reforms, he says that force is the only visible way of
fighting the revolution, and that too great liberty has hitherto
been accorded to the press. The election of a new Duma,
however, is not yet excluded from his programme.
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A new party has been formed which hopes to stave off
Revolution on the one hand» and to destroy Absolutism on the
other — to create, in fact, a Constitutional Monarchy. This
party looks to the formation of a government which is not ar-
bitrary, to the destruction of the old order of things. The
Manifesto of the 30th of October is to be carried into effect. '
Compulsory expropriation is recognized as legitimate within
certain limits. The needs of the people, this Party holds, can
only be satisfied by avoiding violence and by obedience to
law, and, therefore, it counsels, as a means for the establish-
ment of the better order of the future, absolute submission to
the Tsar's action in dissolving the Duma^ and urges upon the
people the expediency of patiently waiting for the new Duma.
Of this party of Peaceful Regeneration Count Heyden, M.
Nicholas Lvoff, and M. Michael Stakovich are the most distin-
guished member^. What the strongest party iti the dissolved
Duma^ the Constitutional Democrats, will do is still uncertain.
A large number of them signed the Viborg address to the
people, calling upon them not to pay taxes nor to Enlist as
soldiers. This, however, was done rather against the will of
many even of those' who signed. The course to be taken is
to be discussed at a meeting which was to be held near the
end of August. But a question of greater importance is:
What will th^ peasants do ? The hopes which they have long
entertained for an increase of their holdings— hopes which
seemed on the point of realization — have been dashed to the
ground by the dissolution of the Duma. Will they accept the
situation with peaceful resignation ? They have been appealed
to by their own representatives in the dissolved Duma not to
pay taxes nor to enlist as soldiers. Will they listen to that
appeal ? Will they, giving up all hope of getting land by fair
means, have recourse to violence? A great change has ccme
over the attitude of the peasant. "We do not recognize our
peasants," is the testimony of Russian landlords, "they have
changed completely since the elections to Duma,'* The servile
moujik has blossomed into a fiery devotee of freedom. The
most recent news is to the effect that already in some parts
of Russia they have had recourse to violence, fighting like
beasts and repulsing the Cossacks. There are forty millions of
adult male peasants in European Russia, and of those thirty-
seven millions have not sufficient land to sustain themselves
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844 Current Events [Sept.,
and their families. The land is there, but in the possession of
large proprietors, badly cultivated, and not put to any ade-
quate use. If the peasants make up their minds to put an
end to this state of things, the government has no more than
half a million of mercenaries, including those necessary for
garrisons and for the cities, with which to compel submission.
That the soldiers will fire upon their own kith and kin is
doubtful, however willing they may be to do so when called
upon in the case of Poles, Jews, or others of the various na-
tionalities in the Russian Empire.
Another great problem is that with reference to finance.
The deficit in this year's Budget is estimated at one hundred
millions of dollars not covered by the last loan. Large sums
of money are required in addition, in order to give relief to
the large districts suffering from famine. People able to judge
look upon a large foreign loan as necessary in the immediate
future. What security, after the dissolution of the Duma^ is
there for such a loan? Twenty-seven millions for the relief of
famine has, by the latest accounts, been virtually commandeered
from the State Savings Banks. When news of the dissolution of
the Duma was received, the Russian Fours, which fell after the
battle in the Sea of Japan to 70, went down even lower, to 67^.
They have risen since then, but do not stand much higher than
they stood after the great naval disaster. The prospects of a
loan, therefore, are not brilliant. How soon order will be
evolved out of the chaos caused by long- continued oppression
and injustice no one is temerarious enough to predict. Per-
haps the fact that the universal strike, which had been called
by the Social Democrats, has proved a failure indicates that the
main body of the people wishes to have more time for thought
and reflection, and place their hopes in more moderate meas-
ures, or in a more thorough preparation for the revolution.
Very little has to be recorded
Germany. about German affairs. Although
the best disciplined country in the
world, it shares with the country which is, perhaps, the least
disciplined, in the misfortune of being badly served by corrupt
and self-seeking members of the community. Officials of the
Colonial department have been visited with uell desetved chas-
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i9o6.] Current Events 847
their shops looted, many murders committed and houses burned.
The government has been called upon to expel the Greek
clergy from Bulgaria, to boycott Greek trade, and to break off
all diplomatic relations. The Sultan's policy triumphs all along
the line. Christians being arrayed against Christians, and hating
one another more than they hate the common oppressor of
them all.
The Cretan question has been raised again. The somewhat
arbitrary government of Prince George, the High Commissioner,
and the desire of annexation to Greece, led some time ago to
great discontent and to a revolt in the western district. The
protecting Powers, England, France, Russia, and Italy, inter-
vened, and appeased the trouble for the time being by prom-
ising to prepare a scheme of reforms. This scheme has at last
been published ; it is, however, considered altogether inade-
quate, both by Greece and by the Cretans themselves. AK
though the scheme substitutes for the foreign forces at present
occupying the island a native Gendarmerie and militia under
Greek officers, and sanctions various reforms, it makes no
mention of the annexation to Greece, which is the one thing
which the Cretans have at heart. Instead of this it admon-
ishes them that every step towards the realization of national
aspirations must necessarily be subordinated to the establish-
ment of the maintenance of order and a stable regime. Both
Greece aiid Crete agree in rejecting the scheme, and Prince
George threatens to resign.
In the midst of so many events
France. that are disheartening in France,
it becomes all the more a duty to
record everything which makes for improvement and progress.
The non-observance of Sunday, so prevalent on the continent
in violation of the law of the Church, has led to visibly bad
effects upon the health of those who have had to work with-
out intermission. This led the French Senate some time ago
to pass a law rendering a weekly rest obligatory, and Sunday
was fixed for this day; the latter provision met with consider-
able opposition on the part of fanatical Anti- Clericals, who
looked upon it as an undue concession to religious feeling,
but the good sense of the majority of the Senators overbore
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848 Current Events [Sept.,
their opposition. The Lower House, before its adjournment
for the holidays, ratified the action of the Senate by a ma-
jority of 575 to one, and so Sunday rest is established by law
in France.
France and Switzerland have been on the verge of war —
commercial war. As this, however, sometimes leads to real
war, it is a matter for congratulation that the conflict has been
averted. The satisfaction felt is increased by the fact that, had
a war broken out, the danger was great that Switzerland would
have been brought into more intimate relations with France's
great opponent.
The Pan-Islamic movement, which is causing anxiety to
England with regard to Egypt, has affected regions under the
influence of France. A question has arisen with Turkey as to
the rights of the latter to a certain oasis named Janet in the
hinterland of Tripoli. Although Turkey denies the occupation
of this oasis by its troops — an occupation which would be
against the rights of France under the Anglo-French Agree*
ment of 1899 — the truth of this denial is doubted by the French
government, and Turkey has been warned that energetic action
will be taken, if necessary, in order to safeguard her rights.
The aggressive action of the Sultan on the oasis of Janet and
on Egypt has given additional strength to the entente cordiale
between England and France, as he has become the common
enemy of both. The character of the Pan- Islamic movement
cannot be better illustrated than by a quotation from a let-
ter sent to Lord Cromer during the recent crisis by an edu-
cated Moslem: "At the head of this letter I call you the Re-
former of Egypt. ... He must be blind who does not
see what the English have wrought to Egypt; the gates of
justice stand open to the poor, the streams flow through the
land and are not stopped at the order of the strong." But if
war should come between England and Abdul Hamid Khan,
then the call of the Sultan would be the call of the Faith;
and every follower of the Prophet must strike for the Faith,
though he looks in the face of* death and pulls down ruin upon
his country. *' Though the Khalif were hapless as Bayezid,
cruel as Murad, or mad as Ibrahim, he is the shadow of God."
This Pan Islamic movement, there is good reason to think, is
being propagated in all the Arabic countries, and is finding
expression in various points far distant one from another, ex-
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i9o6.] Current Events 849
tending even to West Africa. There are those who say that
it was in Europe that the [plan was prepared, and that it is
still receiving encouragement and support from the same
source.
The Holy Father has given his decision as to the practical
steps to be taken with reference to the formation of the asso-
ciations for divine worship required by the Separation Law;
but, as the reports received by the cable are incomplete and
uncertain, it is impossible to form a trustworthy opinion as to
the exact course upon which the Pope has decided. Mean^
while, certain utterances of the Archbishop of Bordeaux, Car-
dinal Lecot, are deserving of attention as an indication of the
recognition of the old truth that good may come out of evil.
The Separation Law, the Cardinal said, had certain positive
advantages, one of which was that it would bring the clergy
closer to the people, that, inasmuch as the priest would have
to depend upon them for his support, he would have to justify
by real services the subventions which he receives. Another
advantage was that by the rupture of the Concordat a verita-
ble shackle on the Church forged by Napoleon had been re-
moved.
There is reason to fear that a con-
Spain, flict between the Church and State
is on the point of breaking out in
Spain. The King, indeed, seems to be perfectly loyal to the
Church, and even devout, but he is one of the monarchs who
reigns but does not govern. Spain is under a parliamentary r/-
gitne^ and the people have a greater voice in the government than
they have in Germany. Hitherto, however, a somewhat pecu-
liar understanding has existed between the two chief parties,
that the one should give way to the other after a certain period
of power. The result has been that, by a series of mutual
concessions, the parties have become almost blended. Dissat-
isfaction has entered into the minds of not a few who are able
to make their voices heard, a call for the affirmation of distinct
principles has been made, and a period of conflict between
the Liberals, who are at present in office, and the Conservatives
seems imminent. Both parties are loyal to the sovereign, and
seem to be pleased by his marriage. The question at issue is
religious. There is a considerable dislike of the religious orders,
VOL. LXXXIII. — 54
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850 Current Events [Sept.,
especially since so many have come from France. They are
looked upon as foreign in their spirit, wanting in patriotism
and love of country. The new programme adopted by the more
advanced Liberals includes, therefore, measures for asserting
the right of the State to control religious communities by
bringing them under the ordinary fiscal and association laws,
for the granting of liberty of worship and of conscience, and
for certain political reforms, including that ol education, which
it is proposed to transfer to laymen. The question of the effects
of civil marriage and the administration of cemeteries was raised
some time ago. The proposals of the government are opposed
by many Liberals and, of course, by all Conservatives; but
those who have made them seem determined to carry them out
and to push matters even to the last extremity. In all proba-
bility an appeal to the country will soon be made, and whether
a conflict is to take place will be left to the voters to decide.
The meeting of the Second Hague
Arbitration and Armaments. Conference, which is to be held
next year, as well as the speeches
of the British Premier in favor of a limitation of armaments
and the reduction of the normal rate of increase of the English
Navy, have caused these questions to be widely discussed.
The Fourteenth Inter-Parliamentary Conference held in London,
in preparation for The Hague Peace Conference, was a notable
gathering attended by noteworthy circumstances. It consisted
of 500 members belonging to 22 different Parliaments, its meet-
ings were held in the Royal Gallery* of the House of Lords,
the members were welcomed by the British Premier in a very
remarkable speech; they took luncheon in Westminster Hall*
the luncheon was presided over by the Lord Chancellor of Eng-
land ; Mr. W. J. Bryan, possibly the next president of the United
States, addressed one of the meetings, and a deputation of its
members was received by the King. An almost pathetic incident
was found in the fact that the men who left St. Petersburg as
representatives of the Duma^ the newest of Parliaments, when
they arrived in London found that that body had ceased to
exist. They would not take their seats, but they were saluted
over and over again by the sympathetic cheers of the mem-
bers ; and the British Premier gave utterance to his outspoken
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i9o6.] Current EVENTS 851
sympathy: "The Duma is dead; long live the Duina^\' an
exclamation which nearly all the world applauded, although
there were some who blamed it as indiscrete.
The movement in favor of arbitration has made remarkable
progress. Twenty years ago its advocates were looked upon
by some as amiable, by others as pernicious fools. After a while
benevolent tolerance was extended to them. At the present
time, although their plans have not been universally adopted,
arbitration has become an accepted means of settling many
forms of dispute, and the prospect is that its scope will be
more widely extended. There are no fewer than 38 arbitra-
tion agreements at present in existence between different powers.
And while there is no prospect of disarmament, there is a
possibility of a limitation of armaments. One great Power
stands in the way, however, and while one opposes, the diffi-
culty is insurmountable; it is not within the power of unre-
generate human nature for either the nation or the individual
to become defenceless in the presence of an enemy. The Pan-
American Congress, held at Rio de Janeiro, unanimously signed
a document which ratifies the adhesion of the Congress to the
principle of arbitration. The ' document recommends that the
Pan-American delegates to The Hague Conference be instructed
to support any proposal for a universal arbitration agreement.
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jForeion Ipetiobicals.
The Tablet (14 July): An anonymous writer has published an
open letter to Pius X., in which he affirms that the most
competent archaeologists are persuaded that the tomb of
St. Peter does not exists or that, if it does, it has been
long since robbed and desecrated. He calls upon the
Holy Father to end all dispute by excavating that part
of the crypt where the tomb is supposed to be. Two
distinguished scholars, Professor Marrucchi and Fr. Gri-
sar, SJ., have oflfered learned replies refuting the above
statements.
(21 July): Mr. Wilfrid Ward contributes an article en-
titled: "Newman through French Spectacles." He de-
clares it to be an unkind fate which has brought it
about that some of Newman's subtlest essays have late-
ly been freely canvassed and described by foreigners, to
whom the finer shades of meaning are necessarily im-
perfectly visible. Such misreprcsentaticn has led to far
more serious consequences than those attaching to mere
literal inaccuracy, e g,^ the Bishop of Nancy has de-
nounced the Essay on Development as dangerous. Mr.
Ward especially points out the imperfect kind of medium
through which the views of Newman become known to
the French public Quotations are oflfered, especially
from M. Michaud and even from M. Br^mond, which
amply justify the writer's adverse criticism.
(28 July): The Biblical Commission has given answers
to five important questions concerning the Pentateuch.
National Review (Aug.) : Episodes of the Month treats, among
other matters, the question of England's government of
the Boers and the Transvaal. It includes also a signifi-
cant paragraph on the Ritual Commission. The Na»
tional says : " It rests with the Bishops to extirpate the
practices which have caused so much scandal to all who
regard the Church of England as having ceased to form
part of the Church of Rome since the Reformation."
"A Plea for Maintaining our Battleship Programme,"
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i9o6.] FOREIGN Periodicals 853
by Arthur Lee, is a protest against the rumors that the
Government has decided to effect a serious reduction in
the shipbuilding programme. "A Visit to the Chica-
go Stock-Yards," by Adolphe Smith, is a chapter of
horrors. ** Prussia and Germany in the Nineteenth
Century," is treated by Professor Meinecke. ** Two
Poet Laureates on Life," is a comparative study of Ten-
nyson's " In Memoriam " and Austin's " The Door of
Humility." Mr. Mallock reads Mr. Austin a severe
lecture on the art of versification and expression, but
adds that Austin '' equals and probably excels Lord
Tennyson in his general conception of what great poetry
is." E. N. Morris writes on "The Opsonic Treat-
ment and Tuberculosis." A. Maurice Low, in " Ameri-
can Affairs," writes: "There is a Catholic on the bench
of the Supreme Court; ... in no country in the
world is there such toleration for religious belief and
respect for religion as in the United States, and yet no
party to day would nominate a professed Catholic for
the Presidency. To one who is not a Catholic, but who
knows how much America is indebted to the Catholic
Church, and that the voice of the Church has always
been on the side of law and order and resp.^'.ct for con-
stituted authority, this is incomprehensible." "The
Ups and Downs of Pictur-s Prices," by W. Roberts, gives
some interesting and valuable data.
The Dublin Review (July): Dr. Barry opens with an article
on " Our Latin Bibles," not, however, confining himself
to the ** Vulgate," but devoting some pages to an his-
torical investigation of the origin of the chief founda-
tion of the Vulgate, the so-called Vetus Itala, He ac-
cepts, and tries to prove briefly, what he calls, very
justly, the " fascinating theory " that the Vetus Itata
originated, not in Milan, as was formerly thought, nor
yet in Africa, as Wiseman endeavored to demonstrate,
but — strange indeed — at Antioch. He prefers, there-
fore, to reject the misleading term Vetus Itata and sub-
stitute " Old Latin." The body of the article is an
historical narration of the interesting circumstances at-
tending the production of the Vulgate. Incidentally,
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854 FOREIGN Periodicals [Sept.,
Dr. Barry pays generous tribute to the ''austere and
maisculine" literary character of the Latin of St. Je-
rome's Opus Magnum. " Neither Tyndale nor Luther
. . . compare with Jerome. They are antiquated;
the Latin of the Vulgate remains unsubdued by years.
It claims all the privileges of a dead language, while
it lives on the lips of generations ever new. ^The
editor contributes a sketchy, interesting paper on Hen-
ry Sidgwick, the ''enthusiastic doubter," the paradox-
ical person who could criticise without sneering, and
sympathize generously with an intellectual theory be-
fore annihilating it. An anonymous article on " Cath-
olic Social Effort in France," points to the probable
fact that the Church in that strangely unfortunate
country, having lost her official position, will regain and
even increase her influence through social works, for it
is believed by many shrewd observers that the present
restlessness and apparent trend to infidelity are caused
fundamentally by the intolerable social condition of the
masses of the people. Dom Chapman writes the first
of two papers on the eternal question of the Condemna-
tion of Pope Honorius. He claims to have a new light
on the " inner sequence of events." He endeavors to
establish the case that though " the authenticity of the
documents is now above suspicion," yet that fact is unim-
portant, since nowadays " no one is likely to teach that
Honorius published his famous letters ex cathedral The
real question is, in view of the condemnation, what idea
had the Eastern bishops of papal infallibility ? The writer
is going to show, by an appeal directly to the docu-
ments, that they had no different idea than had the
Romans.
The Hibbert Journal (July) : Sir Oliver Lodge, writing on " First
Principles of Faith," says that the nation, in despair at
an entanglement, may take refuge against its will in a
purely secular system of State education. This would be
unsatisfactory ; a mechanical uniformity is worthless. A
concurrence of effort for the amelioration and spirituali-
zation of human life, in the light of a common gospel
and a common hope, is not impossible. There is a mass
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I906.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 855
of fundamental material on which the great majority are
really agreed. Familiarize children up to the age of
say thirteen with this, during school hours, and leave dis-
tinctive coloring to other influences operating both then
and later. He offers a sort of a btief catechism of this
fundamental material, based on scientific knowledge and
leading up to a religious creed.— —Canon Knox Little
says that the intention of the present Education Bill is
to endow undenominationalism as a new religion, it is a
State- made religion, but not Christianity. An appeal
is made by H. A. Garnett for the separation of the
creeds of the Church of England from the worship.
''The Teaching of the Christian Religion in Public
Schools," by the Rev. H. B. Gray, D.D., puts forward
as a postulate that the first and the last aim of the re-
ligious teacher in public boarding schools is to press
home the truth that, though the Christian Gospel is
capable of doctrinal exposition, though it is eminently
fertile in moral results, yet its substance is neither a
dogmatic system nor an ethical code, but a person and
a life. Professor Henry Jones concludes his series with
an article on " The Coming of Socialism." The concep-
tion of private property is analyzed. Ownership of
utilities is the essence of property. Property is never a
merely material fact. Full agreement as to the exclu-
sive relation of the private and the public will, and the
direct antagonism of private and public rights of owner-
ship — such is the attitude of both Individualists and So-
cialists. The problem is a question of the rights of
personality. The saying '' Socialism is upon us " is true
in the sense that the method of organized communal
enterprise is more in use : yet the individual's sphere of
action has not been limited ; the functions of the State
and the individual have grown together. The need of
moralizing our social relations is paramount; every
other reform will come as a matter of course. Confu-
sion between the order of thought and the order of ex-
istence is pointed out by D. H. Macgregor as the great
fallacy of Idealism. "Why not Face the Facts," by
the Rev. K. C. Anderson, D.D., asserts that the pre-
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856 FOREIGN PERIODICALS [Sept.,
suppositions of the theology of the churches conflict
with the presupposition of development which the mod-
ern mind applies to all things. The call is loud and
clear for the churches to bring their teaching into har-
mony with modern science.
Le Correspondant (lo July): The latest life of Fra Giovanni
Angelico, written by Henry Cochin, is reviewed by P.
Thureau-Dangin, and given an extensive notice. No
one could be more aptly chosen, the reviewer states, to
write such a work than M. Cochin.^ Knowing the his-
tory of the Italian Renaissance as he does, he ap-
proached his task as a master, combining with rigorous
precision and pious delicacy modern erudition. M«
de Barral-Monteferrat writes on President Castro and
the conflict between France and Venezuela. In "The
Economic Life and the Social Movement," M. A. B^chaux,
amongst other notes, discusses one of the latest social
movements in France, namely the movement taken by
the Social League of Buyers to better the conditions of
the lodging houses of the servants of Paris.
(25 July): Norbert Lalli^ writes at length on the law
which received quite a good deal of discussion in the
French Parliament during the last session — the law
which makes Sunday a day of rest throughout France.
In ** Our Artillery " the writer states that that por-
tion of the French army is badly disorganized. Combes,
Pelletan, Andr^, had eyes for nothing but what was
known as the clerical peril. The Dreyfus affair was
employed by the radical Socialists as the best means to
disorganize the army. Provision must be made for re-
organization. No time should be lost.
£,tudes (5 July) : A. d'Ales reviews at length the Lausiac His-
tory of Palladius. In his second article on "Episco-
pal Elections," Jules Doize describes the manner of
election in the time of the Carolingians.-^— A. Condamin
finds Baruch iv. 5-v. 9 a remarkable piece of poetry,
and shows its poetical value. The celebration at Rouen
apropos of the third centenary of Corneille is treated ex-
tensively by Charles de la Porte G. Longhaye de-
scribes A. Dumas, Jr., whose person, works, and preten-
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i9o6.] FOREIGN Periodicals 857
sions make him a moralist of the highest type. ^J.
Svensson pictures the life and work of Henrik Ibsen.
The conclusion that he comes to is that the "great ma-
gician of the North " is impenetrable.
(20 July) : In an article on mysticism Lucien Roure aims
to show that this religious fact is really religious and
not a mere ecstasy, or, as some psychologists say, hys-
terics. Joseph Boub^e gives us the French view of
the English school trouble. In his study of the conflict
he first describes its origin, then discusses the new law,
and finally the bill in its relation to the English churches,
Catholic and Protestant. A. Aur^le reviews the fifth
volume of Baumgartner's History of Universal Literature ;
which volume is concerned entirely with French Litera-
ture.
La Quinzaine: Dr. Marcel Rifaux contributes an article on
" The Origin of Life and the Creation of Living Beings."
An historical account of this scientific movement is given.
All experiments have, up to the present, proved failures,
but that is no reason why we should conclude that the
problem will remain unsolved. In the vast domain of
hypotheses all hopes are legitimate, and there is no
metaphysical impossibility that one day scientists will be
making life in their laboratories. But what about God ?
There are some who see in Creation of life one of the
strongest proofs for the existence of the Supreme Being.
Dr. Rifaux says that we must bear in mind that the ex-
istence of God is not as absolutely demonstrable as a
theorem in geometry. The voice of conscience, the
wants of our moral nature, demand that we recognize
the existence of God. Those who are of this frame of
mind have no reason to fear the acquisitions of science,
but on the contrary they will find in all scientific progress
new and greater reasons to praise that Being who is the
spirit of all life and truth.
(16 July): In his concluding article on the history of
UAvenir^ Charles Boutard discusses the doctrines set
forth by Lamennais. The doctrines are all summed up
under the head of " Liberal Catholicism." In the
second instalment of the Essay on the Psychology of the
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858 Foreign Periodicals [Sept,
Hand, N. Vaschide maintains that the hand can furnish
psychological indications on the past, present, and future.
Louis Chabaud chooses as the subject of his portrait
in this number, Mme. Tallien. Her connection with the
Terror, with the Directory, with the Empire, and the
Restoration, makes her an interesting figure in French
history. It is mainly for this reason that the writer
chooses her. The ** Origin and Development of the
Idea of Sacred Scripture in Vedism and Mahometism,"
is the title of an article by A. Bros. The first idea was
that of a soul. As this could not explain all, man was
forced to the idea of a being inspiring his actions, and
it was not a hard task to make this being divine. As
this divine being inspired the individual he was soon
conceived as inspiring his writings, his books. But these
could not be considered a religious institution unless there
intervened a social force, hierarchic and powerful enough
to cause a unity of thought. So the divinely inspired
writings became the expression of a religious unity. As
such they express the religious life of certain periods.
As social life and religious life developed, so did the
life of thought; hence, also, did the expression of that
thought, the Scriptures. And we can easily find this in
the history of the Veda and the Koran.
Studi Religiosi (May- June): P. Palmieri, O.S.A., contributes an
interesting account of the life, works, vicissitudes, and
death of Hermann Schell. Professor Schell was one of
*« the profoundest and most original thinkers that theology
ical science produced during the nineteenth century.
His works bear the stamp of a mind extraordinarily en-
dowed with speculative power, and no less remarkable
for fearless love of truth. Love of truth was, in fact, a
passion with Schell. Opportunism was a word that dis-
gusted him. Hence his trouble with the Congregation
of the Index, to whose decision, however, condemning
several of his books, he instantly submitted. What may
be regarded as the distinctive features of Dr. Schell's
work are: first, his tendency to question the eternal
suffering of all souls dying without sanctifying grace;
and secondly, his daring criticism of what he called
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I9C6.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 859
Catholic retrogression and obscurantism. In the midst of
all his labors and overwhelming troubles Dr. Schell care-
fully cultivated the interior life and the spirit of prayer.
The veneration for him cherished by all who knew him
amounted, says P. Palmieri, almost to worship. P.
Br^mond writes with his usual insight an interesting
essay on the religious philosophy of Newman. M.
Federici has an exhaustive study on the commerce and
industry of the ancient Hebrews. r-Padre Minocchi
continues his critical Italian translation of Isaias.
And L. Franceschi appeals to moral theologians to
take some account of the discoveries of medical science.
A review is given of fifteen pastoral letters re-
cently issued by various Italian bishops, the burden
of which is an attack upon modernism in study and re-
search. These bishops deplore the extent to which
Catholics are cultivating modern methods, and advise
their seminaries to exclude the works of Minocchi, Sa-
meria, Murri, Ghigani, Buonainti, and Bonaccarsi. The
Studi Religiosi also is excluded. P. Minocchi indignant**
ly protests against the injustice done him, points to the
fact that all his works have had the highest ecclesi-
astical authorization, and implies that if we do not oc-
cupy ourselves with modern studies, it will be so much
the worse for us.
Revue (THistoire et de Littirature Religteuses (May- June): An-
toine Dupin investigates the origins of the Trinitarian
controversy in the early Church. The elements of the
Trinitarian dogma existed before Christian theology. In
the Old Testament we find frequent mention of the
" Spirit of Yahweh," meaning God's power, especially
as manifested in mighty men like Samson, or in illu-
minated seers like the prophets. The idea of the Son,
too, readily arose out of the idea that all men would be
Sons of God in the Messianic era, and, in a pre-emi-
nent sense, Messias himself would be Ftlius Dei. How-
ever, it took some time before the threefold hypostasis
stood distinct in the Christian Consciousness. Baptism
was given only in nomine Jesu^ up to 80 A. D. at least,
and we may learn from the Didache that the threefold
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86o FOREIGN Periodicals [Sept.,
formula was used in the Eucharistic celebration only
after lOO. M. Zeller writes on a little known Dalma-
tian, St Dominus of Salone. L. Saint Paul discusses
the date of an early Christian epitaph.-^— Among the
book reviews is a favorable notice of Dr. Healy's Va^
lerian Persecution.
La Civilta Cattolica (7 July) : An author in the Civilta Cattolica
treats of the possibility of an evolution or development
of the Catholic Church from a highly abstract point of
view. Confining himself to the intrinsic development of
the Church, he maintains that development would mean
a change in its very essence; that is, (i) in the moral
of the Gospels ; (2) dogma ; (3) the hierarchy ; or (4)
the sacraments. But there can be no essential improve-
ment on the love of God and our neighbor. And this
is a summary of the moral teaching of the Church.
Dogma means that the Church teaches, and she has
no right to add to, or detract from, the deposit of
faith left when the last Apostle was dead. The hier-
archy embraces the ministers to whom the government
of the Church is assigned, and is a fact of which
Jesus was the author, and will remain as Jesus wished
that it should. The sacraments are the effective instru-
ments of individual perfection, the means by which the
end of Christ's kingdom is attained. Another writer
presents an apologetic study of St. Luke, continuing the
article, " I Nostri Quattro Evangelii." Dr. Boissarie
writes of the favorable attitude of Rome to the grotto
of Lourdes.
(2 1 July) : A writer advocates the founding of houses
for Catholic students at the various Italian Universities,
quoting a letter of Pius X. approving of a kind of Cath-
olic dormitory and club already started at Padua.
Another writer treats of the anti- clerical prejudice in
Italy. Father H. Grisar, S.J., continues his study of
the relics in the Sancta Sanctorum in Rome. The
criticism of Herbert Spencer and the study of St. Luke
are also continued.
La Rassegna Nazionale (i July): Berta Felice continues the
study of Alfonsina Orsini under the title of " Femmin-
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I906.] FOREIGN PERIODICALS 86 1
ismo Estetico." Piero Misciatelli writes of woman in
art. An anonymous person publishes some letters of
the Dominican, Alberto Guglielmotti. Raflfaele Fog-
lietti recounts how the Congregation of the Index con-
demned a work of Guglielmo Andisio, thinking a quo-
tation he critcized was the expression of his own opinion.
(2 July) : Apropos of the third centenary of Rembrandt's
birth, Mario Foresi presents a study of his character
and work. E. Foresi treats of German Protestantism
from Luther to Harnack. L. Oberziner makes the
charge that there are many Rosminian ideas in Fogaz-
zaro's // SaniOf and quotes passages to support his con-
tention.
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THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION.
FLORENCE B. LOW, in the Nineteenth Century and After, dwells upon
the responsibility of schools and teachers for the reading of the modern
girl. The following shows the line of argument adopted :
It is curious to compare the taste of the modern girl with that of the
girl of twenty years ago; fashion in reading has changed as greatly as fashion
in dress, and it must be confessed for the worse. Those of us who were at
school a couple of decades ago in England, were revelling in our Dickens and
in our Scott in a manner that strikes our pupils of to-day as curious and
odd. Mrs. Oliphant's stories, with their homely charm and real insight into
human life, seem to have passed into the limbo of forgotten things Such
books are too uneventful, too seriously written, too earnest for the genera-
tion that feeds on scraps and snippets. Charles Kingslcy, the most popular
novelist of the '70's and '8o's probably, is neglected, while Mrs. Ewing, a
writer of real genius, is scarcely more than a name. We who read The Story
of a Short Life, Jackanapes, A Flat Iron for a Farthing, when we were in our
teens, regret that our successors should be shut out from such a great inheri-
tance.
An authoress dearly loved in our youth appears but twice in a recent list.
Louisa Alcott, a few years ago, numbered a very large circle of readers on
both sides of the Atlantic. Equally inexplicable is the negkct of Mrs. Gas-
kell. Miss Thackeray, Miss Yonge, and Miss Mulock. The modern school-
girl is not reading a vicious literature ; her taste is healthy, and for that let
us be thankful in an age that produces much that is corrupt and unedifving.
Nevertheless, it were folly to disguise the fact that the reading of inferior
novels, this filling the mind with scraps and tags of information, is haimful
in the highest degree. If she does not read the great novels in her youth
she is never likely to do so. Why is it that rubbishy novels have such an
enormous circulation to-day, and that these same novels aie published in
their hundreds and thousands ? Is it not largely due to the fact that the
middle class, who form the bulk of novel readers, have no standard of taste ?
Having never read a good novel, they do not recognize a bad one when they
see it.
If the lists which I have examined are a true index of the reading of the
modern girl, it would be interesting to discover what the causes are that have
brought about this changed taste in reading — a change, let it be emphasized
once more, not towards the vicious, but towards a lower level of literary art,
the standard novels being neglected in favor of stories by tenth-rate writers,
and magazines of all kinds. Is it a natural evolution, and if so, no more ta
be stemmed than the current of a river that has worked its way into a new
channel? . . .
How is English literature taught in our girls' schools to-day? In the
upper forms — girls from fifteen to eighteen years of age^-certain prescribed
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i9o6.] The Columbian Reading Union 863
books are studied, and, in order to pass the examinations at the end of a year,
these books must be studied more minutely by the help of notes, which are
often more adapted to real scholars than to young students. Ask a girl of
sixteen or so what literature she is studying in school and she will most likely
reply: "We are ' getting up' 'Henry the Fifth/ or 'The Merchant of Ven-
ice.'" Proceed to examine her in the nature of " getting up " a book, and you
will find it principally consists in learning notes by heart. These notes deal
with difficult points in philology, comparisons between the various editions of
the play, and the different readings — all matters of interest to the ripe scholar,
but surely not required by the " young person," who has probably read noth-
ing more than one or two plays of Shakespeare. During the last three or
four years examiners have dealt more with characters, with the result that
editors of the latest text-books present their readers with ready-made sketches
of the chief people in the plays, which the girls, with their terrible facility for
"getting up" anything, learned by heart, and reproduced with a wearisome
monotony. Of course, it may be said that a really great teacher may sur-
mount these difficulties and, in spite of cheap criticisms and learned notes,
inspire her pupils with a passionate enthusiasm for a Cordelia, a Rosalind, a
Henry the Fifth. The great teachers are few and far between ; they do, and
have always done, good work, regardless of bad systems. It is the average,
conscientious teacher with whom we are concerned, who loves her play or her
poem, and desires her pupils to love them likewise. She would like to spend
time over the beauties of character and of language ; she would like her pupils
to do original work; and often she urges them not to read the character
sketches which serve as a preface until they have formed their estimates.
She would like to disregard the notes. But how can she ? She is, indeed,
placed between Scylla and Charybdis. Omission of the notes will mean fail-
ure in examination, and that is a serious matter ; study of them will mean
distaste of a fine piece of literature, perhaps, and that is even more serious.
Only those who have actually taught literature know how impossible it is to
teach it in the way it ought to be taught when there is an examination loom-
ing in the near future. The teacher is obliged to lay stress on the unimport-
ant and the unnecessary, and to pass quickly over the aesthetic and moral side
of literature, which should make it such a valuable subject of study for young
and impressionable girls. Literature is, of all subjects, least adapted to ex-
amination, for here the facts are nothing and the spirit and feeling every-
thing, and one can, after all, only examine people on facts and deductions
from facts, not on those things which appeal primarily to the emotional and
imaginative side of the mind. There is no lack of interest in literature
among girls, and there are plenty of enthusiastic teachers in our schools who
would rejoice to see the present system of examinations done away with ; or,
if examinations must form a part of modern education, they believe that a
kind might be devised less dependent on "cram," and more conducive to the
acquisition of a knowledge and understanding of great works of poetry and
prose suitable to the immature minds of young people.
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BOOKS RECEIVED.
Bbnziges Brothers. New York. Cincinnati, Chicago:
Modtm Pilgrim's Prognss, Widi an Introduction by H. S. Bowden, of the Oratory.
Pp. xvi.-SC^. Price ^i.6o net. Lectures Controversial and Devotional. By Father Mal-
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SEPTEMBER 1906
TetE
atholie i^vld
Hon-CathoUe Work in Tranoifcan Studies
HarciMUs
liiza of the Alley
The Religious SituiUion in France
The Shadow Portrait
Bichard the Third
Philip, Duke of Wharton
The Expectation of the Gonvert
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Contains two hundred and thirty-eight
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at Benediction.
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THE
Catholic University Bulletin.
APRIh, 1906.
CONTENTS.
I. The New Philosophy in France. George M. Sauvage.
II. The School of Nisibis. Francis X. £. Albert.
III. History and Inspiration. Henry A. Pools.
IV. The Catholic Encyclopedia. Edward A. Pace.
V. The Baltimore Cathedral Centenary. Edward A. Pace.
VI. Book Reviews.
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Foreign Countries, $2.25.
Address all Communications to Treasurer,
Catholic University Bulletin, Washington, D. C.
A PERPETUAL
Ecclesiastical Calendar
SHOWING THE
Principal Feasts of tlie Cliristian Year,
Prom A. D. i to A. D. 5,000,
With Rules for Unlimited Extension.
BY FATHER WOODMAN.
Price, 2S cts., postpaid.
The Columbus Press, 120 West 60th St., New York.
* As a scientist Father Woodman has prepared this perpetual ecclesiastical calendar.
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The Columbus J^ess is a Missionary Institution, organized and con-
trolled by the Panlitt Fathers, for the dissemination of Catholic literatore. Its
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the Apostolate of the Press by the sale of printed truth and to put the price of
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The Columbus Press publishes the foUoMring valuable
WORKS OF FATHMR HMCKBR.
Church and the Age :
An exposition of the Catholic Church in view of the needs
and aspirations of the present Age. 322 pages ; paper, 25
cents; cloth, ...... $1.00
Aspirations of Nature.
360 pages, paper, ------ .20
Questions of the Soul.
294 pages, paper, ------ .20
A Brief History of Religion
from the Creation of the World to the Present Time; to
which is added an Historical Sketch of the Catholic Church
in the United States. 46 pages, paper, . - . .XO
DEVOTIONAL PAMPHLETS.
PRINTED IN HANDY SIZE.
By* Rev. Joseph McSorley, C.S.P.
No. I. Devotion to the Holy Spirit. Pp. 32.
No. 2. Soul Blindness. Pp. 24.
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COLLEGES AND ACADEMIES
MANHATTAN COLLEGE;
Cbriatian Brothers,
Boarding and Day Scholars.
Broadway and 131st St., New York.
COURSES LBADINO TO B. A. Ss B. S.
JSnglneering,
Modern LMnguugea, General Science,
Pedagogieut and Comw^rciai Couraea;
tJao a Preparatory J>epmtimenU
Reopens Sept. ic«
BROTHER EDWARD, President.
St. Joseph's Academy,
EMMITTSBURG, MD.
Boarding School for Yourg ladies. Under
direction of Sisters of Charity. Beautifully
situated ia finest section of Weitem' Maryland.
Grounds and buildings extensive aod attractive.
Courses: Classical, Commercial.
Painting, Music, Languages. Thorough
course in each.
For full particulars, address
MOTHER SUPERIOR.
HOLY CROSS COLLEGE,
Worcester, Mass.
Conducted by the Jesuit Fathers.
Situated magnificently and healthfully on a
hill in the southern section of the citv of Wor-
cester, overlooking the whole city, thoroughly
modem in equipment, with large, well-venti-
lated class and lecture halls, students' rooms
and dormitories, first-class gymnasium, baths,
large new athletic field, delightful walks, etc.,
HOLY CROSS offers to the student condi-
tions and facilities designed to keep him in con-
dition for the hardest kind of mental work and
study and a course of studies improved and per-
fected by over three hundred years of teaching
experience, which will give him
A Broad, Libera], Clai ileal EdncatioB.
This course of studies is prescribed, except a
few courses in the Senior year, where election is
permitted. The courses embrace Philosophy,
History, Science, Mathematics, Languages
ancient and modem; Literature ancient and
modem; Oratory, Elocution, and Christian
Doctrine. A course of four years, preparatory
to the above, is also given.
Catalogue containing full information, de-
scription, and history of the College, with pic-
tures of buildings, chapel, gymnasium, new
athletic field, etc., together with entrance re-
quirements and examination papers, will be sent
on application to
REV. THOMAS E. MURPHY, S. J., Pres.
Stella Vise,
ITla Komeiitana aji,
Rome, Italj.
Home School for girls between the
ages of 16 and 21, in one of the pleasant-
est and healthiest parts of Rome.
Under the direction of the Sisters of
Jesus and Mary.
Special facilities for the practice and
study of Modern Languages, Art, and
Music. Weekly visits 10 places of his-
toric or artistic interest.
For particulais apply to
The Directress.
Association of Our Lady of Pity.
Founded to assist and protect the poor
Homeless Boys of Cincinnati, Ohio.
Material aid only 35 cents yearly. The
spiritual benefits are very great. A Sacred
Heart Rosary is given with each membership.
Send in your name and have a share in the
Dailv Mass offered for the members.
Write for information to
The Boys' Home,
596 Sycamore Street, Cincinnati. O.
LOBETTO ACADEMY,
Kansas City, Mo.
Boarding School for Young Women and
Girls.
For Prospectus apply to
Sister Directress.
wanted'.
A French priest will take fbr boaid-
ing and for instruction in the French
lan^age, during vacation period, or the
.entire year, a number of children.
Address : M. L' ABBE BONSIRE,
Care of Catholic World.
St. SIary'8 InsUttttey
St Frticis, Wis. (near Milwaukee).
School Opens Sept. 4, igo6.
Boarding school for Catholic girls with ex-
cellent accommodations for day scholars. '1 he
elementary course for small git Is is also a pie-
paration for the First Holy Communion. The
advance course furnishes to large ^irls an edu-
cation in the higher studies and in the useful
arts, in mu»ic, in bookkeeping, in German, and
in domestic science. In view of the general
desire that provisions be made in a Catholic in-
stitute for a commercial education for girls,
there is here provided a complete business
course. Prices very reasonable.
For further information and catalogue address
VENERABLE MOTHER SUPERIOR.
1175 Superior St , Milwaukee, Wis.
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COLLEGES AND ACADEMIES.
ST. SCHOLASTICA'S CONVENT,
Shoal Crbbk P. O., Looan Co., Ark.
Thii AcademT, conducted by the Benedictine
Sisters, situated in a very healthy place, in the
northwestern part of Arkansas, affords parents
one of the best opportunities to c:ive their
dau^rhters a thorough education.
For further information apply to
Mother Superior.
Academy of Our Lady of Lourdes,
194 Franklut Ave., Clbvelard, Ohio.
Conducted by the Sisters of the Holy Ha-
millty of Mary. Kindergarten, Preparatory,
Academic, and Commercial Departments.
Plain and Fancy Needlework. Private lessons
in the various studies. Preparatory and Ad-
vanced Courses in Vocal and Instrumental
Music, Elocution, Painting in Oil, Water
Colors, China, etc.
URSULINE ACADEMY,
MlDDLETOWN, N. Y.
A Boarding School for Young Ladies.
For terms send for prospectus or apply at
Academy.
ACADEMY OF THE VISITATION
D« Ya May
Frederick, Maryland.
Boarding School for young Ladies (Found-
ed in 1846). For catalogue apply to
Directress.
ST. FRANCIS' COLLEGE,
BROOKLm, N. Y.
For Boarders and Day Scholars, with pow-
ers to confer Degrees.
A good school and terms reasonable.
Apply to President, Brother Jerome,
O.S.F., or send for CaUlogue.
SACRED HEART ACADEMY.
For Young Ladies.— Conducted by the Sis- ,
ters of Mercy.— Bblmomt, Gaston Co., N. C.
rhis institution is pleasantlv situated near
St. Mary's College, is furnished with all mod-
em improvements, steam heating, electricity,
etc., and offers every advantage for education
and health. Apply for catalogue to
Sister Directress.
ST. CATHERINE'S ACADEMY,
Racine, Wisconsin.
This institution affords young ladies every ad-
vantage of a solid and refined education, com-
prising the following departments, vis. : Aca-
deaiic, Normal, Literary, Commercial, Music,
Art. Diplomas will be granted to graduates
of each department. For catalogue and further
particulars 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
all the branches requisite for a solid and re-
fined education.
Catalogue sent on application.
ST. MARY'S ACADEMY,
Nauvoo, III.
Boarding School for Young Ladies.
For catalogue containing information ad-
dress
Mother M. Ottiua Hoevelbr, O.S.B.
VILLANOVA COLLEGE,
Near Philadelphia.
DeUghtfal LoeaUon,
Thorough €fonraea*
Remaonuble Tertnm,
New Buildings containing everv accommo-
dation. A large number of prtoai§ rooms.
Send for a Prospectus.
Rev. L. a. Delurey, O.S.A., Prei.
URSULINE ACADEMY,
Winebiddle Ave., near Penn, Pittsburg, Pa.
Boardinr and Day School conducted by the
Ursuline Nuns.
Complete course of English and French ;
private lessons in music, instrumental and vo-
cal ; French, German, drawing, painting, and
elocution.
For terms apply to the Directress.
NOTRE DAME OF MARYLAND,
Charles Street Ave., Baltimore, Md.
College for Young Women and Prepara-
tory School for Girls. Regular and Elective
Courses. Extensive Grounds. Location un-
surpassed. Suburb of Baltimore. Spacious
Buildings. Completely Equipped. Conduct-
ed by School Sisters op Notre Dame.
SACRED HEART COLLEGE,
Watertown, Wisconsin.
■ranch ef Metre Dame Universitf, indlamL
Thorough Classical, English, Commerrial,
and Preparatory Courses Terms moderate.
Buildings heated by steam. Home comforts.
For further information and catalogues at ply
to Rev. J. O'RouRKE, C.S.C, President.
ST. MARY'S ACADEMY and
Boarding School for Toong Ltdlai.
Burunoton, Vermont.
Complete Educational Facilities. Healthful
Climate in the Pineries. Terms moderate.
Send for Catalogue to
Mother Superior.
Saint Mary's of the Woods
Conducted by the Sisters of Providence from
Ruille^ur-Loir, France. Chartered in 11)46,
and empowered to confer Academic Honors
and Collegiate Degrees. The location is ideal ;
the equipments are elegant and complete;
the facilities for highest intellectual, moral,
and religious culture are unsurpasseo.
For Illustrated Prospectus address Sisters
or Providence, Saint Mary's, Vigo Co., Ind.
PifTSBUKH CATHOLIC COLLEGE
OF THE HOLY 0H08T.
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 Studenu.
Very Rev. M. A. H«mi»^s^j
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COLLEGES AND ACADEMIES.
8T. ANSELM'S COLLEGE,
MA1ICHB8TBR, N. H.
Conducted by the Benedictine Fathen. Com-
plete Classical, Scientific, and Commercial
counes; besides an Elementary School for
bec^inners. Imposing: buildine, extensive
rrounds, and healthy location. Easily reached
From New York, Pennsylvania* and the New
England States. For Catalog^ue, etc., address
Rt. Rbv. Hilary Pfraewqle, O.S.B.
NAZARETH ACADEMY,
CoMCORDiA, Cloud Co., Kajisas.
This boarding-school, for the practical edu-
cation of young: ladies, is under the care of the
Sisters of St. Joseph, and has justly earned the
reputation of bein^ one of the most successful
schools in the West. This institution has always
enjoyed a high reputation for its musical train-
ing. Address Mothbr Superior.
8T. JOSEPH'S ACAIIEMY,
TiTUSVILLB, 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-
man, and Latin. Private lessons in Music,
Stenography, and Typewriting. Kindergarten.
For further particulars apply to
Thb Mother Superior.
DOMINICAN COLLEGE,
San Rafael, Calipornia.
For young ladies. Conducted by the Sisters
of St. Dominic. Full Collegiate course of
study. A Boarding School of highest grade.
Superb modem building, steam heated ; beauti-
ful, commodious class-rooms, Music and Art
rooms. Location the lovely Magnolia Valley,
unsurpassed for beauty and healthf ulness. Ad-
dress Mother Superior.
MOUNT HE CHANTAL,
ACADEMY OF THE VISITATION.
WHBELiifO, West Va.
Founded in 1848.
Under the patronage of Right Rev. P. J.
Donahue, D.D., Bishop op Whiblino.
First-class tuition in all branches. Ideal and
healthful location. Climate desirable for deli-
cate girls.
For prospectus, address The Directress.
ACADEMY OF THE YISITATION,
Dubuque, Iowa.
BMrdlBfl SoliMl fbr Ymb0 LtdlM.
For catalogue apply to
The Directress.
THE ARCADIA COLLEGE.
AeadSMf ef the Urssllne Sisters. Far Ytsnf Ladlas.
Arcadia Valley, Iron Co., Mo.
This is one of the finest educational estab-
lishments in the West. The location is singu-
larly healthy, being situated several hundred
feet above St. Louis. The air is pure and in-
vigorating. Terms for board and tuition very
reasonable. Apply to Mother Superioress.
iCADEMY FOK YOUNe LADIES,
944 Lexington Avenue. New York.
Conducted by the Sisters of St. Dominic.
All the branches of a liberal education Uught.
Special attention given to music, art, and the
languages. An excellent Kindergarten con-
ducted at the Institution. Boys under ten ad-
mitted to Kindergarten and Preparatory De-
partments. For full particulars address
Dominican Sistbri.
ST. VINCENT'S ACADEMY.
Conducted by the Sisters of Charity. Board-
ing and day school for young ladies.
Classical, commercial, and scientific courses
complete. Special attention to Mudc and
Drawing. Pamting, Stenography, and Type-
writing. Terms moderate. For particulars
address Sister Superior,
St. Vincent's Academy, Helena, Mont.
ACADEMY OF THE HOLY NAMES,
. Ross Park, Spokane, Wash.
Boarding and day school for girls. Com-
plete courses — English, art, music, and lan-
guages. Extensive grounds. Spacious build-
ings. Location unsurpassed. For caulogues
address • Sister Superior.
LORETTO HEIGHTS ACADEMY,
Near Denver. Loretto P. O., Colorado.
This magnificent Institution, conducted by
the Sisters of Loretto, offers all the advan-
tages of a superior education. For health and
beauty the location is unsurpassed. Address
Sister Superior, Loretto P. O., Colorado.
ST. JOSEPH'S ACADEMY,
Peralta Park, West Bbrkblbt, Cal.
Select boarding and day school for boys un-
der 14 years of age. For particulars send for
Erospectus, or apply either at St. Mary's Col-
ige, Oakland, Sacred Heart College, San
Francisco, or to
Brother Genebern, Director.
NIAGARA UNIYERSITY,
Near Niagara Falls, N. Y.
Seminary and College of our Lady of Angels.
Chartered by the University of the Sute of N.
V. to confer University Degrees. CIsssical,
Scientific, and Commercial courses. Tetms:
$900 in Seminary ; $a9o in College. Address
Rev. W. F. Liklt, CM., Pres.,
Niagara University P.O., Niagara Co.. N. V.
NOTRE DAME ACADEMY,
Lowell, Mass.
Founded in 185a. This school continues the
careful training and thorough instruction in
every department for which it has hitherto been
so favorably known. For particulars address
The Superior.
ST. LEO COLLEGE,
St. Leo, Pasco Co., Florida.
Preparatory, Commercial, and Classical
Courses.
Rt. Rev. Charles H. More, O S.B.,
President.
NOTRE DAME ACADEMY,
Watbrburt, 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 music are
uught according to the most advanced methods.
Apply to Mother Supbrios.
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COLLEGES AND ACADEMIES.
ST. ANN'S ACADEMY,
Marlboro, Mass.
Fint-cUsf boarding-fchool for jotmeUdles ;
directed by the Sisters of St. Ann. The lo-
cality is one of the most healthy in the United
States. Terms are very moderate, with atten-
tion to all the usetul and ornamental branches.
Complete Classical Course in both Enriish
and French. For further particulars apply to
Sister M. Albxardrimb, Sup.
ACADEMY OUR LADT OF PER-
PETUAL HELP.
Under the care of the Benedictine S^ers.
For particolars apply to
SisTKR Superior,
Albawy^ Oreooii.
ACADEMY OF THE SOCIETY
THE HOLY CHILD JESUS,
St. Leonard's House,
OF
This
daT scholars,
will be received.
Boys under thirteen years of ag:e will be re-
ceived at the Convent. For particulars apply
to Mother Superior.
8T. THERESA'S ACADEMY,
Boise, Idaho.
Boarding and Day School for youn^ ladies
and children.
Conducted by
The Sisters or Holy Cross.
CONTENT Of OUR LADY Of LOURDES,
East Oakland, Caupornia.
Boarding-school for young ladies, conduct-
ed by Sisters of Mercy. The course of studies
embraces all the branches of a thorough Eng-
lish education. Pupils will be received at any
time during the year. For further particulars
apply to the Sister Superior.
ST. XAYIER'S ACADEMY,
Beatty, Pa.
Conducted by Sisters of Mercy. Building
furnished with all modem conveniences. Ex-
tensive lawns. Course thorough. Music,
Drawing, Languages, Phonography, and Tvpe-
writing extra char|es. For catalogue apply to
directress op Academy.
eETHSEMANl COLLEi^E.
Conducted by the Trappist Fathers.
Every care taken to impart a practical, busi-
ness education to young men.
First Session begins September 3; Second Ses-
sion, February i, but students will be reseived
at all times. For particulars, etc , address
Rt. Rev. M. E. Obrecht, O.C.R.,
Gbthsemami Abbey, Trappist P. O.,
Nelsow Com Kt.
PROYIDENCE ACADEMY
For Young Ladies. Conducted by the Sis-
ters of Charitv. Vancouver, Wash.
No distinction is made in the reception of
pupils on account of their religious opinions,
and 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 address
Sister Superior.
BELLS
MoMrisl Ben* • 8p««lalt7.
■ iSfca^ S t W r— <fyC»^ B i W lMi w ,E4.,P.S.A
ST. JOHN'S UNIYERSITT,
College viLLB, MnrH«
Best Catholic College in the Nortb-««st«
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-Prbsidbvt.
MOUNT NOTRE DAME ACADEMY,
Readiro, Ohio.
A boarding-school for girls, conducted by the
Sisters of Notre Dame. Remarkable record,
during forty years, for excellent health and suc-
cessful training in every department of an acade-
mic curriculum. Students prepared for Trinity
College. Apply to The Superior
ACADEMY OF THE SACRED HEABT,
Grand Coteau, La.
lu special object is to train the characters of
pupils and ground them in solid reUgious
principles, sparing no pains to cultivate their
minds and teach them the various accomplish-
ments required by their position in sodety.
Address Sister Suhbrios.
ACADEMY OF THE VISITATION,
Tacoma, Wash.
Boarding and day school for young ladies and
children. Thorough instruction is given in all
the English branches, art, music, elocution^ and
modem languages. The school is thoroughly
equipped with latest scientific apparatus, geo-
logical cabinet, library, and lecture-hall, with a
g(x>d stage, etc For further particulars apply
to Sisters op the Visitation, South i8th
and I Streets, Tacoma, Wash.
VISITATION ACADEMY,
Park Ave. and Centre St., Baltimore, Md.
Directed by Sisters of the VisiUtion. Erab -
lished 1837. Ranks among the best schools of
Baltimore. Academic, Intermediate, Junior,
and Preparatory Departments.
No extra charge for teaching French ane
Latin. Monthly reports of conduct and doss
standing. Sister M. Aoatha Scott, Sup.
ACADEMY,
Conducted by the Sifters of the Holy Child
Jesus at Waseca, Minn. Address
Sister Superior.
ST. CECILIA ACADEMY,
Nashvilxx, Tenn.
A Boarding School for Young Ladies.
Collegiate course of study, sound, logical,
thorough. Music and Art Departments con-
ducted by teachers of great skill and experience.
Object— to give pupils a thorough education
of mind and heart, to help them develop healthy
bodies, womanly characters, and gracious ir an-
ners. Climate genial, invigorating, eminently
helpful to delicate constitutions.
Apply to DqsmiCAR Sisters.
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SCIHMCB OR ROBIABICer
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2. Missing Links. I 4. The Empire of Man. I 6. Ihe Voices of Babel.
eVOLUXIOMARV PHIErOaOPHV AMD COMMOM SBMSli.
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* Evolution.' " 4. Evolution and Thought. 7. Un-natural History.
3. Foundations of Evolution. | 5. Agnosticism. I
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The ** Secret Instructions " of The French Associations Bill : The Gunpowder Plot.
■ its Authors and Objects. '
The Rationalist Propaganda and How it'Must be Met.
Prick One Shilling.
XHB BIEXHOD OP XHEOI^OGIT.
AND OTHER ESSAYS.
The Method of Theology. By Mgr. Mignot, 1 The Temperament of Doubt. By M. D. Petre.
Archbishop of Albi. Devotional Essays. By the same :— Prayer, Mass,
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Hartman Grisar, S.J. The Liberty of the Children of God. By the Abb6
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Modem Science and Ancient Faith. The Decline of Darwinism. By Walter Sweetman.
My Friend the Agnostic. By B. F. C.Costelloe. I Some Thoughts on Progress. Bv \\ . S Lilly.
Faith and Reason. By the Rev. Bernard I The Christian Revolution. By the same.
Vaughan, S.J. \
GATHOUG TRUTH SOOISTT, 69 Soathwark-Bridge Road, London S. ;B., England.
the Jesuits.
THE CHURCH ANDTHEAGE
By Very Rer. J. T. Heeker.
I val. I2M6. Price, Net, SI.
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The Catholic Church Extension Society of the United States
of America,
General Offcesi Lapeer, Michigan.
"THE NATIONAL CATHOLIC CHARITY**
A Charity that Builds Fouadatioas for Every Good Work.
The Society was founded at the Archbis-
hop s residence' In Chicago on the
eighteenth day of October. 1905, to
assist the poor Home Missions.
We Solicit donations to help build Churches,
Schools and Parish Houses and sup-
port Priests In needy places and pio-
neer states, where. If help is not soon
glyen there win bean appalling loss of
faith. ^
We Solicit gifts of Vestments, Challees. and
Church Goods of all kinds, new or
old, to be sent to poor parishes where
^^ they are miich needed.
We Try to locate Catholic prafessioQal and
tradesmen where their chances are
good for a useful and successful Ufe
work.
We n-
lO-
te
By.
le.
Mei to
rd
in
'S.
ae
>r-
A
>r-
•8.
Be
3d
The ►s,
M a a^^oiro a»u\a &«aj <■<«>•■, kvi »j lu All, I'O*
presenting the different divisions of
the country and the different nation-
alities making up the membership of
the Church in America. They alone
have power to appropriate money for
any purpose whatever. Our invest-
ments are in Church property.
Kvery Day come pledges from Priests In
poorer places to say from ten to two
hundred Masses each for the mem-
bers and contributors
Give Charity where it can da the most good.
Send the Bread of-Tmth tathe hongiy.
till we enroll Catholic America under
TWO-CENTS-A-WEEK.
YOU are invited to share in the .merit of this
the "National Catholic Charity" by becoming a mem-
ber or by joining now in our attempt to have every
r Catholic in America pledge Two-Cents-a-Week to the
work of our Home Missions. It is not a great sum,
"Two-Cents-a-Week," yet its power is 'magnificent.
We wonder at the amount of money our separated
brethem raise for their Missions, but it never has
reached the half million mark per annum. How much
do you think WE could devote to Missions were we
ALL enrolled under the Two-Cents-a-Week banner?
Listen. If every Catholic FAMILY contributed Two-
Cents*a-Week we could build every year and pay for
over 250 Mission Churches where they are badly need-
ed. We could aid 2000 more with liberal donations.
We could support 1500 Pastors where none are now
found. We could f reelv donate half a million dollars
to the Society for the Fropagajbion of the Faith for
Foreign Missions, another naif million to the Catholic
University, another half million to non-Catholic Mis-
sions and still count our reserve by the thousands.
Think of it!— and all with TWO-CENTS-A-WEEK.
Of course we will not get everyone to g^ve even this
small amount but the grave question is "WILL YOU
DOIT?"and"Will You Try To Get Others Interested?"
With this Two-Cents-a-Week donation the Catholic
Church in America would advance with bounds. The
most effective remedy would be applied to the alarm-
ing leakage. WE WOULD KEEP OUR OWN and
that means, under present social conditions,^ that we
would win America to the religion of Jesiis Christ.
Will you help?
This Society is governed by Bishops, Priests and
Laymen, with e^ual voice in management and control.
It presents the Layman's opportunity.— Will you help?
Place yourself at the head of a Band of fifteen
or more and make your Band a mother to other Bands,
tfa^ flag of MISSION ADVANCEMENT.
Let Us Be Apostles-Each in His Own Way.
Rev.
Francis
C. Kelley,
Pres't Catholli
Church Extension
Sdciety. r«apt»er,
1 would be Klad
the work by subscribing Two'
Cents a Week to the Poor Mis
sions and trying to secure others
to do so. Please send medetalls and
booklet.
Name
sty r«apt»er. Mich/N
uld be glad to assist
Sign the pledge and send it in. By return of mail 20 cards and
booklets will go to you and you can easily secure 19 other persons to
do as you do. You may pay your pledge weekly, monthly or yearly —
BUT PAY fir and QET OTHERS INTO THE CRU-
SADE. "God wills it," was the cry of the Crusaders of
old— Let-our fcry be: "America for the Truth— America
n^¥\^^M^ ^» Dq not delay your pledge; send it now
It is the present blow that counts.
Those who come Now are the Apostles 'of the
Movement for They are Blazing the Way and on
them we Build for Fotore Generations.
Catholic.
-TODAY.
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THE
CATHOLIC WORLD,
MONTHLY MAGAZINE
OF
General Literature and Science.
Vol. LXXXIII. SEPTEMBER, 1906. No. 498.
PUBLISHED BY
THE PAULIST FATHERS.
New York:
THE OFFICE OF THE CATHOLIC WORLD,
120-122 West 6oth Street
Enterid at tht Post Ofiee as Second-Class Hatter.
DEALERS SUPPUBD BY THE AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY.
N. B.— The postage on ** The Cathouc World '* to Great Briuin and Ireland, France,
Belgium, Italj, and Germany is 6 cents.
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CERTAINTY IN RELIGION.
By Rev. HENRY H. WYMAN, Paulist.
'* Especially suited for distribution among non-Catholics." — Ave Maria,
** The author is a clear-eyed and strongly persistent thinker.** — Am, Eccl. Review,
" Certainty in Religion is pronounced by competent authority to be one of the best apolo-
getics that has been published in years.** — Intermountain Catholic,
"An excellent book for the Catholic to put into the hands of his Protestant neighbor.**-^
N, Y. Freeman's Journal,
** This little book is calculated to do much good among non-Catholics.** — IVestem Wdtck-
•• A masterly marshaling of his subject by the author." — S. F, Chronicle.
"An earnest plea, clearly and plainly written, for the Catholic Faith.*' — Irish Monthly, ^}
" The book has a tone of dignity about it not common to such unpretentious volumes.^and
it will appeal most strongly to persons of education." — Am. Cath. Quarterly,
•' In comparatively small compass Father Wyman has given reasons for the faith that is
in him, and they are reasons that should prove convincing to unprejudiced minds. His
method is direct and telling.'* — Liverpool Catholic Times,
"It is destined to do a vast amount of good, if it is made known and judiciously distri-
buted by the priest on tlie mission." — Catholic University Bulletin,
Paper, I O cents per copy. Postage, 3 cents extra.
Cloth, 60 " " " 4 " ••
Remittance Must Always be Sent with Order.
THE COLUMBUS PRESS,
Z20-Z22 West 6otb Street, New York.
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FATHER ELLIOTT'S
LIFE OF CHRIST.
THmTBBNTH EDITION.
PROFU6KLY ILLUSTRATED. 800 pages.
BOUND IN CLOTH.
PRICE, ONE DOLLAR.
THB GOLCrMBUS PRESS,
lao West 6otli Street, NEW YORK.
CLASIFIBD
FOIL
Wtinm JtfllcSf BIahc ManfrCf c:iiarlotte
t4 WNOUtOME. Maf PULVUIZID It DltSOLVEt Iq a Isw WMiM.
fsr Sals fey OrsMrs. aad at IS ■apllafl flip. Nwir Ysrk eity.
The Leader.
A MONTHLY FOR
BOYS AND QtRLS.
, THE LEADER is an entertaining, illustrated publication for boys and girls.
It is the best and cheapest of its kind on the market. The subscription price for
a single copy is one dollar a year. Most reasonable reductions will be made
when it is ordered in quantities. We recommend it to parents and to Pastors as
the most efficacious means by which they can counteract the widespread influence
of irreligious and immoral literature for the young, give their children a healthy
literary taste* and direct them, during their most important years, in an interest-
tug and attractive way in positive Christian teaching.
For all information address: THE LEADER, 120 W. 6oth St., N. Y. City.
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JUST PUBLISHED
A NEW BOOK BY THE AUTHOR OF
"PLAIK FACTS"
How to Becofflea Catholic
Practical Directioxi® on all
Mattere concerning tVie .
Reception of Converts
A Vseliil Manual for Instrttc tors
PRIOe, 10 OENTS Postage, n centB
lOOoopieSy S5.00
I'HE COLVMB1LJ8 PRESS,
120-122 Weil 60th Street/ New York City.
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1993
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'^CA'acedii
3 9015 q2809^72_^;<^|
1993 - $'
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cdllECllOM
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